Chapter 23: The Diplomatic Incident

Cax's POV

The Elder Council representatives had been assigned to me.

Ryker had made this decision at breakfast with the specific calm he used when he was making a decision he knew someone wasn't going to like. He had looked at me across the table and said, "You have the Elders. I have Ryder." Then he had picked up his coffee and looked out the window like the matter was settled, which it was, because that was how Ryker operated.

I had the Elders.

There were three of them. Elder Moss, who was tall and gray-haired and asked careful questions in a slow voice that made you think he was simple until you noticed that every answer you gave him fed directly into his next question. Elder Brant, who was short and watchful and had said perhaps forty words since his arrival, each one placed with surgical precision. And Elder Greta, who was small enough that she came up to my shoulder and had the specific quality of stillness that very dangerous things sometimes had.

I had identified Greta as the primary concern within four minutes of meeting her.

We were in the east sitting room. Tea had been served. I was in the chair across from the three of them, my back straight, my expression pleasant, performing the version of myself that had successfully navigated twelve years of council diplomacy without a single significant incident.

"The Iron-Claw Kingdom has expanded considerably," Elder Moss said, stirring his tea. "Since your father's time."

"We've worked hard at it," I said. "Stable borders, consistent trade relationships. The territory grows when the leadership is unified."

"Unified." Elder Brant repeated the word without any particular inflection. Just put it in the air between us.

"Three Alpha rulers sharing equal authority is unusual," Elder Moss said pleasantly. "Some would call it unstable."

"Some would be wrong." I kept my voice even. "Three perspectives produce better decisions than one. We've held this territory for eleven years without internal conflict. The results speak."

"They do," Greta said.

It was the first thing she had said since we sat down. Her voice was small and dry and completely precise. I looked at her. She was looking at her teacup.

"Elder Greta." I kept my tone warm. "I hope the accommodations are comfortable."

"They're adequate." She set her cup down. "I've stayed in this palace before. Long ago. It smelled different then."

"We've renovated several wings since the original construction."

"Hmm." She looked up at me. Her eyes were very light, almost colorless. "That's not what I mean."

I held her gaze. "What do you mean?"

"The palace smells different." She said it simply, like she was describing the weather. "Something is here that wasn't here before. Something old." She tilted her head very slightly. "Something royal."

The room was quiet except for the fire.

I did not move. Did not blink at the wrong moment. Did not let anything cross my face that hadn't been there half a second before. Eleven years of diplomatic practice and the specific training of an Alpha who had learned young that showing reaction was the same as giving information.

"Old buildings collect interesting histories," I said. "I'd be happy to arrange a tour of the original foundations if that interests you. Our archivist is excellent."

Greta looked at me for a moment longer. Then she picked up her teacup again. "Perhaps."

Elder Moss asked something about trade routes. I answered it. Elder Brant asked a follow up. I answered that too. The conversation moved on and I kept it moving, asking my own questions, redirecting, filling every silence before it could become significant.

Forty minutes later I excused myself with a smile and a promise to return before dinner.

I walked down the corridor at a normal pace. Turned left at the junction. Turned left again at the next one. Opened the door to the small receiving room that was used for nothing in particular and was, importantly, empty.

I went inside and closed the door behind me.

Leaned back against the wall.

Pressed my hands flat against the stone on either side of me and breathed.

Greta knew. Maybe not specifically. Maybe not with certainty. But she had sensed something and she had looked me directly in the eye while she said it, watching for exactly the kind of reaction I had almost given her. An Elder Council member with that level of sensitivity in a palace where Ava's suppression mark was actively failing was the worst possible timing.

We had days. Maybe less.

I needed to talk to Ryker. I needed to talk to Ryker immediately, tonight, and we needed to make a decision about moving Ava's location before Greta walked past the right corridor and stopped being uncertain.

I closed my eyes and worked through the immediate steps. Ryker first. Then Daren about repositioning the guard coverage. Then Ava, who was going to argue, but who needed to understand that the situation had changed from complicated to urgent.

Breathe. Think. Move.

I opened my eyes.

Max was standing in the corner of the room.

He was watching me with a calm, pleasant expression, his hands loose at his sides, his posture relaxed. Like he had been there for some time. Like this was a room he had every right to be in and I was the one who had walked into his space.

I looked at him. Said nothing for a moment.

"Hard day?" Max asked mildly.

The pleasantness in his voice was smooth and even and completely without any acknowledgment that there was anything strange about being found standing silently in an empty room watching an Alpha recover from a conversation.

I pushed off the wall slowly. "Why are you in here, Max."

Not a question. A specific, flat sentence that meant answer me carefully.

He smiled. Warm. Easy. The smile of someone who had practiced it until it felt like a real one.

"Same reason you are," he said. "Thinking about how to protect something precious."