THE NEXT DECISION

Elaris’s POV

The first night with Averic in the house does not end the way another woman might have expected.

Neryss chooses the watch shift before either of us can argue.

Averic takes the first rotation without question.

I stay on the main cot and listen to the shifting sounds in the room. Occasionally I hear the soft pad of his feet against the floorboards.

He does not come inside unless he means to stay.

He does not ask if I've changed my mind.

He watches over me.

The child moves in steady pulses against my ribs.

For the first time in several nights I sleep without waking each hour to check the door.

Nothing between us was mended in the night.

But something feels easier, as if we've stopped pretending at solutions.

Morning brings a message.

Neryss finds it along the road, tucked into a space where a patrol might leave something behind without coming into the house.

There is no seal, no mark of sender

only a few lines of script.

The council will name an interim Alpha within three days.

Caedmon's name is spoken most often.

I read the message twice.

Three days.

The number feels too short.

Neryss crosses her arms.

"They're moving quickly."

"They have to," Averic says.

I study him. He does not sound surprised at the news.

There is no accusation in the message, no threat.

That makes it more frightening.

It means no one is coming to threaten us, to warn us.

It means the decision has already been made.

Averic takes the paper and re-reads it.

"Once he has power, however little, everything changes."

"How?"

"Access."

He sets the message down on the table.

"As it stands, this house is inconvenient to the council.

You were exiled but still inside their territory. No one wants to expend resources on you."

"And Caedmon would?"

"If he comes into the position it means he has to decide what is a problem and what isn't."

I understand.

A woman is nothing to men if she has no power and occupies their space.

But a pregnant woman related to an Alpha is something else entirely to the man who controls the territory.

Averic goes on.

"He won't have to come after you openly.

He could alter patrols, revoke access, question your status, or declare this house unsafe."

Neryss's expression tightens.

"And if the child factors into that?"

Averic turns to me.

"That's what worries me."

I walk to the window.

The house feels less like sanctuary and more like prison.

It is isolated.

It is vulnerable to attack by anyone with numbers.

It has no standing within the palace hierarchy.

I pressed my palm against the glass.

"I thought leaving the palace would give us distance from all this."

"It did."

"For a time."

"Yes."

I turn back to him.

"And now?"

"Now the people making those decisions are changing."

That is the part I cannot fight.

I've fought to be free of other people's demands for months.

But independence is not the same thing as defenseless, and I will not confuse the two - especially not now, not with my child.

We consider the options without pretending there are many.

Leaving the territory is one possibility.

I reject it almost at once.

"If I leave, the child won't have any protection under pack law."

Averic nods.

"And if we stay, but refuse to change anything?"

"Caedmon will eventually be able to dictate who can and can't enter this house,"

Neryss points out.

"There's always the possibility of taking you somewhere far from the capital,"

I shake my head.

"That only postpones the problem."

Averic says nothing for a long moment.

I turn to face him.

"There has to be another way."

"There is,"

he says, and the way he says it tells me he has already considered it and decided it is not enough.

I wait while he measures the next words.

The middle ground is always an option, but it usually requires concessions from both sides that neither is willing to name.

Averic swallows and finally says what he means.

"The mark."

The word hangs between us, charged with meaning.

I do not respond.

He goes on.

"Not in the way you think.

Not as a claim or restoration of Alpha status, but the bond itself."

I know what he means.

A completed mate mark is older than anything the current council has voted into existence.

Older than titles.

Older than laws.

Even without the Alpha position, a completed bond would offer protection the council cannot ignore.

Averic studies me.

"It would place you and the child under the oldest protection our pack law allows."

I cross my arms.

"And what would it do for you?"

"Nothing you aren't already willing to give me."

The answer is not what he expects.

"The mark won't restore your title or make you obligated to return to the palace.

It won't give me the right to dictate your choices."

His voice does not waver.

"It would only make the bond official."

I know it is not the whole truth, but he has chosen not to use the mark as a condition of our acceptance.

That is a concession I am willing to consider.

I examine the word as he expects me to.

Mark.

Final.

There are terms I can negotiate: a house, a perimeter, a title, place within the pack hierarchy.

A bond is none of those things.

It is a permanent arrangement between two people that cannot be annulled at the request of one party.

It would bind our wolves together, our scents, our lives.

It would inform the pack that despite whatever interference has taken place, the bond still exists and the mate still chooses to remain with the Alpha.

That is the part that frightens me most.

I stare at my hands.

"I couldn't survive being trapped in another bond."

"You wouldn't have to be,"

Averic replies.

"How can you be sure?"

"Because if you ever tell me to stop, I will."

I look up.

He does not move.

"I'm not asking for this because I want you to own me."

His gaze drifts to my stomach.

"I'm asking because I don't want the council deciding where you and my child belong because I cease to be an option."

The argument is sound, but permanence is another matter entirely.

That belongs to me.

I spend the morning in solitude.

Neryss leaves me to my thoughts without pressing.

Averic takes the afternoon watch.

I lie on the cot with both hands over my stomach.

The child moves often, strong kicks against my palms.

I think about the decisions already made for me.

Caedmon decided when I was useful to him.

Caedmon decided when I was no longer an asset.

The council decided when I could live outside their reach.

The council decided when I would have to return.

Even Averic, cautious and calculating as he is, has made decisions that affected my life before I had the strength to refuse.

I will not allow this to happen because the people who have decided it are right.

If I accept the mark, it will be on my terms.

Not because Caedmon threatened me.

Not because Averic sacrificed his wolf to protect me.

Not because I am afraid of being alone.

I close my eyes.

The child rolls against my hand.

I murmur, "This one will be mine,"

My decision.

My choice.

No one else's.

When I rise, I know what I intend to say.

Averic is outside, near the fire, speaking to Neryss about the watch rotation.

He turns to look at me when I step outside.

I do not make him wait.

"I will accept the mark."

Neryss goes rigid.

Averic does not move.

I continue before either can attach new meaning to my words.

"Not as forgiveness."

"I understand,"

"not as a return to the palace,"

"I understand,"

"and not as reparation for what passed between us,"

His response is the same.

"I understand."

I take a breath.

"I will accept it because my child needs protection Caedmon can't revoke with a council vote."

Averic nods.

"And because..."

I pause.

The second reason is more difficult.

"...because I've begun choosing you again, carefully and on my own terms."

He does not smile.

He does not step closer.

He accepts the truth of what I say without qualification.

Averic asks the only question that matters.

"When?"

It is not what he expected.

He is not questioning my intentions or what it means for the two of us.

He is not asking if I love him or if I will return to the palace with him.

He is asking when I want the decision to take place.

"Before the council names the interim Alpha,"

His expression hardens.

"That gives us three days."

"Less, if Caedmon moves before the vote,"

"We can prepare,"

I agree.

"The mark has to happen before he has power."

Averic looks toward the road.

"If the council announces him first, he may dispute the timing of the bond or attempt to make it a political statement."

"And I won't give him that leverage,"

I say, stronger than I feel.

The afternoon turns practical.

Neryss prepares what she will need.

Averic talks to the healer about the risks of marking an expectant mother.

The answer is not encouraging, but it is not a denial either.

The ceremony does not have to take place in front of witnesses.

The binding does not require the council's presence to be recognized.

That is a relief.

I do not want an audience, especially not Caedmon.

I do not want the council to decide what to do with me.

I want the decision to be mine and mine alone.

When the preparations are complete Averic returns to the fire.

He looks me up and down.

"You can still change your mind."

I believe him.

That is why I do not.

"I know."

I press my fingers to the spot beneath my collar where his mark will someday be.

"I won't."

The night falls over the outer house.

The last light disappears from the windows.

Neryss completes the watch rotation and retreats to the other room, leaving us alone.

Averic stands near the fire.

I turn to face him.

One hand rests lightly on my stomach.

The other hangs loose at my side.

No words pass between us for several long moments.

The mark will happen within hours.

Once it is completed, there will be no pretending that this is any less than it appears to be.

There will be no more decisions made about me by anyone other than myself.

Averic gazes at me.

"Are you certain?"

I hold his eyes.

"Yes."

The road outside is empty.

but the three-day window is already closing.

By the time the council selects its interim Alpha, Caedmon may expect to find me unprotected, defenseless.

He will be mistaken.

Tomorrow, before the council makes its decision, I will finalize this one.