Chapter 56: Butterfly’s Wings
"To the Vasilievs’ territory?" Cecilia humd in contemplation. After a brief, thoughtful silence, she nodded, the gentle smile from monts before still gracing her lips. "Okay. You won’t be going alone, yes?"
Arkai’s own smile was reassurance itself as he nodded back. "I am going with my n, the ones you saw with
that day by the river. So you don’t have to wo—"
"Hm?" The sound that left Cecilia’s lips was soft. But her eyes transford in an instant. The warmth evaporated, replaced by a cold glare. "No scheming, or I will what?"
"Wait, h-huh?" Arkai stuttered, the smooth assurance knocked clean out of him. He turned instinctively toward his Elder Brother, only to find Oathran’s own gaze widened in mirrored surprise. So the Dragon, too, had been blindsided by this vertical escalation?
Cecilia clicked her tongue. "You march into another Great Clan’s territory with a full contingent of elite warriors just for a cordial ’visit’? Tell
what is going on, or I will make a second breakfast out of your balls."
Arkai’s soul vacated its premises. His stature, the stoic, handso, intimidating vessel of a century-old Black Wolf King stilled like stone. But the life in his eyes flickered and died. How... how did he end up with a scary Luna?
Oathran, for his part, also sat frozen in his chair, eyes dead. It was trauma over his usually imperious features.
Not just them, the trio managed to inflict a secondary trauma upon every other soul in the hall whose ears were tuned to their corner. This included Piotr.
Who else in all the realms, he thought, could threaten the Black Wolf King and in the process scare the living shit out of a Dragon of unknowable age?
More importantly, who could deduce a hidden crisis from less than two casual, reassuring sentences?
Well, yes, everyone knew Anton Vasiliev had been ill. And Vasiliev’s clumsy power grab in competition with the Arctic Wolves days ago suggested deeper troubles. But to connect those dots in a single breath...?
"What did the other ssengers tell you, Your Majesty?" Cecilia’s glare returned to Arkai. Even Rinne, sitting innocently beside his father, had his jaw hitting the tablecloth, stunned by the insane, split-second dots-connecting unfolding before him.
"Ahem." Arkai collected the tattered remains of his dignity, deciding solemn answers was due. "For the record, I decided to bring my n not because the journey would be personally dangerous for . It’s rely a precautio—"
"Of course," Cecilia cut in, her voice now soft and patient. "I know you’re not worried about yourself, my Lord. You’re bringing your n because you might need to save and protect people. That’s why I asked."
She leaned forward slightly. "So, are you currently trying to deflect by underplaying the situation, or are you telling
it’s ’just to be safe’?"
The woman shook her head. "My Lord. Take off your pants."
"Sai—Cece..." Arkai’s wolf ears, those proud markers of his lineage, deflated completely. His tail sought desperate sanctuary, tucking itself tightly beneath the bench of the long table.
Oathran found his voice, a strained attempt at diation. "My Lady, I believe Arkai rely wished to avoid disclosing sensitive matters in such an open setti—"
"And leave this place potentially attacked too? What, do these people not deserve to know if danger is circling? He is bringing the sa people he brought for investigating the series of assassination at the south," Cecilia’s glare swiveled to pin Oathran...
...before returning with doubled force to Arkai, "Or is it because your ’Elder Brother’ is here with
that you’ve grown complacent?"
"There’s an attack?" Piotr shot to his feet. "The Vasilievs are under attack, m-my Lady?"
"Of course you don’t know. You won’t be sitting here so calmly if you do," Cecilia turned her gaze on Piotr, and the lean tiger ssenger cowered under the weight of it, shock, concern, and sheer awe in his eyes. "It happened after you left?"
"There is an attack, Cece," Arkai confird, his voice steadying. He held up a hand to calm the agitated Piotr and everyone else. "But not at the Vasiliev territory."
While confusion rippled through the others at the hall, Cecilia sat there, calmly thinking. Her guess had been right. There was violence in the wind.
But before chaos could fully erupt, Arkai continued. "Just now, the Werelion ssengers from the Edengold Pride paid a visit. They delivered hidden intelligence." He paused. "There was an attack on the Arctic Werewolves’ territory last night."
He t Cecilia’s gaze, his own now clear and serious.
"And the Delanivis clan is accusing the Vasilievs of being the culprits."
Ah. This was sothing she hadn’t predicted at all.
***
Ruby found nothing.
After hours of scouring the dead woman’s latest predictions, ticulous records of geological shifts, trade route vulnerabilities, petty noble feuds, she found no whisper of this.
No, it wasn’t because she might not be able to read the archive and connect the dots like that woman do. There was genuinely no hint of the attack, no shadow of the perpetrator.
Nothing.
She decided to go north herself, prophecy or no prophecy. Despite the others’ deterrence, despite Nikolas’s firm prohibition. She had her excuses, polished and ready.
She could tell Nikolas she wished to personally apologize to the Black Wolf King. Well, after her... inaccurate vision of his heroic death. And to offer her sympathies for the Mount Saede tragedy, of course.
Not to ntion... if the one who had struck the Arctic Wolves was the Black Wolf King himself, retaliating for their attempted power grab... of course, she needed to see that chaos firsthand. To understand the new shape of the board.
But that theory felt wrong. Arkai Dawnoro wasn’t that petty. His people were just erging from the ash and grief of a volcanic nightmare. And the Arctic Wolves, however opportunistically, had sent ’aid’.
Facing down the potential, full-throated rampage of the Black Wolf alpha alone, any rational leader would know the Delanivis weren’t worth the bloodshed. Not now.
So... who?
The Arctic Wolves had no glaring, public enemies. Well... none except the obvious. If Arkai had died at Mount Saede, the vacuum would have sparked a vicious territorial scramble with the Vasilievs. But Arkai was alive. The primary fuse had been doused.
"Ruby... you’re here..."
The voice broke her reverie the mont her slipper touched the frozen ground of the northern outpost. Nikolas caught her in a fierce embrace, his scent of pine and cold sweat enveloping her. "Didn’t I tell you to stay in the south? Why did you follow?"
She molded herself against him. "I need to know what happened, Nikolas..." Her fingers clutched the fabric of his cloak, tight and needy. "I couldn’t sleep... I just had to co."
Nikolas’s heart twisted. Of course. Of course she would be sick with worry. And he couldn’t tell her the full truth. He couldn’t whisper that his father, the great Dorian Delanivis, lay in a magically-induced coma in a shielded chamber, struck down in his own study.
To admit that would be to paint a target on their backs the size of the continent. So he had sent no updates, left her in the dark to keep her, and their standing, safe.
"Who could have done such a thing...?" Ruby’s voice was a fragile whisper against his chest. Her eyes, luminous with unshed tears, tilted up to et his. "It’s... it’s awful. C-could it be... the Dawnoro? After... after what my prophecy almost caused? I-it’s my fault, isn’t it?"
A single, perfect tear traced a path down her cheek.
"No, Ruby. No, my love, it’s not you." Nikolas said. How could he burden her further? How could he tell her the worse news?
"It’s... we don’t believe it was the Dawnoro." He held her face, his thumb brushing away the tear. His jaw tightened. "The thod, the scent traces... the sightings..."
How could he tell her it was her true love’s people, the Vasilievs?
"We believe it was a weretiger."
No.
Of course he could.
This way, Ruby would beco his alone.
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