The humans entered the church in packs. They were not Sylphen. They did not answer to an Alpha. But they knew the concept of safety in numbers. There were theories among his own people about the connection between the humans and the Sylphen. The appearance of the human alphas made it inevitable. Some swore that they came into being spontaneously, an answer to the power of the Alphas spun out of thin air and light. Others said that the portal must have opened before, that some of their own kind must have come through in ancient history and left their genetic mark hidden among the human population. Very few considered the option that the humans had, independently, developed a version of the Sylphen dynamic. It was important to the Sylphen to see themselves as superior.
Warder had never paid the theories much heed. It was one of a few regrets he had allowed himself lately, now that he had taken a human to mate. It did not truly matter to him where Lucy had come from, but it bothered him that he did not fully understand her. After last night, he was reassured that he could help her to be content. Given the opportunity, she had chosen him. It would not be easy, but she would come to understand her role. In time, she might learn that she truly had much more power than she imagined. He would tear down the world to make her keep choosing him. More challenging, he would seek peace with the humans to make her safe.
The humans smelled of fear. It was disquieting for the others in the delegation. It had been a strategic error for Hadren to keep their people so completely separate from the humans. They were unused to their habits and emotions. Now, when it mattered, they struggled to maintain the calm he had ordered. The Sylphen delegation could not afford an outburst.
A soft cough sounded to his left. When it persisted, Warder looked to one side without bothering to turn his head. The mayor was standing there, staring at him so hard that his eyes seemed likely to pop out of his head. The coughing became a pained clearing of the throat. Suppressing a sigh, Warder turned his head.
"Sir," the mayor said, poorly disguised relief in his voice. "May I speak with you?"
Warder inclined his head.
"Uh--well. I wanted to ask. That is, I feel things took a turn yesterday. I am concerned that our negotiations will not progress if your people continue to advance wild fictions."
Warder waited to make any kind of reply until the man broke into a visible sweat. "Fictions?"
"Ah, yes. Well, the stories of the outside. I imagine it is a tactic to keep us here. To make us agree. But it is unpalatable. The very idea that the whole world could be different outside. Filled with creatures--ah, people, like you. It does not encourage the trust that is necessary for our negotiations."
"My people do not lie," said Warder. "I suggest you do what is necessary to encourage your own people to revise their opinion of what is possible."
Things would be easier if he could challenge the man to a swordfight in answer to the charge that he would allow his delegation to dissemble. It was so frustrating to be tied to the gentle customs of humans, respecting their barbed words and slower minds. Was it truly so impossible to imagine that the humans outside had been bested when the island itself had been conquered so easily? Warder noted that Rader was glaring at the mayor with murderous intent. He let loose a low growl to remind him to be calm. The mayor, hearing it, gave a small sort of yelp and retreated to his seat.
"This is not working," said Rader. "We should impose order and soothe any hurt feelings later."
"Our plan is strengthened by their cooperation," said Warder. "Do not condemn them because you cannot practice patience."
"Sir, I would also like to register my concern," said Pryor. Warder had invited him to join the delegation because he was not afraid to speak his opinion and Warder valued his counsel. But at this moment, it was not welcome.
"We have some time yet," said Warder. "If the situation with Ysabel changes, we will shift tactics accordingly. Until then, if anyone steps out of line, they will find themself subject to an Alpha's justice."
A chorus of, "yes, sir" and "yes, Alpha," answered the threat. The latter term was used as a form of address only to the reigning Alpha. Warder wished that it felt strange, but the recognition he had rejected for so long felt almost as welcome as his mate. Of course, it had never been the leadership he had rejected. It had been the ways in which his father wished to twist him into a caricature of his own image.
The clock above the church struck the hour. Most of the islanders were prompt. If nothing else, Cenia's revelation yesterday had piqued their interest. Now, the task was to encourage them to believe it.
Warder watched the doorway, waiting for Lucy to enter. He scanned the crowd already inside, but it would have been difficult for his mate to enter unnoticed. Even if her presence didn't lead to stares and whispers from the islanders, he felt an undeniable charge at her closeness.
The clock stopped chiming. She was late.
Warder silently counted to ten. Then, he nodded to his men near the doors. They had been briefed on the situation and part of their role was to ensure Lucy's safety while Warder was stuck at the front of the building. They ducked outside and returned within moments. A gesture, without meaning to the humans, but clear as day to him. At another nod, one man left to begin a search while the other planted himself at the door, alert for any trouble. Rader slipped out of his seat, ready to receive a report.
"Take your seats, please." This in the chiming voice of Mrs. Monroe, his erstwhile host. Warder clenched his teeth.
The mayor walked to the front of the room once more, carefully avoiding the warriors' gaze. "We should begin by parsing the strange allegations we heard yesterday from
them
," he said.
Warder stood, his chair scraping across the wood floor. The crowd hushed at the sight of him. He had taken care to stoop when he entered the room, to stay seated after to avoid panic. At his full height, in his armor, it was clear he was not exactly human. Given an opportunity, the fragility of humans caused them to overlook that reality. But now he gave them no room to deny his presence.
The mayor turned, well aware that something behind him had stolen focus. His mouth dropped when he saw the towering warrior, but he slowly recovered himself. "Did you--have something to say?"
Rader returned. Shook his head. Warder sniffed the air, scenting again the human fear, but nothing of Lucy. Something fierce rose within him.
The mayor seemed to take courage from Warder's silence. "You ought to sit down and give us the courtesy of listening to our concerns."
Warder roared in displeasure, a roar that wormed its way into the floor and the walls and the very air in the high-ceiling church. A roar that shook the bones of human and Sylphen alike. Then, he stormed down the aisle in search of his mate.
#
How many times had she walked the rocky path to Ioanni's house? Back when the island was normal, it had been one of her favorite places to go because of the solitude. The house was set on a rocky outcropping above the ocean. The land around it was unstable, the coastline eroding slowly from yearly storms. No one else could build and the few houses that had been nearby were abandoned, one storm away from crumbling into the sea. Ioanni's house was sheltered by natural formations that helped stave off the worst of the erosion. The house was three stories tall so that the top often disappeared into the ever-present fog.
Now that the island was cut off from everything outside, the quiet of this little piece of the island felt isolating and frightening. Lucy hadn't realized it until Sheera pointed out that she was always finding excuses not to visit. Then, a few years ago, Sheera had moved into one of the empty summer residences closer to town and Ioanni had been truly alone.
The eccentric man seemed to prefer it. He no longer had to leave his workshop for dinner and there was no one to scold him for spreading his projects throughout every spare inch of the house. When they reached the path to his workshop--an old garage a few yards from the main house--Lucy had to wind her way delicately through ruthlessly organized piles of different kinds of scrap metal.
When Ioanni led her inside the weathered structure, she found herself staring at something that looked like a cross between a kitchen table and a catapult.
"What is it?" asked Lucy.
"Something I'm tinkering with," said Ioanni, looking at the strange contraption as if it might reveal its secrets to him. He noticed a hammer lying halfway off the worktable underneath and nudged it more firmly into place. He seemed not to notice when the effort upset a nearby socket wrench that fell off the table and clattered to the concrete floor, narrowly missing his foot. "Would you like to see it operate?"
"I can't stay long," said Lucy. "I'm supposed to be at the church." She thought of Warder's anger when he realized she was gone. "Can we try to contact the mainland?"
