“Run that by me again,” Hugh said, his voice deceptively calm.
What the hell was wrong with him? “Kentucky passed a law banning the formation of packs in its municipalities,” Elara said. “We have a standing agreement with the Atlanta Pack. Any shapeshifter who wants to relocate to Pack territory can come here. We house them and feed them, until the Pack sends an escort to pick them up. They reimburse us for expenses and pay a nice fee on top of it.”
“No,” he said.
“Why not? It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement. Is it because they are shapeshifters? Because you have shapeshifters in your ranks.”
“I don’t have a problem with shapeshifters. I have a problem with that particular Pack. I know Lennart. I know how he operates. We’re not doing this.”
“Curran Lennart is no longer in charge of the Atlanta Pack,” Savannah said.
Hugh looked at her, then turned to Lamar. “You didn’t think to mention it?”
“It didn’t come up,” Lamar said apologetically. “He retired to start a family.”
Hugh stared at him for a second longer, then laughed, a bitter cold sound. “The moron left it all for her. You can’t make this shit up. Who’s in charge now?”
“James Shrapshire,” Lamar said.
Elara had to grab this opening. “See? It’s no longer Lennart’s pack.”
“Is Lennart dead?” Hugh asked.
“No,” Dugas said.
“Then it’s still his Pack.” Hugh leaned forward. “Lennart is a First. His ancestors made a deal for their power with animal gods that roamed the planet when humans ran around in animal skins and hid from lightning in caves. It doesn’t matter who’s in charge of the Pack. When he roars, every shapeshifter will follow him, and we won’t be doing business with him. This matter is closed.”
That was just about enough. “No, it’s not. The Pack is one of our biggest clients. They are churning panacea out, which—“
“I know what the damn panacea does,” he snarled.
“—significantly reduces occurrences of spontaneous loupism in shapeshifter newborns and teenagers,” she kept going. “It doesn’t stay potent for long and they need large quantities of herbs, some of which only grow in the woods here. They pay excellent rates.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should care, because Pack money is feeding and housing your Dogs.”
“Do you not understand me? I won’t work with Lennart. Elara, are you stupid or hard of hearing?”
“I must be stupid, because I married an idiot who stomps around and throws tantrums like a spoiled child! What the hell did this Curran do to you? Killed your master, stole your girl, burned down your castle? What?”
Hugh leaned back, his eyes blazing. Oooh, she touched a nerve. Direct hit.
She turned to Stoyan. “Let me guess, it was the girl.”
“And the castle,” Felix said quietly.
“Is this why you want the moat, Hugh? So Curran won’t burn this castle down?” She knew the moment she said it that she’d pushed him too far.
Hugh leaned back in the chair, a long-suffering look on his face. “You know what your problem is?” he asked, his voice bored.
“Please tell me.”
“You should get laid.”
Elara stared at him.
“It will keep you docile and reasonable. For the sake of all of us, find someone to fuck you, so you can resolve things like an adult, because I’m sick and tired of your hysterics.”
Oh. Oh, wow.
Nobody moved. Nobody even breathed.
“Cute. This agreement predates our marriage,” Elara said into the sudden silence, pronouncing each word clearly. “According to the contract you signed, it is exempt from your input. I don’t need your permission. This exchange will go forward. And you will remember that you are a married adult responsible for the welfare of four thousand people. You’ll reach deep down, find a pair of big-boy pants, and put them on. If I can pretend not to cringe every time you touch me in public, you can pretend to be civil. Bury that hatchet, and if you can’t, hide in your room while they’re here.”
The rage in his eyes was almost too much.
“You signed on the dotted line,” Elara told him. “Are you a man of your word or are you not, Preceptor?”
Hugh rose from his chair, turned, and left. His people filed out behind him.
She slumped against the table. “Well, that went well.”
“We should poison him,” Savannah said.
“Why do you always want to poison people?” Dugas asked her.
“I don’t want to poison people. I want to poison d’Ambray.”
“He’ll come around,” Elara said. “He’s under a lot of pressure, because of that palisade. He’s trying to figure out how to keep us safe from an enemy he doesn’t understand and it’s eating at him.”
All three of them looked at her.
“It’s eating at me too,” she said. “Let’s reinforce our wards.”
“We already did.”
“Let’s do it again.”
Savannah nodded, and she and Dugas left.
Elara turned to Johanna. “Any luck?”
“The warrior is human,” the blond-headed witch signed.
“Are you sure?”
“Ninety percent. I have done everything I can, but the imprint was very weak. But human is the only thing that makes sense.”
It would be so much easier if the armored man was a creature. One could key a ward to bar a creature. One could research and exploit its weaknesses. But a human… That was so much worse. The castle and the town were full of magically powerful humans. She couldn’t ward everyone in.
Elara sighed. The irony of Hugh’s lovely insult was that he was right. She needed to get laid. She could’ve used the release and the comfort.
“Give me some dirt,” she signed.
Johanna put a small test tube into her hand.
“I will go play with it. Maybe I can see something.”
When it came to research, Savannah was better educated than her, and Johanna was more talented. But Elara had to try.
Elara took her test tube and left the room.
Hugh was a stubborn asshole. The problem with stubborn assholes is that once they made up their mind, they followed through, logic and rational thinking be damned. She couldn’t leave it as it was. She had to talk to him about it. If she didn’t, he could snap and attack the Pack delegation tomorrow and ruin a carefully constructed deal that she spent months working on.
Elara conquered the first flight of stairs, when she heard light steps running down. A moment later Stoyan rounded the landing.
He saw her and halted. “Ma’am.”
“Is he upstairs?” she asked.
“No.”
“Where is he?”
Stoyan opened his mouth.
“Stoyan,” she warned. “Where is he?”
“He stepped out.”
“In which direction?”
“He needs… space,” Stoyan said.
What he needed was a solid wallop on his head and a personality transplant.
Johanna emerged from the hallway and waved at them. “Hello.”
Stoyan’s gaze snagged on her for half a second too long. Well. That was interesting.
“Stoyan, where is he going? I’m going to find out anyway. Your Preceptor won’t escape, but you would save me a couple of minutes.”
“He’s going to Radion’s smithy,” Stoyan said.
“Thank you.”
She put the tube into the pocket of her dress and ran down the stairs.
Elara strode out of the gates. The town sat behind Baile castle, hugging the lake shore in a ragged crescent. Radion’s smithy was on the eastern edge of it. A path stretched before her. Hugh had two choices. He could turn right at the fork of the path, circle the castle, and take Sage Street down and east, which would put his course past the shops and houses. Or he could stay straight and walk through the Herbals, a carefully managed stretch of woods hugging the north side of the town and used for the cultivation of herbs.
Where would a violent man in a foul mood go? It was a no-brainer.