Chapter 178 – Dinner of Diplomats
Alaric
Everything in Silvercrest must gleam, especially when I intend to kill beneath it.
The great hall burns bright with a hundred candles, silver catching every flame until the air itself looks molten.
I chose the setting carefully. Beauty makes people careless. It also reminds them who owns the light.
Kieran stands at my right hand, stiff as a sword left too long in frost. He smells of foreign snow and guilt. My son returns with wolves at his heel and calls it peace. He should have stayed gone if he meant to keep his dignity and his life.
Ronan Vale sits opposite me, shoulders like walls, eyes like midnight iron. His size would be imposing if I didn’t have the numbers on my side.
He wears weariness well. It’s almost convincing, but I can taste the patience in him, the kind that hides violence.
The omega sits beside him, collared, elegant, pretending not to feel the room’s weight. Pretty, in a raw way. Power waiting to be polished into submission. The mistake most Alphas make is falling in love with what should be property.
I lift my glass. “To reconciliation,” I say. “To the rare day when Silvercrest and Blackthorn share a table.”
Ronan inclines his head with his idea of measured civility. “To peace, then.”
I sip the wine and let silence stretch until it grows uncomfortable. Silence tells me more than speech ever does.
Kieran fidgets. Good. He still remembers what silence means in this room.
“You look well,” I tell him, voice soft. “Almost worthy of the family name.”
He doesn’t answer. He never could bear mockery.
Ronan’s gaze flicks to him, almost protectively. “Your son has displayed nothing but loyalty to his pack,” he says. “I would speak well of him anywhere.”
Loyalty. My laugh is small and sharp. “My son’s loyalty is a wind-vane. He points wherever the strongest storm blows.”
Eli leans forward slightly, eyes bright. “Then perhaps he’s learned to recognize strength.”
The boy’s courage is impressive in the same way a candle is impressive in a hurricane. Brief, brave and doomed.
I smile at him indulgently. “And you are the famous Omega who bled for his Alpha. I expected something more… docile.”
He meets my stare briefly, before shrinking in on himself. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
Ronan’s hand twitches toward him under the table, his protective instinct leaping to life, only to be immediately smothered. Discipline in every motion. I could almost admire it.
I let the moment breathe before changing target.
“Tell me, Alpha Vale, do you always parade your conquests at another man’s hearth? Or is this visit special?”
Ronan doesn’t blink. “He’s not a conquest. He’s my mate.”
Ah, there it is. The claim that tastes like defiance. The possessive note is low and dangerous. I file it away. Love will be the thread that unravels him.
“Mate,” I repeat. “The word still sounds like superstition. Pairing madness, wrapped in poetry. But if it gives your pack cohesion, I won’t begrudge you the illusion.” I raise my glass again. “To shared illusions.”
Eli’s jaw tightens. Ronan drinks without expression. Kieran stares at his plate as if the bread might save him.
I turn the conversation toward comfort, layering flattery like lacquer over poison.
“Silvercrest has always valued cooperation. Useful bloodlines, shared property, alliances that strengthen both sides. Your offer of compromise intrigues me, Alpha Vale. Half the year, you say?”
Ronan nods once. “Peace demands flexibility. Provided Eli would be safe under your roof.”
“And what assurance do I have that he’d return to me when the season changes?”
“You have my word.” He says it flatly, as if his word could hold weight in my hall.
I let the faintest smile touch my mouth. “Blackthorn’s word has kept us safe for many years. Perhaps it will profit me again this time.”
The meal continues, but I barely taste it. The pleasure is in watching them eat what I serve. The pack tries to look comfortable. They fail miserably.
I ask questions with the bluntness of a scalpel.
“How fares your territory after the Redmaw incursions? Are your people still rebuilding? I don’t suppose there was much to be destroyed in the first place.”
“Has Blackthorn solved its problem of population growth? Refusing to breed Omegas is noble, but not sustainable in the long run, I suppose.”
Ronan answers tonelessly. Kieran watches his hands. Eli says nothing, but his anger sits visible in his shoulders.
When I turn to him again, it’s only to say, “You wear courage like cologne, little Omega. I hope it smells as sweet when fear comes for you.”
He smiles with all his teeth and there’s no sign of the shy boy from earlier. My comments must have riled him.
“That’s just my natural scent. Some of us don’t have to use artifice to appear desirable.”
The table goes very still. Mara glances at Ronan like she’s ready to intercept a fight. I can feel the tension rising, exquisite in its intensity. I can’t wait to teach this impudent little brat how to obey his betters.
I break the tense silence with a laugh. “Forgive me. Diplomacy always makes me nostalgic for simpler times.”
Ronan looks at me without blinking. “Times when slaughter solved problems and each caste knew their place?”
“Exactly,” I say, pleased he followed the thought. “There’s honesty in blood and tradition.”
I lean back, hands steepled. The light catches the gemstones in my rings.
“You’ll forgive me if I require time to consider your proposal.”
Ronan’s expression doesn’t shift, but I hear his teeth grind. “As you wish.”
“I insist.” I rise, and the servants rush to clear plates. “Tomorrow evening we’ll dine again, with the court present. It will give everyone a chance to see that peace is possible.”
Everyone at the table understands what that means. Especially Kieran.
I step closer to him, rest a hand on his shoulder, light as a blessing. “You’ve done well, bringing them here. Perhaps there’s hope for you yet.”
His muscles lock beneath my fingers. I feel his heartbeat hammer. I lower my voice. “Do try not to disappoint me tomorrow.”
He nods without breathing and my mood lightens further.
Ronan rises, every inch of him locked down and contained. “My pack thanks you for your hospitality.”
“And I thank you for your honesty.” I gesture toward the servants. “Escort our guests back to their quarters. See that they want for nothing.”
Eli stands last, eyes on the floor in a performance of humility. He’ll beg for my mercy and love before the next full moon.
When they’ve gone, the hall feels larger. I let the mask drop just enough to breathe. My pulse is steady. I was going to sweep them out of my path tonight, but I’m enjoying myself too much.
The plan is simple. Keep them entertained and let them think I’m hesitating, then close the jaws tomorrow.
I look toward the walls, where my mercenaries wait behind hidden panels. “You heard?” I ask.
A murmur of assent answers.
“Good. Tomorrow night, after the toast.” I trace the rim of my glass with one finger, listening to the faint ring. “The moment I raise my glass, you open the walls. Kill the Blackthorn wolves first. Leave the Omega alive and make my son watch the carnage before you dispose of him.”
I smile into the silence, tasting wine that’s gone cold. “It’s polite,” I murmur, “To feed your guests before you bleed them.”