Chapter 11: The Cousin 2
LYSANDER
"Your father told me something last night," I said.
"My father told you many things last night, apparently." His voice stayed smooth. "I heard that the gathering was quite the occasion. My mother is dying, and he was partying."
"I did wonder why you or your mother weren’t there."
"Hmmm." He looked at me after that. "What is your point, Lysander?"
I let it sit. I was not going to hand him the information his father had given me in the middle of a room with uncertain acoustics and the sentinels one corridor away. Whatever was happening here, whatever Johann knew or didn’t know about his own parentage, this was not the conversation for this room.
"My point," I said, "is that an investigation requires more than a convenient suspect."
Johann was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, something had shifted in his register, a degree of warmth dropping out of it.
"You are defending her quite vigorously," he said. "A rogue. A liar. Someone who walked into this estate pretending to be something she wasn’t." He paused. "Have you found a new muse or something?"
I said nothing.
He folded his hands on the desk surface. "I thought you were consumed with that Meadows girl." He waved a hand. "And now the platinum-haired murderer has apparently captured your attention. Should I be concerned about your judgment, cousin? Or just your taste?"
Fia’s face returned to me with the sharpness reserved for things that matter. Her words, her vision, delivered with that calm certainty she wore as armor. She had glimpsed this—not the exact moment, but its outline, its momentum. Who could have guessed the event would surge past my readiness when all I had done was tuck it away for later consideration?
Later had apparently been last night.
I thought about saying it. That she was my mate, and she did not kill his father, and the bond between us was sitting in my chest right now like a second heartbeat. I thought about what that sentence would do to the room, to the investigation, to every argument I was trying to build around her innocence. Johann would take it and fold it into a shape that suited him. He would hand it to the sentinels and the council and anyone else who needed a reason to dismiss everything I said, and she would stay in that room with wolfsbane burning into her wrists, and I would have handed him the tool to keep her there or have her head rolling.
"Your words," I said, "are irrelevant."
Johann raised an eyebrow.
"What is relevant," I continued, "is that your father made arrangements. Specific, witnessed arrangements, spoken in front of people whose names I have, regarding the succession of this seat." I looked at the chair he was sitting in. "Well... the Alpha King’s seat. He was very clear about his intentions. The people in that room heard him clearly."
A chill settled between us, the air thinning as tension swept away any pretense of warmth.
Johann’s hands were still folded on the desk, but the knuckles had changed. A small thing. I noticed it.
"You are attempting to sit in a seat," I said, "that your father explicitly and publicly reassigned last night and in front of witnesses, too." I held his gaze. "It would fascinate you to know your father named an heir."
The silence that followed pressed in, heavy and sharp, a presence with its own boundaries.
The silence lingered.
Johann did not blink.
For the first time since entering the library, the effortless confidence seemed to crack, not visibly enough for most people to notice, but enough for me. His jaw tightened. His fingers pressed together on the desk.
Neither of us looked away.
"Well.. Okay? I am more interested in getting justice for my father’s barbaric murder than inheriting his seat currently. This talk about reassigning, too, who else could it be but me?"
Heavy footsteps crossed the room.
"That is enough."
The voice cut through the tension like a blade.
A royal elder stepped between us before either of us could respond. Age had bent his shoulders slightly, but not his authority. Silver hair framed a face carved by decades of leadership and conflict. Behind him, two more elders stalked closer, their expressions grim.
The elder looked from Johann to me.
Then he sighed.
"By the Moon, I can feel the hostility from where I stand."
Johann leaned back in the library chair he sat in. "I was unaware we required supervision, Elder."
"Clearly you do."
The elder’s sharp gaze settled on him.
"Your father has not even been dead half a day, and already, his son and his favorite nephew are preparing to tear chunks out of each other."
When neither of us answered, he nodded once.
"Good. Since neither of you intends to act with sense, I will do it for you."
He turned his back to the desk and addressed us both.
"The Elder Circle is convening an emergency session immediately."
The words settled heavily in the room.
No surprise there.
The murder of Uncle demanded it.
The elder continued.
"The King’s death, the matter of a temporary regent before succession matters, the prisoner currently being held below this estate, and several other concerns require discussion." His eyes narrowed. "Proper discussion. Not whatever this is."
Johann’s expression darkened slightly. "The succession is not complicated. I am my father’s only son after all."
"No?" The elder asked, sharing a look with the others.
"No."
The elder laughed once. It contained no humor.
"The fact that you believe that is precisely why we are having this meeting."
Johann opened his mouth, which caused the elder to raise a hand.
"No, my Prince."
Those words stopped him. Then the elder looked toward me.
"Alpha Lysander."
I straightened.
"You will attend."
"Of course."
The elder nodded.
The ambiguity of it all was pissing Johann off, and you could tell from his face. He was not going to let it go either. He needed to know. So Johann spoke.
"And why pray tell," he asked calmly, "would my cousin be there?"
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