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Chapter Four - Theo

A kull blurs around Theo as he is led to the Elder’s stronghold in the heart of the city.

Dimly, he’s aware of Vittoria at his side and that she’s saying something about Cesscounthe and losses and wins that have taken place since his disappearance – and alleged betrayal. He should be thinking up a story as to why he didn’t immediately return to Akull after Octavian declared Theo a traitor–a story that explains why Theo hasn’t brought his case before the Elders to spread out evidence, to show that the betrayer wasn’t Theo, but Octavian.

If Theo had followed the rules, an official war trial would have been declared. As the accuser, Octavian would have been given the choice to settle things before an anonymous tribune selected by the city, or through Ravage or combat.

But Theo didn’t come forward – just as Octavian would have expected. Theo wasn’t guilty of betraying his people… at least, not in the way Octavian claimed it.

But he is guilty of falling in love with the enemy.

And though that crime is more forgivable, it is the one crime Theo can’t let Octavian prove.

“Understood?” Vittoria says. She holds out her hand.

Theo stares at the calluses lining her fingers that speak to years of hard labor. If the curves of muscle on her shoulders and arms didn’t already betray a life of warfare, her hands certainly do.

What if she had been the one to tell the Elders of Luka during the siege of Cesscounthe, and not Octavian?

Vittoria’s gaze searches him, almost as if she can see his thoughts. When he only stares at her, her lips curl downwards.

“Let’s hope that you are as good as your mentor swears you are, Wolf-Born,” she says.

Theo grits his teeth.

You’re such a fool for thinking the Snake of the South could have handled this, he tells himself.

And now Luka is in danger . Again.

This is why Theo always has to handle matters of war on his own.

He exhales a long breath as he looks up at the stone doors before them. They are carved with ancient images of howling wolves chasing foxes and rabbits from the northern reaches of Kitera. The designs stretch far above him, toward the slanted roof just barely shielding him from the thick snowfall. Inside, the Elders will be waiting. He rolls potential answers around his tongue, testing their sounds, and then, before Vittoria can say an expectant, “ Well?” he pushes the door open.

Inside, the stronghold’s ceiling seems high enough to scrape the clouds. Bone chandeliers drip with candle wax. Torches blaze from pillars carved into the shape of wolves, heads bent back so their snarls press against the wooden beams. The air hangs heavy with tension, like the stretching calm before a scream.

Theo doesn’t have to look at the path beneath his feet. The stones are worn from the tread of generations of Kiterans that have walked before him –the tread from his own feet, a dozen winters prior, when he first entered this hall. Nervous energy hums through him, but he smothers it with a clench of his fist.

At the head of the stronghold sit the Elders. Their chairs fan out above him, placed so they can look down their noses at whomever must stand on the carved dais. The last three months have done little to change them; Gilianna Scholar still frowns, pressing a stray strand of auburn curls behind her ear while her other hand worries the dagger at her hip. Opposite her, Hessifer Soldier strokes a still poorly trimmed white mustache, his gaze calm. Their fellows look equally disapproving.

And there, tucked into the shadows beyond the Elders, is Commander Jennison.

Theo can’t help the tiny sigh of relief that escapes him at the sight of his old commander, even if the man looks oddly haggard, face lined, back bent. Though human, Jennison only wanted the best for Theo. Surely that can’t have changed.

“Theodori Hunter Wolf-Born,” Gilianna says, voice clear as a bell as she steeples her hands. She leans back against the carved wooden throne. Each chair is made specific to the Elder; hers has legs made of books and arms made of swords, with small vines weaving the two together. “We expected you much sooner.”

Theo ducks his head to hide the curl of his lip. Though she doesn’t accuse him outright, the flatness of Gilianna’s voice makes it clear she believes that Theo is guilty.

“I promised not to return home empty handed, Moon-Blessed Elder,” Theo says. Though he starts the sentence looking at Gilianna, he ends it with his eyes on Commander Jennison. The man’s face softens as he looks at Theo, making him look almost… sad?

“Yes,” Hessifer says, toying with the leather slats of his armor. “You did send a spy right into our midst.”

Theo looks at Hessifer sharply. Before he can speak, Gilianna’s hand snaps up.

“Enough,” she says, shooting Hessifer a look. “Theodori, my patience is thin. Speak plainly: why did you not immediately return to us? Why did you let others tell your story?”

Theo squares his shoulders. The answer emerges with carefully measured sorrow and anger; too much sadness would make him weak. Too much anger would make him seem vengeful. He says, slowly, carefully: “The siege against Cesscounthe was a success –but only due to the betrayal of my second, Octavian Scholar.”

Brows draw together as the Elders sit straighter.

Theo continues, “Octavian allied himself with a traitorous Siaccian who wished to see her own city fall. Their combined forces were the reason Cesscounthe fell –and the reason why you can’t trust Octavian now. The victory was not claimed in your name –in the name of our people –but in the name of Octavian’s hunger to conquer at any cost.”

Theo pauses. He holds his hands behind his back to hide his shaking fingers. He looks at each Elder, holding their gaze, as he continues, “Octavian Scholar betrayed me –he is not to be trusted. A man’s word is his life. ” Theo quotes as he looks at Commander Jennison.

He continues when the Elders say nothing: “Octavian Scholar planned to kill me to ensure you never heard the truth. I knew I couldn’t come home empty handed, so I went south –and I brought you a potential alliance with my worst enemy instead.”

Theo spreads his hands. “I know I should have come sooner, but like I said: a man’s word is his life. I promised you I wouldn’t return without something to show your trust in me was well placed.”

He halts, tucking his arms behind his back again.

Silence stretches as the Elders stare down at him, expressions unchanged. Theo holds their gaze, refusing to look away. Refusing to fill the empty air with foolish words.

Finally, Gilianna says, “I see.” Her voice is, if possible, even colder than it was before. She looks at Hessifer and the other Elders. “Is there anything else you wish to add?”

Theo looks at Commander Jennison again, but the man’s face is unmoving as a block of ice and as impossible to read.

“No,” Theo says.

“Then we shall compare tales. The truth is here, I’m sure of it.”

Theo stiffens, gritting his teeth. Before he can speak, Gilianna raises a slender, long-fingered hand, gesturing to someone behind Theo.

“Octavian,” she says. “Come forward.”

Theo’s heart stills. The warmth of the stronghold drains from him as he manages to turn, looking over his shoulder as Octavian emerges from the shadow of a pillar carved like a crouched wolf. Two guards trail behind him.

The world slows as Octavian approaches Theo; his hair is longer now, brushing his collarbones in dark waves. His cheeks hollower. The scar Theo gave him catches the light, pale and thin over his right eye. His blue scholar’s robes are dirtied around the hem.

It isn’t until Theo looks into Octavian’s eyes – absent of his wolf, for now, a simple human gray –that anger sinks its fangs into him.

“Octavian,” Theo growls. He becomes aware of a distant pain in his palms –his nails have lengthened to claws. Blood drips to the stone floor. He’s moving forward, toward Octavian – his legs are propelling him toward the target of his rage, this man, this traitor who ruined everything –

“Vittoria.” Gilianna’s voice is far away, but Vittoria is anything but. One moment, Theo’s feet are carrying him across the stone, and the next his nose is meeting the floor as his legs are swept out beneath him.

Theo grunts as he hits the ground. The crunch of his nose rattles his brain. Before he can lift his head, a hand lands on his skull.

“Stay down if you want to live, you absolute imbecile.” Vittoria’s words fan on Theo’s neck in a warm exhale. Theo snarls, still mad with rage, and it is only the telling pain of claws sinking into the back of his spine, the promise that his head will be soon severed from his skull, that stops him.

If I die here, what will happen to Luka?

Somehow, Theo reaches past his beast. His breaths still escape him in half-growls half-pants as he watches Octavian walk to the dais before the Elders. The rat-bastard only spares Theo a glance –and has the nerve to smirk when he does.

Theo’s beast howls for vengeance, but he forces it to silence.

“Octavian Scholar,” Gilianna says, and it comforts a small part of Theo that her voice remains just as cold speaking to Octavian as it was speaking to Theo. “You told us Theodori was failing in his leadership, and that your decisions were a last resort – the only actions that would be capable of salvaging the campaign. You told us,” Gilianna pauses, her eyes narrowing as she finally looks to where Vittoria grinds Theo’s face into the floor, “that Theodori was compromised . That one of the traitor hopiar was Theodori’s mate.”

Roaring fills Theo’s ears. He misses Octavian’s reply. He can only see Octavian’s lips move, the little smirk turning up the right side of his mouth, and make out the words another traitor. It takes one, two, three long breaths for Theo to quiet the rage of his beast. He only prays to the Wolf Mother that Octavian will not speak Luka’s name. If he does… I won’t be able to control myself.

Gilianna’s severe expression lightens somewhat at Octavian’s reply, and Commander Jennison looks at Theo, frowning. Theo curses inwardly, shoving his wolf down deeper. Now isn’t the time for violence.

Not yet.

“And what of the spy?” Gilianna asks.

Spy?

“Ah, of course,” Octavian says, straightening. “Xyla Mobiele. It was fortunate that I identified her upon my arrival. Had you not caught her, Theodori would have prepared himself for this. His lies would have been near impossible to see through. Yes, she was sent by Theodori and his mate to keep tabs on your people –to provide Theodori the information needed before his homecoming.”

“And this Luka Lockehart,” Gilianna says, and Theo’s skin shudders. He’s sure that Vittoria must feel it. “How can he be the man you claim when he has been made the First Consort of the King of Balivartia?”

The only sign of surprise on Octavian’s face is the slightest widening of his eyes, but it’s enough. Theo is certain the Elders see it.

“I’m sure it’s some sort of a plan he and Theodori concocted,” Octavian says smoothly as he folds his hands together. “My sources have confirmed nearly as much. Besides, Theodori has already howled on and on about how he couldn’t return empty handed – we all know what… lengths he will go to.”

The Elders exchange muted looks of disgust and it’s all Theo can do not to bark with laughter at their hypocrisy. Sure, they’ll hold the mates of high-ranking Sevells and Vells hostage here, but the idea of marrying away your mate for strategic advantages was taking things too far.

“And have your spies confirmed that they are officially mated?” Commander Jennison interjects.

“Commander Jennison,” Hessifer says in warning.

Gilianna holds up a hand. “Commander Jennison, we allowed your presence here out of respect, but, as you agreed, your silence is paramount.”

The muscles around Commander Jennison’s jaw flex, but he bows his head.

Gilianna turns her attention to Octavian and says, “Answer his question.”

Octavian smiles. “Yes.”

“Lies!” Theo spits from the ground.

“Vittoria,” Gilianna says, and pain starbursts in the back of Theo’s skull as Vittoria’s claws break skin. He cannot muffle his shout of agony. “Theodori,” Gilianna says. “Octavian remained silent throughout your accusations. You owe him the same respect.”

“Have you seen proof of the bond?” Hessifer asks, leaning forward.

Theo closes his eyes. This has gone so wrong.

And it is all Octavian’s fault.

Luka was supposed to be kept safe. Luka was supposed to be stashed away in fine quarters by now, kept by that damned Cathalan’s side. Theo was supposed to be stifling possessive anger as Cathalan taunted him with the way he could touch Luka when Theo could not.

Theo had been dreading those moments –and now he so desperately wishes that was the version of reality that came to pass.

Instead, Luka is likely in a prison somewhere, and Theo is here, pain filling his head with blinding light while he listens to Octavian say:

“You see the way Theodori reacts when I speak of his mate. Is that not the same rage we’ve all seen when the bond has been newly established? If you doubt me, we can test them.”

“Yes,” Gilianna says, watching Theo. “I believe a test should be an order.” She taps her steepled hands together, considering, before adding, “A test for Luka Lockehart, and an execution for their supposed spy, Xyla Mobiele.”

“And should Luka Lockehart or Theodori show weakness at the Siacchian hopiar ’s death,” Hessifer adds. “We will have our answer as to where their allegiances lie.”

Octavian’s smile grows. “I think that’s a marvelous idea.”