The Broken Crown

Allies or Enemies

The auburn alpha stands before me, her hair pulled tightly back in a braid, eyes shimmering in the moonlight as sparks dance around us from the fireplace. Finch stands beside Penelope, the two of them whispering as the instrumental music begins to drown out their voices. Those two seem to be caught up in their own little world, detailing the day to one another as the night passes by.

As I walk around the room, I make my way towards my aunt and uncle, the two of them trying hard to avoid conversation with anyone in this house. Yusuf, Finch, Penelope, and Mathis were invited out of professional courtesy, flying in from their packs to join this moment of mourning which I wish I could have kept to myself. "Would you like another drink?" I ask Aunt Taylor, seeing her glass of wine almost empty.

Declan offers to instead get her a second glass, ushering me away from my solemn aunt and towards the kitchen. "She is not fond of me," I mutter, thinking of how Aunt Taylor has taken to me since we met.

"Her mother just died, Leala, give it some time."

Declan is right, for she did just lose her mother. Aunt Taylor cannot be expected to be ecstatic about meeting me when her mother was brutally murdered to send me a warning. "I would like to get to know her...and you." My uncle nods, offering me a warm smile as he pours his wife another glass.

"Knowing my wife, she would be willing to do so, but not for some time. You must understand the strange circumstances of the world you live in and how it has shaped how she will perceive you."

"Did she get along well with my mother?" I ask, curious as I wonder just how much my aunt and mother really knew one another.

"From what I heard, they were good friends before your father came along. Taylor will not budge on her interpretation of your father."

Nor will I try and change her belief about my father. I know she thinks my father was scum, someone who used my mother until there was nothing else to use, but I know there was good in him too. I heard what he was like from others and I cannot just ignore the baggage his brought my mother.

"Where are you from?"

"Have you not figured it out yet?" Declan asks, raising an eyebrow as he seems confused. "You guessed my roots." I know he is referring to the ink on his skin, letting me know he is someone who uses magic. "My ancestors are of a coven in Europe, my grandparents having moved to Maine with a group of mages to begin their own coven in a new world."

"What would you know of a coven in Scotland or Ireland? A woman named Fiona once ran that coven and fought beside my mother." Declan could know of that coven which helped my mother fight the crown and that same coven which helped bring Sybil back from the dead.

The air grows tense for a few seconds, Declan unsure of what to say as he glances around for a sign of anyone listening in. "I know of them." I nod, wondering if Declan would dare to enlighten me any more. "Have you done business with them?"

"They have reached out to me, almost two months ago. A wax seal left behind as a way to call."

"Be weary of working with witches."

"Even yourself?"

"Be cautious of working with anyone other than yourself." As Declan delivers his warning, he takes my hand in his, pushing back my sleeve as he inspects my forearm. Pressing two fingers against my skin, he traces the fingers down to my palm, closing my palm around his fingers as I grow cautious. "Do you wish to seek their aid?"

"I wonder if it is a possibility. That same coven fought alongside my mother. The more this war stretches on, the more I hear about other factors at play, about ancient magic my men could be up against which scares me."