Mr. Vrana (A Soulmark Series Book 4)

by Rebecca Main

  “Thank you,” Sebastian says. “I….” My wide eyes look to Sebastian, whose throat bobs with uncertainty. “Thank you.”

  “Of course,” I murmur, giving one last squeeze. “Now, let’s put on a show.”

  Sebastian slips his arm around my waist and guides me into the amphitheater. It takes my breath away.

  The room is deceptively large, with the entrance leading immediately into a set of stairs to take occupants down into the gently sloping, seating gallery. Generous alleys are allotted between the rows of seats, which the numerous households take advantage of. They linger together, avoiding their seats until instructed to do so.

  Above, the ceiling feels close enough to touch, starting low and then arcing ever upward. Shining black beams play the part of ribs to the structure, as long strands of withered ivy act as veins.

  We wind our way around the topmost tier, another signal of our status among the collection of Greater Households. The seats are the color of raisins and tout leaves and tulip patterns in the classic jacquard style. The only group to watch our passage with interest is the Gunwyns who sit nearby.

  But my interest lies on the main floor. The long oval room boasts its gallery seating three-quarters of the way around the room. Where the ends should meet stands a lonely tree. Its branches are bare. Its bark a dull brown. Before it stands a podium, and before the podium, an oblong table filled by the Celestial Court.

  “Here.” Sebastian’s hand applies pressure to my lower back and directs me into the seat next to Jax. Once I am seated, he moves down to the empty place between Ruby and Jakob. Another status structure, with me at its end.

  A gruff sigh issues to my right, and I turn to peek at my neighbor. It is William 'the Beast' Gunwyn.

  “Lass.” The Scottish burr makes my stomach flutter, but not in excitement.

  Remembering our less than friendly last encounter, I allow my green eyes to narrow upon him. “Don’t you mean blood whore?”

  His copper eyes roll quickly upward before landing back on me, a rakish amusement sparkling within them. “I suppose I owe an apology for that,” he says, his voice like gravel. “I’ve meant to make amends.”

  “Is that right?”

  William hums his agreement, the sound like a rough purr. “That’s right. Turns out you’re not a traitor after all.” The scowl I send him only triggers a bark-like laugh from the hybrid. “Christ, you’ve certainly got the temperament of a she-wolf. I haven’t been on the receiving end of a scowl like that in ages.”

  “I imagine you were on the receiving end of it quite often,” I snip, turning up my nose.

  “Aye,” he murmurs, his demeanor going still and solemn. “I judged ya too harshly before, lass. But you can’t be too careful in the Dark Court.”

  “I suppose that’s as close to an apology as I’ll get from you,” I say. His bland stare agrees.

  When a warm hand settles on my arm, I turn to my left. Jax nods discreetly to William, then gives me his full attention. “The delegates and their entourages are here. Look, they're taking up the seats flanking the tree.”

  “What supernaturals occupy the delegate spots?”

  “Vampyrés, sorcerers, witches, lycans, shifters, and sirens. The mermaids hold an honorary position at the table, for obvious reasons.”

  I scan the supernaturals seated at the opposite end of the room. They’re dressed just as formally as the Dark Court, decked out in glittering jewels and designer outfits to announce their worth. There is no differentiating who is who from this distance, though, the small section of red hair I assume belong to the sirens.

  “Here come the Royal Household representatives. Madame Roux will hold court this year,” he whispers as they make their entrance.

  The vampyré delegates, Adrian Thorburn, Count Delacroix, and Madame Roux, take the remaining spots at the oblong table. All except Madame Roux. She stands rigid behind her chair at the peak of the table, shrewdly eyeing the table’s occupants before commencing the meeting with a sharp bang from a gavel.

  “Let the record show, this meeting of the Celestial Court began at precisely 11:00 p.m. on the tenth of September. Welcome, representatives. Tonight’s agenda includes two items of business. We shall begin with agenda item A: the verified collaboration of supernaturals in North America. Would the Northern American or European lycan delegate care to expand on this issue?”

  Blood rushes from my face, and my stomach gives a painful lurch. And though my eyes are pinned on the table of representatives, I swear all eyes of the Dark Court turn to me. I keep my face devoid of further emotion. A woman with hair the color of snow briefly raises her hand. Madame Roux nods and extends a hand toward the podium behind her before sitting.

  Jax’s warm breath stirs past my ear before he speaks. “The North American representative—”

  “Adele Blanc,” I finish stoically.

  Adele wears a creamy white off-the-shoulder number and walks to the podium with confidence. I know her, or rather, of her. Her pack is the oldest and most prominent within Northern America, hailing from Quebec. She is not only the alpha she-wolf of the Blanc pack but the future mother-in-law of Atticus.

  “The recent collaboration is the result of a far larger reaching conflict between two rival packs. Several years ago, a sizable portion of the Wselfwulf pack broke away to form the Adolphus pack. During this split, several lycans were killed on either side. These deaths corrupted what should have been a peaceful severing of ties. In recent years, the Wselfwulf pack has escalated the conflict, with the Adolphus pack responding by creating an alliance with a local witch coven.”

  The audience erupts into whispers. Around me, speculations and exclamations of genuine surprise and gall fill my ears. A lump forms in my throat as I remain perfectly still.

  “Silence!” Madame Roux commands. The amphitheater quiets. “Though a dispute of this nature would typically be handled by its own kind, the added element of the alliance warrants the Celestial Court’s input. For centuries, supernaturals have lived amicably. But this alliance threatens the well-balanced peace we all keep. Mrs. Blanc will explain further.”

  Adele gives a curt nod to the other woman before she continues.

  “In an effort to eliminate their rivals, the Adolphus pack has made use of the Trinity coven’s eldritch witches. Additionally, they possess a magical artifact which prohibits the entry of other supernatural creatures. Such power coupled with the growing size and strength of the Adolphus pack could leave any supernatural clan, pack, or coven in danger from their wrath.”

  Another rising of voices courses through the crowd, the supernaturals in attendance jolted by Adele’s passionate delivery. I ignore the nudging elbow at my left, feeling my throat tighten.

  “That’s utter nonsense,” I hiss under my breath. My hands curl into fists in my lap, the only sign of my anger.

  “She’s has a point though, doesn’t she?” William responds in a low voice. “Can’t have another group of supernaturals rising up to contest this bunch.”

  “They’re not a threat,” I retort with a measure of heat in my whisper. “They’re protecting—”

  William grunts, halting my explanation, and my gaze reluctantly turns to him. His copper eyes are half hidden by the fall of his lashes, and his matching hair is slicked back into a sleek and short knot at the back of his head. He wears all black, but instead of the classic, slimming effect the color has on most people, William looks deadlier and larger than ever.

  “You don’t have to go explaining to me,” he says.

  I avert my gaze, refocusing it on the representatives on the floor and not William's cool assurance. Their arguments are muted by the din of the crowd. And though I focus on the swift movement of their lips, trying to decipher their words, I cannot keep up. Everything around me is a distant buzz to the fortissimo of my thoughts—of one idea alone.

  I have to warn them.

  A warm hand settles on my forearm, it
reels me be back from my fugue state. Blinking rapidly, I clear the moisture that has gathered at the rim of my eyes and shrug out of Jax’s touch. At some point, I’ve leaned forward, some desperate part of me drawing closer to those who speak ill of my pack. His hand returns, urging me to lean back. I do so with an air of defeat.

  “Buck up,” Jax whispers, fingers tenderly squeezing my arm and slipping to my masked soulmark. “Listen.”

  “… Or is it temporary?”

  The amphitheater takes its time in quieting. The question, one of which I’ve only partly heard, garners the interest of the audience in full.

  “It is hard to say, Mr. Rai,” Adele replies. She still stands proudly at the podium, modest chest thrust forward and chin held high. “Perhaps if the Adolphus pack requested the Trinity coven lower their wards we might ask them properly.”

  Several laugh at Adele’s snide answer, but not enough to stem the representatives' flow of conversation.

  “Mrs. Blanc, is it true that your daughter is betrothed to the beta of the Adolphus pack because of a soulmark?” asks the male representative to the left of Adele’s unoccupied seat.

  It is clear, even from afar, that Adele narrows her sights upon the representative—a man who looks to be in his fifties with dull brown hair and wire-framed glasses. He speaks with a British accent that is much more refined than William’s.

  “It is true”— the audience breaks out into excited murmurs— “but I assure the Celestial Court, I remain unbiased in the discussion and decision of this matter. I will happily recuse myself from the voting process if it so appeases the court.”

  The representatives take their time in settling Adele’s offer. They choose to allow her to remain in the discussion process but revoke her voting rights to the particular topic. Their decision does not seem to bother Adele either way.

  “And is it true, Mrs. Blanc,” the Englishman asks, “that the foundation of the alliance between the Adolphus pack and Trinity coven is based upon a soulmark?” Adele flusters, and this time the din of the crowd is quelled by the heavy bang of a gavel. Madame Roux, with her shocking red hair, glares murder at any who dare speak again.

  “I cannot confirm this information—”

  The Englishman rises from his seat. “My knowledge of this information came from your source, Mrs. Blanc,” he announces. “If you doubt the integrity of the information now, you invalidate all prior information you have shared. Is the soulmark between the alpha of the Adolphus pack and the granddaughter of one of the Elder Triad the basis for the alliance or not?”

  There is an element to the Englishman’s body language that tugs at my memory. How he rests his hands upon the oblong table… how he leans across it, lip curling… how Adele responds in kind.

  Alphas.

  The Englishman is the European lycan representative. Of course.

  “The information I’ve gathered is all verified, Mr. Reynolds. The alliance between the pack and coven is based upon a soulmark,” Adele confirms, voice hard.

  Mr. Reynolds straightens and squares his shoulders, addressing the table instead of Adele. “Though the representatives of the Celestial Court see new faces as the decades pass, I believe we are all aware of former cases involving the illustrious soulmark. The Lincolnshire case, the Brimwoods and Avondales, and the province of Umbria incident? I ask the court to recall the favor of these past decisions and their results before making a decision on the Adolphus pack.”

  The representatives confer among themselves, and I watch in silent torment.

  “What was the outcome of those cases?” I ask Jax when ten minutes have passed and the representatives continue to speak amongst themselves.

  “I’m not that old.” He snorts.

  Annoyance seeps through my passing glare, but Jax merely shrugs. I fold back into my seat, crossing my arms over my stomach as my breakfast whirls with uncertainty inside of me.

  “They favored the marked pair, lass,” William says. I startle at the cool touch of his fingers grazing my shoulder, but he doesn’t look offended. Merely bored, if I read his expression correctly. “Looks like the Adolphus pack might inch out of this by the skin of their teeth.”

  I open my mouth to speak, then zip my lips closed. He isn’t bored, not at all. He’s fishing for a reaction from me. The quirk of his lips as my expression turns haughty confirms it.

  “I suppose we shall see, won’t we?”

  “We shall,” he says, then points a finger out toward the main floor. “But if you don’t pay attention, you’ll miss it.”

  I whip my head in the direction of his pointed finger, homing in immediately on the fact that Adele Blanc is now seated at the table.

  “And the ayes?” Madame Roux asks.

  Several hands raise, though for what proposal, I have no idea. I count the number of hands, coming across Mr. Reynold’s among those thrust high. A flutter of hope stirs in my heart.

  “Let the record show, the Celestial Court agrees that the dispute between the Wselfwulf and Adolphus pack shall not be interfered with nor the alliance between the Adolphus pack and Trinity coven. The court will take a brief recess before the next agenda item," Madame Roux says.

  The amphitheater stirs to life. Vampyrés rise from their seat and shoot across the curved aisles to speak candidly with other members of their household about the decision. Even the supernaturals at the other end of the room do the same. I, on the other hand, find a way to collapse further into my cushioned seat. Tilting my head back as far as comfort permits, I stare resolutely at the rib-vaulted ceiling and let relief wash over me.

  They are safe. For now.

  Too long my priorities have surrounded only me and my circumstances. It’s time I plunge back into the effort to make contact with my pack and family. But when exactly had I stopped trying in the first place?

  Too soon the recess comes to an end. Vampyrés rush back to their seats in a blur of motion, the excitement of the last decision still lingering in the air.

  “Order, please,” Madame Roux calls out, shushing the crowd. “The Celestial Court will now move on to the meeting’s second and final business, agenda item B: the proposed inclusion of demon representation on the Celestial Court.”

  Madame Roux’s announcement receives varied reactions from the crowd, but it is clear the majority despises the proposal. Their animosity coils through the musty air. It prickles at my skin and leaves both me and the wolf on edge. A slant of my eyes to the right shows no marked change in William’s demeanor. But a tightness lingers around his eyes. Glancing to my left, I see Jax sits rigidly with restrained energy and has slipped to the edge of his seat.

  His body language is easily read by any who dare look his way. He wants this proposal to pass, all in the hopes their inclusion will diversify the court and potentially allow for more inclusive rules at the Dark Court. But from the strict angle of his back and the tight draw of his shoulders, there is more to it than I know. A thoughtful line appears between my brows as I continue to study the sorcerer.

  What does Jax really hope to see achieved from the ruling?

  Jax jerks back. The seat cushion releasing an unexpected groan as his back hits it, a mighty scoff barely covering the sound. Jakob leans forward in his seat to send Jax a warning glare, and while Jax settles his temper, it is not done with the Vrana family finesse.

  It’s only by chance that I catch Jax’s eye. I’m positive he prefers his focus to stay upon the arguments toting from center stage, but his eye roll stops halfway as he catches my look. A scowl quickly overtakes his face, his eyebrows scrunching over his hazel eyes.

  “All right?” I ask.

  Jax purses his lips. Then he gives a brisk shake of his head, ignoring Jakob’s continued glare.

  “This is the third time the demons have attempted to petition a seat on the Celestial Court. And like all the times before, I’m sure they’ll be turned away. These are the same arguments used in the last proposal t
wenty years ago,” Jax says.

  “What happened to not being ‘that old’?”

  Jax colors briefly. “Court transcripts,” he responds, losing some of his steam. “It took the shifters two tries, and the sorcerers four. The sirens got accepted on their first try because of the Roux Household, who in turn helped get the mermaids their honorary seat. And I won’t get started on how long it took the others to get more than one seat on the court for representation.”

  “I didn’t realize you were so… knowledgeable about the Celestial Court. I’ve only read about them in a book or two,” I respond, keeping my voice low and even as I shift closer to Jax. “The vampyrés, lycans, and witches were the first correct? They formed the Celestial Court?”

  Jax nods. “Yes, during the hysteria of 1734. Too many supernaturals went unchecked.”

  “You want them to have a seat on the Celestial Court.” My question is made as more of a statement, and it leaves Jax fumbling for a response.

  At first, I don’t believe he will respond. He faces forward once more with a severe scowl still trumping his features. A pained sigh escapes him, and then he looks to me once more. There is a spark in his eye—a kindling of conviction.

  “I want every supernatural creature to have equal representation on that court,” he whispers to me just as the audience erupts into a mixture of hisses and applause. “And you should too. Did you know the lycans used to have more representation on the court?”

  I shake my head.

  “When the other factions of the court learned that lycans could no longer shift at will, they cut their number from three to two.”

  Without thought, I mirror Jax’s previous movement, staring straight ahead into the pit below, where the representatives make their arguments. Jax’s eyes are like the press of an iron against my skin. He demands an answer with nothing but his probing stare, and on my other side, I feel the heat of William’s as well. Always judging, that one. “I didn’t know that particular fact,” I manage to say at last.

  “Vampyrés have seven representatives. The shifters and witches have two each, as do the lycans. Sorcerers and sirens have one each, but the sirens always vote with the vampyrés.”