Allegiance of Honor (Psy-Changeling #15) - Nalini Singh Page 0,93
Monroe began to shimmer, as if he’d finally figured out he could shift and escape his bonds.
Lucas didn’t hesitate.
His claws sliced through Monroe’s carotid and jugular in the split second before the shift took hold.
• • •
“HE was good once,” the healer whispered to Lucas while the two of them stood below the aeries, waiting for the soldiers to return.
They’d gone to bury the man who’d once been their alpha, giving him that much at least, even if they could no longer give him their respect.
“Arrogance became a way of life for him well before the Psy attack.” The healer hugged herself. “I could see it settling in, tried to counsel him, but he would never listen. He always knew best.” She swallowed. “Even his sentinels couldn’t get him to pay attention, see what he was doing to the pack.”
“Then they should’ve walked away.” A pitiless answer, but that was how a pack was supposed to function—an alpha had no automatic right to the loyalty of his strongest men and women. He earned it. If he didn’t have that loyalty, he didn’t have the right to be alpha.
“Yes.” The healer sighed. “I think they stayed because we had so many elders and children and . . . because of inertia.” Her hand trembled as she wiped away the remnants of her tears. “The money cursed us in a way. It made it easier to stay with the pack than to strike out and find a new life.”
Lucas tried to be charitable toward the dead, but the truth was that their choices had helped doom the pack as much as Monroe’s mismanagement.
“But don’t blame those two,” the healer whispered urgently as SkyElm’s sole surviving dominants reappeared in the distance. “They wanted to roam and explore, were held back by our lack of dominants. And they’re babies for all the responsibility they’d taken up.”
Lucas had already figured that out—these two couldn’t be older than twenty-two, twenty-three. In DarkRiver, they’d be junior soldiers at most.
Waiting for the two to reach him, he said, “It’s done?”
They snapped to attention. “Yes, sir,” the female said.
“We didn’t place a marker,” the male added defiantly. “He doesn’t deserve that.”
A pause followed . . . before the healer seemed to realize she was now the highest-ranking member of SkyElm. “I don’t know what to do,” she said bluntly. “I don’t know if another ocelot pack will take us—they’re all so small, and we’d come with only two soldiers as opposed to four people who need protecting.”
“I think you’re selling your submissive packmate short.” Lucas had silently checked the other aerie after cleaning up the blood on his body, discovered the submissive had armed himself with knives and was waiting behind the door. “Call him down. All the adults need to be here.” And the survivors of this pack needed to learn to forget bad habits starting right now.
Submissives in DarkRiver were treated as equal packmates, simply those with a different skill set and strength. Never would they be excluded from such decisions.
Only when all four adults surrounded him did Lucas say, “Did any of you know what Monroe was up to?”
They all shook their heads, the submissive having been briefed on what had happened. Lucas picked up no signs of deception. He’d already been certain about the soldiers and the healer. Now, having just seen an example of how this pack had thought of its nondominant members, he realized the submissive was the last person Monroe would’ve trusted with any plot.
“I’m extending an invitation for you to join DarkRiver.”
Relief crashed over their faces, too powerful to be hidden. Changelings who weren’t loners by choice were lost and broken without a pack.
“But,” he said before anyone could speak, “we function very differently from SkyElm. You’ll have to learn our rules and abide by them.” He pointed at the soldiers. “You two will be demoted to what your rank should be, given your age and skills.”
Both nodded so quickly that Lucas realized neither wanted to be in a position they couldn’t handle. Intelligent then. Good.
“I already have a senior healer,” he said to the oldest member of SkyElm. “But she’d welcome help.” Lucas’s pack was growing day by day; there was plenty of room for another pair of healing hands.
“I know Tamsyn,” the other woman said with a smile that lit up the weathered lines of her face. “She’s brilliant and far more suited to a strong pack like DarkRiver than I’d ever be. And . . . I’m tired.”