Lucien smirked and turned to Caia. He seemed to read her confusion and smiled reassuringly. “Marion’s right. The Dark Coven is just a little shook up right now. They’re taking precautions, but it doesn’t mean anything.”
If that was true, then why didn’t she feel so sure?
Caia nodded, reluctantly, because what she was about to impart, was just going to further their belief that Midnights were not to be trusted to play ‘the game’ with a cool head. She took a deep breath. “Well, despite Nikolai’s orders he has a rebel in his midst. A guy called Pierre du Bois?”
A wrinkle of concentration appeared between Marion’s eyebrows. “Du Bois? Du Bois? I know that name, but it’s not one belonging to the old families. What is he up to?”
“This warlock has gone behind Nikolai’s back and raised a small group of dissenters against Nikolai’s decision. It seems he has a problem with one of the city packs from here. The MacLachlans?”
Lucien grunted in surprise. “The MacLachlans live... what… 300 miles north of here but... they’re not a huge pack.” His eyes swung to Marion. “What are the Midnights doing going after a relatively small pack?”
“The MacLachlans are an old Scottish pack,” Saffron spoke up, moving gracefully closer to them all. “They sprung up around the end of the 13th century in Renfrewshire, Scotland, and have gifted the Daylight Coven with great Rogue Hunters throughout the centuries. I’ve worked with...” she shrugged elegantly and perched down beside Marion, studying her mistress as if she would find the answer in her face, “Hmm... what? Eight, nine generations of Rogue Hunters from that pack.”
Marion nodded, turning back to Caia and Lucien. “Saffron’s right. They may be small but to older members of either coven they are a well-known warrior pack.”
Well that explained that.
“Pierre is arrogant and young.” Caia sighed, standing up to stretch her legs. She hadn’t been on a run in weeks and it was telling on her body. “That’s why you don’t recognize him as an old warlock. I thought because of his ability to arouse such devotion that you may have heard of him, but I’m thinking he’s just very charismatic. His trace is malevolent; his prejudice against the Daylights extraordinary considering how young he is; and... I think he might be quite powerful. Some of the others seem afraid of him. From what you’ve told me, and from my understanding of Pierre’s character, wiping out a respected and feared pack of lykans would cement his own reputation. Although I can’t feel it in his designs, he might use a victory like taking down the MacLachlans as a reason to take to the Council and ask them to make him Regent instead.”
“When is this attack going to take place?” Lucien narrowed his eyes, folding his arms across his chest defensively so that the muscles in his biceps rippled. His body language had become so familiar to Caia. Lucien was preparing for war. The butterflies that had been dormant in her stomach for the majority of the conversation suddenly fluttered into a riot. She had known this news was going to be the beginning of something. Something big. Something irreversible.
“Four weeks.”
Marion pursed her lips. “I’ll be back in five minutes. I have to speak to Marita. Come, Saffron.”
And the witch was gone, along with the faerie, and not for the first time, Caia envied their flawless use of the communication spell that allowed them to travel to an intended destination instantly.
I knew it.
This is big.
“You OK?”
Her gaze swung back to Lucien, whose eyes had softened with concern.
“I’m fine. Just preparing myself.”
“For what?”
She snorted. “The apocalypse.”
Lucien grinned. “Well, let’s just make sure it’s them and not us that end up in the underworld, huh.”
“Wow, talk about pressure.”
“I’m kidding.”
“I’m not.”
He sighed heavily and strode towards her. Every nerve ending came to life the closer he got, and then sizzled uncontrollably when he cupped her chin in his large hand, his eyes shining with faith and strength. “You can only do what you’re doing, Caia. Yes, you’re important to this war, but are you going to end it?” He shook his head, stroking her cheek soothingly. “One person can’t stop a war, especially when you’re not the one running the show.”
She nodded gratefully, trying desperately not to melt into his embrace. Goddess, these last few months had been hard pretending not to want any more from their relationship. Or friendship as it were, she thought grumpily. She sighed as his hand dropped away and he pulled back from her.
“What do you think Marion’s saying to Marita?” he asked gruffly, almost as if he had been just as affected by their momentary intimacy.
“Well-”
“I was merely relating the situation as it stands.” The magik suddenly appeared before them, minus Saffron this time.