“You mark my words, Annalyse. In your lifetime there will be a Pack member on the stage.”
Danika kept half her attention on the discussion going on across the small table between Lady Berin and her granddaughter-in-law—the Pack loved opera and many of them had amazing voices, but not even the youngest and most rebellious would do anything so vulgar as take to the stage—and half her attention on her husband standing over by the far wall. He was deep in conversation with Neils Yervick—his wife had sent her excuses and Danika had to admit she was just as glad not to have her attention split by Kirstin’s sharp tongue. While their verbal fencing often made her more boring social obligations bearable, tonight the Imperial army was at the border and Danika neither wanted nor needed the distraction.
Among the uniformed men surrounding Ryder and Neils, she could see General Narvine of the 2nd, Colonels Greer and Aryat of the 2/2 and 2/4, and a number of younger officers she didn’t recognize. To a man, their expressions whether talking or listening were so completely neutral, she shivered. She could almost hear Ryder instructing them to hide their reactions from the surrounding civilians.
Tucked behind her own mask of polite interest, she noted that while facial expressions might be under control, some Pack members were visibly agitated, shifting their weight and pulling at their clothing. Jaspyr, usually among the most levelheaded of Ryder’s cousins, worried the three pewter buttons on his jacket in and out of their holes, his fingers in constant motion. What news had they heard that…?
“Lady Hagen?”
Danika turned toward the soft touch on her arm to find Annalyse had shifted her attention from Lady Berin—now arguing the lack of vigor in recent hunts with the equally elderly Lady Evanjylan. When Annalyse inclined her head toward the front of the café, Danika followed the younger woman’s line of sight and suddenly understood Jaspyr’s problem.
The mass of people passing back and forth in the lobby outside the café was almost entirely made up of mothers and mages of a marriageable age. A quick glance around the café confirmed the unmated Pack members were most affected by the scents rising from the crowd.
A word to one of the officers of the Opera House and Danika could have the crowd dispersed, but that hardly seemed fair as she, herself, had caught Ryder’s attention as part of a similar promenade. Here and now, however, the Pack needed to remain focused on the security of Aydori. Reaching out with power, she combed through the air currents and redirected them so that they flowed from the café to the lobby.
After a moment, she glanced back at the men surrounding her husband in time to see Jaspyr move his hand away from the front of his jacket, the buttons now securely fastened. When she shifted her gaze to Ryder, he caught and held it long enough to nod his thanks before returning to his conversation with General Narvine. The general nodded in agreement when Ryder stopped speaking and, although Danika couldn’t see the general’s face, must have said something in turn as the lieutenant beside him snapped to attention, pivoted on one heel, and all but ran from the café.
That didn’t look good.
Behind her, Annalyse drew in a sharp breath, and Danika remembered the younger woman’s husband was with the Hunt Pack and the Hunt Pack had met the Imperial army some hours before.
The Pack healed so quickly they were very hard to kill. Silver poisoned them, but they’d been careful to keep that knowledge from their enemies.
Still, only three months married and hours without news…
Reassurance would be meaningless as Danika knew no more than Annalyse did, so it would have to be distraction. Tugging on the cuff of her lace mitten as she turned, she waggled the fingers of her right hand and said softly, “Forced by circumstance to a public display of mage-craft, how very vulgar.”
Annalyse’s green-flecked eyes widened, then she smiled. A polite smile, a society smile, but it lifted a little of her distress. “As the Alpha Female, Lady Hagen, you set the fashion. At least, that’s what Geoffrey told me when I joined the Pack.”
“So I cannot, therefore, be vulgar?” Danika lifted her cup and grinned over the rim. “That could come in handy.”
This smile reached Annalyse’s eyes, crinkling them at the corners. “My much more vulgar solution would have involved washing the scent from the air.”
Sixth level Water at least, Danika realized, setting her cup down, and she clearly had a more delicate touch than most Water-mages managed. “You could actually make it rain inside the building?”
“If there’s moisture enough. With so many people and the ceilings so high…” She waved off her ability to perform an impressive bit of mage-craft, her gaze sliding past Danika’s shoulder, back to the men around the Pack Leader. “Do you think something has happened? Something bad?”
“Of course something bad has happened,” Lady Berin growled. “To the Imperials. The Hunt Pack will have sent them howling home with their tails between their legs.” She reached across the table and gripped her granddaughter-in-law’s wrist, the back of her hand grown hairy with age. “Our Geoffrey will be back in no time. Isn’t that right, Lady Hagen?”
If she’d been born Pack, Danika would have bared teeth at Lady Berin’s tone even as she was aware she was demanding reassurance, not challenging. Instead, she smiled carefully and said, “The Hunt Pack is the best Aydori has to offer.”
Lady Berin nodded in satisfaction, but Danika could see that Annalyse knew her words meant nothing at all.
Mirian spotted an acquaintance from school and maneuvered her mother alongside. Given that Bertryn wouldn’t be competing for the same attention from the Pack, her mother settled in beside his mother, leaving the two of them to follow obediently behind.
“Better odds for me than you,” Bertryn murmured, as the four of them reinserted themselves into the slow moving promenade.
“True enough.” Behind the wrought-iron barrier, the café’s small, round tables were surrounded by women, born Pack and Mage-pack. The male Pack members stood together by the rear wall, talking with men in uniform. Probably officers of the 2nd. Mirian wished she could see their expressions, but distance made that impossible. Judging by their posture, they weren’t happy. And why would they be? Seventeen miles from the border…
Air currents shifted.
“Did you feel that?”
“Feel what?” Bertryn glanced down at her, irises dominated by rich brown flecks. He’d had five levels at the end of first year, and the Earth-master had practically refused to allow him out of her sight. Rumor had it that she’d cried when he left at the end of the session. All things considered, asking if he’d felt Air move had been a stupid question.
“Never mind.” Mirian waited until they’d turned and started back again before saying, “What are you even doing here? I thought after graduation you were going to return to the university to teach?”
He shrugged. “I’m the eldest of eight and the only one with any power; teaching won’t help situate them, but getting into the Pack will. With so many of the Pack in Bercarit, this is an opportunity. Given your…”
Mirian frowned into the pause.
“…difficulties,” he continued diplomatically, “I’m a little surprised to see you.”
“My mother wants invitations to better parties.” His brows rose at her tone, and she sighed. “Sorry. Being a part of this is just…”
“Frustrating because it’s futile?”
“Entirely.” More than he knew. The air currents now blew the mage scent away from the Pack. Glancing into the café past a couple of giggling girls who couldn’t have been more than sixteen, their eyelids stained Healer gold, Mirian found herself looking into a pair of very blue eyes. It only lasted for a moment and the movement of the promenade broke the connection before Mirian realized that the eyes were Lady Hagen’s.