Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 204: Jack-Eye: The Old Ways JACK-EYE Pulling the phone away from my ear, I stare at the screen to make sure I'm not hallucinating.

But no, the display is very clear, announcing I've been on the phone with contact "King Dumbass" for forty-seven seconds.

There's only one "King Dumbass" in my contact list, and he's thankfully oblivious to what I've named him. It changes every so often. For a few months he was Alpha Shitface, until Caine happened to see a message thread and asked who it was. Still can't remember what lie I pulled out of my ass that day, but it worked.

It's a perk of being best friends; you can nyour boss whatever you want and probably survive when he finds out because he's so sick of your bullshit he'll just let it slide.

"I'm sorry, say that again, boss?" Caine's irritation is palpable even in the slightly staticky silence. "I said we're putting together a forum to listen to their goddamn complaints." Okay, that's what I thought he said.

"You are?" "Yes." "Without me?" Sigh. "Yes." When I pull the phone away from my ear again, it still declares I'm on the line with "King Dumbass".

"Who's helping you?" I ask suspiciously, because there's no way Caine's capable of the amount of patience this kind of thing requires.

"Do you think I'm incapable of gathering a few wolves and listening to what they have to say?" he snaps, and I nod vehemently, wishing he could see me.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying." Silence for about two-point-three seconds, then, "I'm going to kill you." "No, you're not. You're too dependent on my pretty face and you have no idea how to add appointments to your calendar app." Silence again. "Why the hell are you even calling?" Ah.

Right.

"Just updating you. Doesn't look like we have signal down in the tunnels, still haven't seen even the tip of Halloway's tail, but we've rescued about thirty-five shifters. I know you're busy there in Blue Mountain, but I think you should send Dylan up here." Caine grunts. "Fiddleback isn't a large pack. The territory can be absorbed by their neighbors." "Agreed, but the problem is the mess they've left behind. I'm not sure what a neighboring alpha might walk into, and we don't need them following Halloway's footsteps." Another grunt. "Not Dylan. He's helpingwith the forum." I smirk into the phone. "So you need help after all, my liege." "Grow up," Caine snaps, his voice carrying that special strain of annoyance he reserves just for me. The one that means I'm right and he hates it.

I clear my throat, switching to a more professional tone. No need to antagonize him further when I need something. "If you can't spare Dylan, perhaps send someone from home. We need bodies here. Every tI head back underground, the victims are left unguarded. Makesfeel a little itchy, you know?" Caine's long-suffering sigh whooshes through the phone. I can perfectly picture him rubbing his forehead, a vein probably throbbing at his temple. It's like he's here in the room with me, only better, because I don't have to worry about him throwing a punch when I inevitably say something to piss him off.

He doesn't do it often. Just sometimes.

And you deserve it each time, my wolf mutters, popping into my consciousness in a rare moment of interest. "Fine. I'll get a team out there. How many do you need?" "Five or so should be enough." "Got it. Forwardthe address so they know where to go." "Do you know how to share=" "I'll figure it out." Yeah, right. I'm sure Dylan's going to have to help Caine. It's a sad sight to see a grizzled old wolf teaching the younger one how to use modern technology, but Caine's always been tech-illiterate.

"Got it, boss. Send a healer, too. They're in bad shape." "Why not kidnap a doctor?" "And how am I going to keep them here? I'm not leaving Lyre to deal with the tunnels on her own." "Why not? She's stronger than you." My spine straightens. "Seriously, bro?" "Callbro again and you'll be an omega before the moon comes up." He hates the current generation of slang.

I clear my throat, tactfully returning to the conversation at hand. "Something's going on. She can't use her magic or sshit. It'll be another half a day before she's back to normal." "How did that happen?" "No idea. You know how she is." He makes a soft sound of acknowledgement. "Okay. I'll figure it out on my end." "Rush it if you can. How's Grace doing?" He grunts, sounding rather sour. "Don't even ask. I did everything she asked and she still looks atlike I'm ssort of monster." Somehow, I feel like there's more to the story. "What did you do?" "She doesn't want our relationship known to the pack, so I let our people know she isn't my mate." My eye twitches a little, warning bells going off in my head. There's no way that's how the story really goes. "And how did you do that?" "What do you mean, how? I told them she isn't my mate." Closing my eyes, I send up a prayer to the Moon Goddess to keep my king in her good graces. "Did they think she was your mate?" "How the hell am I supposed to know? I just made it clear like she wanted." Now it's starting to make sense. Sad, horrible, but painfully true-to-character sense. "Maybe don't be so proactive next time." "What, am I wrong?" The edge in his voice assuresI'm not only on thin ice, but dancing on it. With a flamethrower. "No, boss. Just saying, she probably wanted control over it. You should have waited for her signal." At this point I'm just saying whatever bullshit comes to mind in an effort to save my own skin, and I send up an additional prayer to the Moon Goddess, asking her to intervene if Grace tries to skinalive later.

Caine goes quiet again. "Hmm. You think so?" "Oh yeah. Totally. One hundred percent. You know me; I know women." Fuck, I'm so screwed. Then again, he's never been the best at communicating, so hopefully my "help" will never cup, and I'll never have to deal with the future Queen's wrath.

"I was thinking of sending Fenris to her " "You mean a literal sign saying 'This is my mate, don't touch her?"" He sighs. "I claimed the children. I can always say he's there to protect them." "You claimed the..." You know what? Why the hell am I even entertaining the man? Let him dig his own grave. I have more important problems.

"Why, is that a problem, too?" "No, no. Not at all. Great idea. The best idea. You're doing great, boss. Oh, no, my signal's fading! Can you hear me? Hello? Helllooooo...?" I press the red button with finality after pulling the phone as far from my mouth as I can manage, deciding to never again put myself in the middle of my alpha's relationship problems. He's hopeless.

I slip my phone back into my pocket with a grimace, half expecting the damn thing to burst into flames from the sheer awkwardness of that conversation. How a guy who can rip enemy packs apart without blinking manages to fuck up so spectacularly with one human woman is beyond me.

"That was the Lycan King, wasn't it?"

The question comes from the middle-aged man who's been herding the rescued shifters like an anxious sheepdog since we pulled them from those hellish tunnels. Unlike the others, he's a little less malnourished, having been in the cages for less time. He still has svitality left in him, his skin still tanned from sunlight. His eyes are clear, too, alert and watchful. And, belying his overall bulky frame, he's ssort of prey shifter.

Deer, I think.

Elk? Then again, he's kind of bulky, so I wouldn't even bat an eye if he said he's a buffalo shifter.

"Yeah." I roll my shoulders, working out the tension from holding the phone between my ear and shoulder for too long. "He's sending help our way." The shifter's face transforms in an instant. His weathered features soften with something like reverence, and before I can process what's happening, he's making a fluid gesture with his right hand-fingers spreading like antler points before sweeping inward to touch his heart, then his forehead.

"May the throne stand strong," he murmurs, voice hardly a whisper. "May the moon's light shine upon his path." I blink. What the actual fuck? The phrase and gesture is something we only do during the most formal ceremonies of a Lycan King's ascension. Nobody does that shit out of nowhere anymore. It's a relic of the past.

Basically, it's like watching someone break out Shakespearean English at a McDonald's drive-thru.

I narrow my eyes, studying him closer. "Where'd you learn that?" My scent must've spiked with suspicion because the guy straightens, suddenly looking uncertain. "The old customs are still practiced in scircles. I mean no disrespect to the High Alpha." Now I'm really interested. Prey shifters typically keep to their own communities, maintaining distance from predator packs due to the rampant bullying. They sure as hell don't usually bow to wolf royalty.

Not anymore, anyway.

"Interesting choice of devotional for an elk," I say, crossing my arms and throwing out my guess as to his identity.

The elk shifter's lips quirk in a small smile. "The Lycan Throne has long been a symbol of hope for many old shifter clans. Not just wolves." Oh? I straighten.

"What do you mean by that?"

He shakes his head. "The old ways have been long forgotten by most, but my grandfather taughtas a child. He remembered when the Lyean King stood for all shifters, not just wolves. Our duty was to pray for the day when the throne would once again bring equality to all shifters, both prey and predator."

My wolf, usually content to doze in the back of my mind, suddenly perks up with interest. We've never heard this particular interpretation of the O Lycam monarchy. Sure, there are traditional packs who hold to ancient customs, who view the Lycan King with greater reverence than others, but prey shifters with a devotion to the throne? That's unexpected. "What, is there skind of prophecy or something?" He blinks at me, a strange look crossing his face. "No, of course not. Just a belief we hold." Damn. It would have been cool if there was sancient prophecy floating around.

Still, it's interesting, though I can't really imagine my blockheaded alpha being the one to bring equality to the world.