Chapter 43

The grand council chamber of Swift River Pack impressed even by traditional standards. Ancient tapestries depicting territorial wars hung from stone walls worn smooth by centuries of use. Ceremonial weapons lined the entrance, silent reminders of alliances forged in both peace and battle.

Formal negotiations began with elaborate rituals—sacred herbs burned at the four corners, ancestral names invoked for wisdom, witnesses called from both packs. I took my place as Luna, though Raymond had positioned Giana unnecessarily close to him, where she whispered constant comments in his ear.

Elder Walsh circled the perimeter with smoldering sage, chanting invocations in the ancient language. "We call upon those who walked before, whose blood nourishes the land we defend, whose wisdom guides our paths."

When the rituals concluded, Alpha Dominic's deep voice filled the chamber. "Swift River extends formal greetings to Blood Moon Pack. May our deliberations honor our ancestors and serve our descendants."

"Blood Moon returns the honor," Raymond replied with appropriate formality, though his attention kept drifting to Giana beside him.

Maps were unrolled across the ceremonial table, their edges weighted with stones gathered from both territories' sacred rivers. The detailed parchments showed boundary lines, hunting grounds, and ceremonial sites accumulated over generations of careful documentation.

"Swift River proposes the restoration of traditional boundary markers along the eastern ridge," Alpha Dominic stated, indicating the area on an intricately drawn map. "Recent adjustments have created... confusion regarding territorial claims."

Raymond tensed, clearly recognizing the reference to Giana's unauthorized boundary changes. "Those adjustments were diplomatic initiatives approved by—"

"Perhaps we should examine the historical context," Luna Elena interjected smoothly, her perfectly timed interruption preventing what could have become a diplomatic incident. "The eastern ridge has significant ceremonial importance to both packs."

She extended one elegant finger to trace the original boundary line. "For seventeen generations, the Moonlight Falls have marked the sacred meeting point between our territories. The spring hunt has begun from this location since the time of our founding Alphas."

Raymond hesitated, clearly conflicted about contradicting his mother publicly. When he remained silent, she continued with diplomatic precision, guiding the conversation toward compromise while preserving our pack's interests.

"A return to traditional markers would honor our shared history," she suggested, "while perhaps expanding mutual hunting privileges during the autumn season."

Alpha Dominic nodded approval. "A wise suggestion that honors both tradition and practical needs."

With each successful redirection, Giana's agitation grew more pronounced. Her fingers drummed against her thigh, her whispers to Raymond more urgent as traditional boundaries were systematically restored in the proposed treaty. The subtle shifts in the maps would effectively undo all her unauthorized changes, returning territory she had ceded to its proper place.

"If we could take a brief refreshment break," she suggested suddenly, her voice strained. "The discussions are quite... intense."

Alpha Dominic agreed with gracious hospitality. "Of course. We have prepared refreshments in the adjacent chamber."

The moment the council chamber cleared, Giana slipped away, muttering something about needing fresh air. Instinct told me to follow.

I maintained a careful distance, watching as she moved with surprising purpose toward the compound's edge. Near an ancient oak, a hooded figure awaited—the same one I'd glimpsed before. Though partially concealed by shadows, I could make out a tall, muscular form that moved with predatory grace.

"The negotiations are undermining everything," Giana hissed, her voice carrying on the still air. "They're restoring all the boundary markers."

The hooded figure passed her a small package wrapped in dark cloth. "Patience. Wait for the signal as planned."

"The modifications require specific artifacts," Giana replied, tucking the package into her tunic. "Without them, the bond won't—"

"You'll have what you need," the figure cut her off sharply. "Focus on your role. The timing must be precise."

"And what about her?" Giana asked, clearly referring to me.

"Her elimination remains a priority, but not yet. Timing is essential."

I leaned closer, straining to hear more, when a Swift River guard rounded the corner on patrol. I ducked quickly behind a storage shed, heart pounding as the guard passed merely feet from my hiding place.

"Is someone there?" the guard called, hand moving to his weapon.

I remained perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe until he continued his patrol, disappearing around the corner of the main building.

When I finally managed to return to the council chamber, negotiations had resumed. I slipped quietly into my seat, noting Giana's calculated smile as she watched me.

Did she know I'd followed her? The subtle triumph in her expression suggested she might.

---

The evening feast featured Swift River's traditional cuisine—dishes requiring specific etiquette to consume properly.

Each course came with its own ceremonial utensil, precise gestures, and ritual words of gratitude. Where I navigated the complex requirements with practiced ease, Giana struggled visibly, at one point drinking from a bowl meant for ritual washing.

"Elder Walsh," I said, carefully drawing attention away from Giana's faux pas, "the river fish is particularly excellent this season."

The elder nodded, understanding my diplomatic intervention. "The runs have been strong. Luna Aurora, perhaps you might explain to the younger members the significance of the sacred fish in our alliance history?"

I launched into the traditional tale, giving Giana time to recover from her embarrassment.

"Delta Giana's diplomatic insights have been invaluable," Raymond announced loudly when I finished, though she had contributed nothing of substance. "Her fresh perspective challenges outdated thinking."

Alpha Dominic's expression remained neutral as he deliberately turned to me. "Luna Aurora, perhaps you could explain the significance of the Moonstone Treaty and its relevance to our current negotiations?"

The question required comprehensive knowledge of ancient pack agreements. I responded with detailed precision, citing historical precedents and traditional interpretations. Swift River council members nodded approvingly, clearly impressed.

"Your Luna's mastery of diplomatic history is exceptional," Alpha Dominic observed to Raymond, whose expression tightened at the pointed compliment.

Later, Raymond cornered me in an empty corridor, his anger barely contained. "You deliberately embarrassed Giana at dinner."

"By answering questions directed to me?" I countered.

"You know she hasn't had your advantages," he snapped. "You could have deflected, included her in the response."

"She claims expertise in diplomacy while making no effort to learn our most basic protocols," I replied, my patience finally fracturing. "If she wants to play Luna, she should at least attempt to master the fundamentals."

"Must you always be so perfect?" Raymond snarled, his voice rising. "So rigid in your precious traditions?"

Our voices rose as the argument intensified, drawing attention from passing pack members who paused to observe the unprecedented confrontation between Alpha and Luna.

"You claim to support the pack while undermining the one person trying to bring progress!" Raymond's voice echoed off the stone walls.

"Progress? Is that what you call systematic destruction of alliances and boundaries?"

Alpha Marcus's voice cut through our argument. "Enough."

We both turned to find him leaning heavily against the wall, his complexion alarmingly pale, hand trembling visibly as he attempted to steady himself.

"Father?" Raymond's anger instantly transformed to concern. "Are you alright?"

Marcus straightened with obvious effort. "Merely tired from the journey. Nothing more."

But as he turned to leave, I noticed him gripping the wall for support, his hand shaking with an intensity that couldn't be explained by simple fatigue. Something was seriously wrong with Alpha Marcus—and I was increasingly certain it was no natural illness.