Chapter 156

Charles

The night air had a chill as George and I exited the jet and got into the car, headed back to the Mooncrest pack house. It was late enough. I knew Cecil would be in bed. There was a chance Grace would be too. I sighed, rubbing my clean-shaven face with a sigh.

"Missing your beard already?" George asked.

"Something like that," I sighed. "Mostly just missing some peace. Would it be too much to ask to get a lull?"

He snorted. "With your plan? You'll be lucky to catch a bit of sleep."

He was probably right. The journey from the Werewolf State's Capital had been a calm one, even as George and I fleshed out the rest of this plan and made calls to get all the information I could manage.

It was unsettling to be plotting against Grace and Astarte for both of their sakes, but Mooncrest's fate hung in the balance, and it wouldn't be the first time I had to plot to get someone out of their own way. Still, the weight of the impending challenges pressed on my mind.

I'd have to tell Grace the truth one day, and I had a feeling it would be ugly no matter how I eased her into it.

I pushed that thought away and focused on the sight of the Mooncrest pack house as the car came to a stop. I climbed out of the car and caught myself reaching for my belt, though I was no longer wearing my sword.

"You missed being king." George patted my shoulder. "I'm sure you can come up with some official-sounding reason to walk around Mooncrest in full gear."

I snorted, and we headed inside. As we entered the pack house and headed towards the kitchen, I heard another presence in the house. Margaret wasn't back, probably out with Seraphina causing some fun trouble in Mooncrest, yet the other presence felt familiar.

We entered the dining room, and the scene caught me off guard. Grace sat at the table, surrounded by a fortress of books on Werewolf State Laws. Eason was on the other side of the table with his own fortress of books, a magical quill in his hand. He didn't even look up.

"Welcome back." I turned to look at Esme Brighthollow, grinning at me. She winked at me.

Play it cool, Your Majesty. They don't know.

I didn't expect them to, but a smirk tugged at the corner of my lips as her message washed over me. Asher had sent his wife a move both unexpected and brilliant. The thought of Esme Brighthollow taking on the Inter-Pack Unit was amusing, considering her reputation for being utterly vicious, but I knew that wasn't the only motivation.

Esme was also Eason and Grace's grandmother, if I was right about who Grace and Eason's mother was. I was glad that at least with Esme here, there was a damn good chance that Asher might find it in him to sleep easy.

I approached the table, casting a glance at the array of legal tomes. "Looks like I've walked into a war room," I remarked, eyeing the serious expressions on their faces.

Grace looked up, exhaustion etched across her features. Her eyes brightened, but she still looked like she'd rather be doing anything else.

"Charles, you're back."

"Seems like I came back just in time for the strategy meeting," I replied, pulling out a chair and joining the gathering. "Mind if we join?"

"Please," Grace asked with a withering sigh.

I glanced at Eason, but he hadn't looked up. His hand moved quickly, easily with smooth gliding strokes. It was impressive and told me more about what he'd been doing in Selene while he was there. I glanced at Esme, who looked pleased, proud, and a little amused.

The atmosphere in the room shifted as George and I took our seats at the table, joining the impromptu council of war. Grace's tired eyes held a mix of relief and concern as she filled me in on the events that had transpired in my absence.

"What's the game plan?" I asked. "And... what are you reading?"

"I realized that she doesn't have a functioning understanding of law, so this is the crash course," Esme said sweetly. "I've spelled her to only leave for breaks until she gets through at least two books tonight."

I let out a low whistle. "A harsh taskmaster. How far are you?"

Grace flushed. "I'm making it through."

I chuckled as she leaned on her hand. "A bit less comfortable than science, hm?"

Grace huffed. "Way more boring."

Esme shrugged. "I didn't write it."

George narrowed his eyes, scanning the books beside Eason. It hadn't even seemed that he'd noticed that we'd arrived.

"He's in a trance," Esme said, smiling. "I didn't have to do it."

I smiled. "Magic lessons?"

Esme nodded. "Given what I can guess and what I've been told about the Blood Moon Incident, I thought it would be useful."

Grace sighed, frowning down at a page. "How'd your meeting go with the President?"

I smirked. "Well, I'm pretty sure I pissed him off. Sorry."

Grace looked at me, frowning. "What?"

I hummed. "It went as well as expected. But I think it might have triggered Sean's attempt to strike back. Petty bastard--"

"Your hair..." She blinked at me. "It's... longer."

I smiled. "Did you expect me to go there in a suit?"

"Well... yes."

"Never in a million years," I said. I held out my hand. "Is that the subpoena there?"

She nodded and handed it over. She had another copy beside her that looked like it was being notated. I glanced over the list of charges and frowned. Tilting my head, I let my gaze drift up to Esme. Her finger was pressed to her lips, curved with a sly smile. I nodded imperceptibly, acknowledging the secret as Grace let out a little grunt of frustration. I smiled, looking over at George, who was looking through a few texts.

"What do you need from me before I shower and start making food?"

She looked up at me, eyes gleaming with hunger.

"Dinner duty, got it," I said and kissed her temple as I stood.

I left the room, stretching a bit and heading upstairs. I showered quickly, considering what to do next. Esme's presence was helpful, nice even. I'd have to talk to her about the Choosing as well and maybe get her thoughts in some roundabout way about Astarte. I tied up my hair and slipped into some loungewear before heading back downstairs.

Then, I heard Eason's voice for the first time since I'd arrived.

"Please," his voice was low and sultry. I could almost hear the magic in it.

So that's what George meant by him being a whirlwind.

I leaned around the corner and found George up against the wall with Eason leaning into his space, hands on his chest with the most wicked look on his face. Eason's eyes sparkled. George looked like a starving man.

"Nothing to bargain with? I'm out of the cast..." He purred, biting his lip. "Three hours?"

"You've been in a trance for how long?"

"Esme said it was fine," he pouted. "Please? It would make things easier... I could go to bed earlier.Wecould go to bed earlier."

I cleared my throat. Eason barely spared me a glance and a wicked smile.

"Your Majesty, can't you convince him?"

George scoffed and pushed Eason back. "You need a supervisor."

Eason pouted.

"I'll keep an eye on him," Esme said, coming down the hallway. She pinched Eason's cheek fondly. "This little baby witch-wolf is already trouble."

George laughed and turned toward me, heading back towards the stairs. I wiggled my eyebrows at him, and he scoffed as he passed. He came back down soon after with the laptop and handed it over. Eason lifted up on his toes and stole a kiss before skipping back to the table.

I headed to the kitchen after patting George on the shoulder in sympathy. Esme laughed and pulled him aside as I headed to the kitchen.

I pulled out the pork tenderloin and all the ingredients I needed. I found myself relaxing as I started to mix spices and ingredients.

George shuffled into the kitchen and sank onto a barstool, leaning on his hand.

"So how often does that happen?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Lady Brighthollow says I should expect it to happen more frequently now that he's... healed."

I let out a low whistle. "The interest of a witch is hard to shake. When is Ethan getting released?"

"Soon, I fucking hope," he pushed a hand through his hair. "Let them... rekindle or whatever."

I sharpened a knife regarding him. "You think he won't keep you, too?"

He flushed. "Shut up."

"Ethan not your type?"

He scowled. "Charles."

I started chopping vegetables and humming. "So we should get you a bigger bed back at the palace."

"Shut up--"

My phone chimed in my pocket. I frowned, looking at my pocket, wondering who it could be.