"I know you just got here and haven't really seen them, but I find something curious about the Silvers as a whole," Enzo contemplated.
"Such as?"
"They are all of a similar age—all unmarried and without children, none of them knowing who they were until recently. What changed that made these women appear in the crystal of our Elders before their hair went silver? And why did the witches give them to us so easily? Enola claims she gave them something precious… But it just seems like we are missing information," he said. “Plus, they are all females, just like the Elders. In that, I believe the goddessisat work, but if I know the Elders, then they know more than they let on.”
Ronan could not deny the oddness of it all. "It seems that hidden truths surround these Silvers."
Enzo continued with his sobering tone. "Do you truly think that the Silvers are holy? I am inclined to think so, but I also… I don’t know. Like I said, theyseemholy…”
Ronan deeply inhaled through his nose, languidly looking around as the heavy subject weighed on his mind. His ears kept twitching at the wavering sounds around him. Their world was so alive and full of hope, and yet something sour rooted in his gut, something he couldn’t quite put a finger on.
"I think the goddess is real,” Ronan began. “And that the Elders are holy. They clearly have magic in their souls. However, I also think that people misinterpret the stars to benefit their own gain. Then again, the Elders that I trust believe that these Silvers are special. So, I don’t actually know what to think.”
“Sounds like we are in the same boat, my friend. I suppose we have to journey more before we can see the shore.”
Ronan eased the tension in his muscles at the familiar sentiment. The only thing he enjoyed about being here, so far, was being near others like Enzo. The adjacent Alpha was one of the few shifter-wolves that Ronan considered an honest friend, understanding each other’s position in ways many could not.
Enzo took a drink from his chalice, sucking his bottom lip to upper teeth before continuing, "I've also been wondering, Ronan, about you and your pack. How are they handling the Silver scenario? Whoever you choose, she’ll have been born a human. Certainly, that does not settle well with some,” he looked at Ronan with a curious expression, “even if sheisa Silver. The last human-turned-shifter Luna ended horrifically.”
Ronan raised an unamused brow and said, "Some of my wolves, understandably, do not like this. In the end, it’s just useless chatter. They can get used to it."
"Perhaps the pack will grow to like who you choose."
"She will still be a human. She may never fully adjust, no matter how long she lives here. I suppose I have to deal with that, as I doubtanyof the Silvers are ready for this."
Images of Rem back when she was injured and sitting on the forest floor, listlessly staring off with blood all over her face, made him clench his jaw. He regretted that she had to go through so much, so swiftly.
What else was there to do?
The hunters would abuse her in ways that boiled his blood just as much as Marcus’s presence did. And now that the witches knew the shifters wanted them, living among their villages was no longer an option.
When he first heard about the Silvers, he didn’t put much weight on the discovery—it would simply be what it would be. But what if they wanted to remain human? Was that even an option? The resources it would take to guard them would be endless… The least his kind could do is give those women their claws.
Enzo wiped his chin. "They’ll get used to us eventually, I suppose. It's not like living with the witches is a luxury. They keep it shitty for them on purpose."
Ronan swiped his tongue on the front of his teeth, leaning over slowly to put his weight on an elbow that rested on the table. “To be frank, I sometimes see reflection of the witches in our Elders. I think we let them control us too much.”
Enzo snickered, his voice lowering. “I wonder if it was always like this. Sometimes, I think a dynamic changed when we came out of the Exiles.”
It wasn't until after the paranormals came out of the Exiles that the Elders sprouted in power, and the more Ronan spoke to shifters who still remembered the Exiles, it seemed the Alpha used to hold that authority. Why did the Alphas have to bend to the Elder’s will? Those females used to exist as holy counsel, not for clout.
Ronan wasn't dull; he knew the answer was that they were pushing it. He knew they were gauging how far they could take it.
Perhaps it was time that he pushed back.
He glanced at the area set up for the sovereigns. He narrowed his eyes when he saw that there was an adjacent tent being set up.
"So, why did they take the Silvers a few hours ago?" Ronan asked.
He looked back to Enzo, whose dark eyes scanned the crowd. He had only let Rem go when he smelled the blood print of Enola on the paper requesting her. And, of course, he knew Lothar would be watching, even if it were to just keep her scent on his nose.
"They're doing something with them. I am not sure what. They didn't tell any of us, at least not that I know of."
Ronan's patience grew thinner. How were they not informed of this? He had, for a moment, thought to refuse the request. But this was all new. Did he claim Rem sooner than anticipated?
Did he want to?
Something instinctual burned in his chest, reminding him he was an Alpha of a large and capable pack. If he wanted to claim her, he had every right to. He only didn’t because of a shared alliance, and he seemed to owe them a proper conversation—at the bare minimum—before claiming anyone.
