325 I Refuse To Let It Happen A Third Time

By the time the ink dried on the refugee decree, Ann felt lighter than she had in weeks. It wasn't victory...nothing about the border felt like victory...but it was something tangible she could point the nobles to that wasn't just a speech or a promise.

Runners had already left with writs authorizing expanded patrol coverage and guaranteed rations. The kitchens were scrambling to accommodate the refugees that had slowly begun pouring in and the poor wolf in charge of logistics was muttering frantically to himself about inventory.

Coral had three clipboards balanced precariously on her arm and an expression that said she would throttle any person, noble or not, who tried to "advise" her. It was care that looked like chaos, and Ann loved it..

"Look at you," Maeve purred. "Already poking the hornet's nest."

"It's past breakfast," Ann murmured, smoothing her palm over the gentle curve of her belly as the pups shifted. "And I'm late."

"For what?" Maeve asked.

"The elders," Ann sighed.

"Oh, joy," Maeve deadpanned. "Can I bite one if they talk too long?"

Adam fell into step with her as she left the study. He'd changed into something that split the difference between ceremonial and practical and settled with a dark jacket with the royal pin at the collar and dark combat boots that said anyone who tried a surprise attack would go home limping. He offered his arm and she took it without a second thought.

"They're waiting," he said. "And wearing the robes."

"Yeah, I figured they would," Ann replied flatly, "They're such sticklers for tradition even when they're away from the Enclave."

"They insisted on using the oak hall," he added with a grimace, "They were adamant that they didn't want to use the council chamber because they said it smells like politics in there."

"That's because it's where politics happens," Ann said dryly.

"That's exactly what I said," Adam muttered.

They crossed the inner courtyard. Refugees clustered beneath awnings thrown up in record time and nurses moved efficiently from cot to cot. A boy no older than ten gripped a wooden bowl in both hands like it was treasure and Ann's throat tightened. She slowed, squeezed Adam's arm, and kept walking only because stopping meant that she would never make it to the elders at all.

"You did good," Maeve said, "Now go argue with the ornamental owls to make yourself feel a little better."

The oak hall lived up to its name.

Dark beams arched over the long table at the center that had been carved from a single trunk and the air in here smelled faintly of beeswax. The elders were already assembled around the table...eight of them today wearing robes in deep jewel tones with sleeves edged in embroidery so intricate Ann had to stop herself from leaning in to count the threads.

A few of them had also clearly been taking Corals advice on modernising and also carried slim tablets.

"Your Majesty," Elder Harrow intoned, rising first. He was tall, with a hawk's profile and a voice that could probably slice the bark off a tree. "Alpha."

"Thank you for meeting with us," Ann replied, taking the chair at the head of the table. Adam stood at her shoulder rather than sitting. He didn't say it, but everyone felt the statement, he was here to guard and protect, not to debate niceties.

Elder Sera smiled, a warmth that reached her eyes. Her iron-gray hair was braided like a crown.

"We heard the decree," she said. "Refugee protections enacted before noon. This is good progress."

"It was necessary," Elder Kaito said, drumming blunt fingers lightly against the table, "Peopple feed the ground with their blood, we can't solve this with speeches alone."

Elder Maren sniffed, the jewels at her ears winking.

"We also cannot throw coin at every problem until the palace pantry looks like a church potluck," she said. "Rumors travel faster than runners. If we feed everyone who wanders in with a sad story..."

Adam's growl was reflexive. Ann didn't look at him; she put a hand on the table, palm down.

"We didn't invite you to debate whether to feed starving families," she said, her voice even. "We invited you to discuss the dark witchcraft that accompanies the attacks across the borders and what we intend to do about it."

That pried the room's attention away from grain and toward the blade she'd set between them.

Elder Harrow lifted his chin.

"Oh yes, the same rumors that call every lightning strike a hex and every shadow a demon," he said dryly. "You'll forgive me if I've grown suspicious of fear as an informant."

"It's not rumor," Adam snapped. "We've got scorch patterns that don't match any standard accelerant, and bodies that don't bleed right. Ely and his hangers-on aren't using campfire tricks, they clearly still have access to whatever power that Eromaug granted them."

"Strong words from an Alpha who'd rather swing first and question later." Maren murmured.

"Oh, this is going well," Maeve drawled. "Can I bite a robe now?"

Ann took a deep breath before she spoke again.

"You all know why I asked for this meeting," she said. "Not just as your Queen, but as someone who has seen what happens when we underestimate what we don't want to believe. It happened with Narcissa, it happened with Eromaug, and I refuse to let it happen a third time."

Silence descended over the Elders as they watched her intently, knowing that she spoke the truth. They had missed a lot and let a lot slide over the years that her father was on the throne, and most were wracked with guilt.

Whether they would be able to begin to make amends now remained to be seen.