Chapter 3: Into Enemy Territory

The bustle of the Moonbane pack was overwhelming to Layla. The Moonbane insignia of a large waning crescent moon with the Moon Goddess standing fiercely in the middle was everywhere she looked. It felt like overkill. She couldn't even remember her father's pack's insignia.

Solomon confidently made his way through the crowds of people. He didn't seem to notice that the crowd was making way for him but Layla did. She nervously kept dropping his hand but Solomon was persistent and gently grabbed it every time she let go. She slowed her step and fell behind him so it looked like he was dragging her.

She felt the glare of a hundred enemy eyes piercing through her. Did they know who she was? Or what pack she belonged to? Could they tell she was Solomon's mate? Back in the woods she felt so safe in his presence but here in this place, she felt distressed.

Solomon, sensing her discomfort, turned his head and smiled at her. She felt a wave of calm energy flood over her. She smiled back at him and in that moment she realized, despite all her nerves, she felt the most at home looking into his deep brown eyes.

They stopped in front of the great hall, a building larger than she had ever seen. Solomon pushed open a large oak door with the Moonbane insignia carved in it. The carving was taller than she was. Hanging along the walls where large tapestries depicting various Moonbane victories and various animal pelts adorned the floor. Long mahogany tables searched the length of the hall leading to a monumental fireplace.

'I bet that never goes out,' she thought to herself as she followed Solomon. Finally she said, "where are we going?"

"Yes. Where are you going?" A rough baritone voice with a thick accent boomed behind them. Layla jumped as she dropped Solomon's hand. Solomon dropped his head and sighed as he turned towards the noise.

"Good morning, Father." The joy in Solomon's voice faded and was replaced with a serious tone.

Layla slowly turned towards Balthazar Riverwalker. He was shorter than she imagined. His hair was more grey than the black he shared with Solomon and thinning. If Layla tried to embrace him, she knew her fingers would not be able to touch. His legs were very muscular in spite of his round torso. He wore a black bear pelt around his shoulders like a cape with a leather tunic with, yet again, the Moonbane insignia underneath. He was regal and intimidating but there was a warmth in his eye of a father who took great pride in his child.

Layla wasn't sure what she should do. If she should speak, curtsy, or run for the hills. She didn't dare to look him in the eye but couldn't help but to dart her glances from father to son. The tension was thick and engulfed her.

"What are you doing, Solomon? And with who?" Balthazar walked towards them. His steps echoed throughout the hall sending shivers of fear down Layla's back.

Solomon grabbed Layla's hand and it felt clammy. Layla gave him a small smile, happy to discover that he was just as nervous as she was. He masked it well in his voice.

"I would like to introduce Layla Undertow," Solomon began. Balthazar scoffed but undeterred Solomon finished, "she is my mate."

Balthazar laughed with condescension, "I am going to stop you there, Solomon. I want your mother here for this." Balthazar clapped once and a small timid man jumped from the shadows. "Fetch me Saraiah at once," he snapped. The small man bowed and darted away.

He brushed past Layla and took a seat at the head of the table. He motioned for them to sit with him and reluctantly they did. Layla nervously began to rub her fingers in her lap under the table. She could feel Balthazar's intense gaze scan her over searching for fault.

"Father," Solomon began as he placed his hand over Layla's.

Balthazar laughed again and held up a finger. "No, not till your mother is here."

They sat in awkward silence for what felt to be an eternity. Solomon traced small circles with his thumb on the top of her hand while he stared his father down. Layla could hear his teeth grinding together and she very much wanted to place her hand on his jaw to comfort him but she was too frightened to do so. She instead linked her arm around his. He placed his hand on her knee.

Balthazar signaled for some wine. Another small man from the shadows brought him a large golden goblet. Layla wondered if these men were hiding all this time and how peculiar it was that they didn't make a sound when they entered.

"Solomon!" A raspy feminine voice shrieked as she beelined towards him. Solomon stood and embraced the woman. She was stunningly beautiful. Her facial features were more cat than wolf, pointed and sharp. Her black hair was extremely long and thick, she wore it in a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck. She wore a matching fur cape as her husband and a long black velvet dress. Around her neck lay a thick gold chain with a large Moonbane insignia charm, the crescent moon was a large diamond. "Who is this?" She spat as Layla caught her eye. Her accent was as thick as her husbands and it was difficult for Layla to understand them as they spoke.

"Saraiah, you will want to sit for this," Balthazar mockingly laughed. Saraiah sauntered to the opposite side of the table and sat across from Solomon. "Your son has something to tell us."

"Our son has not answered my question," she replied caustically.

Solomon sighed. "Mother, this is Layla Undertow."

Saraiah began to laugh viciously, Balthazar joined. Watching them laugh at her name, something within her snapped and Layla finally found the courage to speak. "Why is that so funny?" Immediately they both stopped.

Saraiah glared at her, "I know who you are, Layla Undertow." Her name sounded like a curse. "But why would a mutt like you be sitting at my table?"

Layla froze in anger, her blood boiling. "I was invited." She seethed through her teeth.

Solomon wrapped his arm around her shoulder. His mother's eyes widened and her jaw dropped open ever so slightly. "Do not refer to my mate as a mutt."

"Your mate?!" Saraiah shrieked dramatically. Balthazar's eyes lit with amusement at the sight of his wife distressed. "This is not funny, Solomon."

"I am not joking." He squeezed Layla's shoulder tenderly. "Layla is my mate." His father laughed again.

"You will not do this to me," Saraiah cried as she leaped from her chair. "I will not allow it." She began to pace around her chair.

"That is not how it works." Solomon rolled his eyes. "The Goddess-"

"No!" His mother interrupted. "You will not speak of the Goddess to me."

"But She did bless us," Layla said slowly, confused by Saraiah's theatrics.

"How dare you, a filthy Undertow, speak to me about the Goddess? I know about your father. I know of his blasphemy." Her words cut like knives into Layla.

"My father is not blasphemous. He does not practice anymore."

"Your father turned his back on the Goddess and She cursed him and your family. I have heard about your mother." The ounce of strength Layla felt disappeared the moment Saraiah mentioned her mother. Defeated, she dropped her head.

"Enough Mother," Solomon's voice was stern and his body was tense.

Balthazar's amused look melted off his face. He slammed his goblet down on the table. "You will not speak to your mother like that," he boomed.

Quickly Saraiah spoke in a language Layla had never heard. A conversation between the three Riverwalkers happened over her head that she had no understanding of. She could tell by the tone of all three speakers it was serious and absolutely about her.

"Layla is my mate." Solomon said defiantly. "I know what I felt. There is no doubt."

"Do you want me to die," Saraiah asked. "Because this is how I die!"

Solomon sighed and rolled his eyes. "I do not wish to kill you, Mother. But we all know what this process is. There is no control in who is mated to whom. The Goddess picks, the wolf responds."

"It was a full moon, too," Layla added.

"You wish me dead." Saraiah sat dramatically in her chair. She grabbed her husband's arm and threw her head back.

Balthazar patted his wife's hand. "This must have been your doing," he said towards Layla. "You must have seduced my son."

"I am twenty years old, Father. I am not a child."

Balthazar continued, ignoring Solomon. "What great benefit this is for you. Did your father put you up to this? Weak little man, couldn't have complied so he sent his whore daughter to snatch my pack?"

Solomon sprang up from his seat but Layla gently grabbed his arm. An icy coolness rushed over her and she said calmly, "no one put me up to anything. I do not wish to have your pack nor does my father. We do not need to steal what is not ours, to invade land we do not belong to. My father evaded your attack once."

"Your father lives because I do not care enough to kill him. Your pack of mutts are not worth the time it would take to slaughter them. You live because I allow you too."

"Father," Solomon began cautiously but Balthazar shook his head and held up his hand.

"I have had enough. You will reject her at once or I will reject you." Balthazar stood from his chair and held his hand out to Saraiah who was whimpering. "I will hear of this no more. Make your choice, Solomon." They walked out of the hall leaving Solomon and Layla too stunned to speak.