Tempting Fate

Seventeen: Failures and Disrespect

"We are a laughingstock," Eoran said. His face had long since turned a mottled red.

Gavriel stood in the middle of the council room, arms behind his back, and simply absorbed it.

All of it.

"They do not fear you," Fay added in that steely way of hers. "That is our problem. We're not enough of a threat to keep those stench-filled weasels off our land."

After they had taken care of the two wielders who had crossed their border, Gavriel had all but flown west to help Thomas and Soren take care of the additional two wielders trying to sneak their way in.

Regardless of what their mission was, Soren and a reluctant Thomas had taken care of the wielders succinctly, leaving Gavriel not much more than scraps when he arrived.

They were barely breathing when he arrived, their guts ripped open by wolf claws. Gavriel had no one to interrogate.

He had hit yet another wall.

And he deserved every bit of what the elders dished out.

Failed. Again, and again, and again.

An invisible knife twisted in his chest. It ached more than the leg underneath him. When the wielder had thrown that boulder at him, he had taken major damage to his flank. Now, he was almost afraid to look at his hip and leg. No doubt there was a medley of bruises there.

And he deserved each of them. If not more.

"This would not have happened if it were Uriah," Eoran growled.

"Uriah is dead," Henri pointed out rather nonchalantly.

Gavriel wished Uriah was here. Maybe their previous leader would not have failed in the many ways Gavriel had.

"Let's not forget, Uriah could not prevent an attack either," Ries added. "As much as we respect him and Gavriel, these are circumstances that are new for all of us. This would have never happened twenty years ago."

"Twenty years ago, we were strong," Eoran growled. "They feared us. Now they think we are weak. Something to play with."

"Do they?" Sienna asked. Although asked in a soft voice, her simple question felt heavy. It took up the entire council room, pressing into those inside it. "Despite how it seems, we know this Reison character is functioning on his own." Sienna sat up straight in the armchair she usually commandeered at the end of the moon shaped table. "Gavriel has been to each quarterly meeting. The wielders, for the most part, want to work with us for peace just as much as we do them."

Sienna was often the voice of reason, the balance to Eoran's wolfish temper. Gavriel always appreciated her quiet strength, but never more so than in that moment.

Because Sienna was right. Other than the Governor, there had been no sign that the wielders outside of Reison's reach wanted anything other than peace with their neighbors.

Reison and the Governor were the threat. And if he wanted to make up for his continuous failures, then he needed to find them quickly, and enact such justice that no one else dared test their strength again.

Gavriel shifted his weight and hid his wince as the slight movement sent a flare of pain down his legs.

"So?"

Gavriel's gaze locked back on Eoran. The man's long white hair had escaped from the tie at the back of his neck as he argued and raged.

Eoran stared at him expectantly. The expression was filled with such disrespect it had his leopard wanting to sink his claws into the man's torso.