Page 58 of Claws and Effect

The remainder of the evening passed in comfortable conversation with Seren regaling them with stories from the Summit social scene and Zyle discussing conservation projects that piqued the king’s interest. By the time they said their good-byes, midnight approached, and the earlier tension had dissipated into a warm glow of familial connection.

“Come again soon,” Queen Juliette insisted, embracing Laykin tightly. “And bring this young man before he forgets what his future mother-in-law looks like.”

“Mother,” Laykin protested, but couldn’t suppress her smile at the implication.

“You’ve made quite an impression,” she told Zyle as their car pulled away from the palace gates, security detail following at a discreet distance. “My father doesn’t discuss forestry initiatives with just anyone.”

“I liked them,” Zyle admitted, surprising her with his candor. “Your mother reminds me of mine—that same core of steel beneath the social graces.”

The comparison warmed her heart in unexpected ways. Their families, once separate dynasties, were beginning to intertwine in more than just political alliance.

“Your uncle seems unusually focused on security aspects,” Zyle observed as their car wound down the mountain road, darkness swallowing the valley below. “Not cultural, social, or financial worries—specifically how the covenant affects defensive capabilities and intelligence sharing.”

Laykin nodded, relieved to voice her suspicions aloud. “He’s always been paranoid about security, but you’re right—tonight felt different. More... tactical in his objections.”

“And that interaction with the guard?” Zyle prompted, his gaze steady on her face.

“Could be nothing,” Laykin admitted, staring out at the shadowed landscape. “Marcello loves to throw his weight around with the staff. But combined with everything else...”

“We’ll have Holden investigate the guard,” Zyle decided, pulling out his phone to text his security chief. “And increase security for the council meeting.”

The dashboard clock read nearly midnight—far too late for strategic planning, yet Laykin’s mind raced through possibilities, each more troubling than the last. The warmth of the evening with her family gave way to cold reality as they discussed the potential threat lurking beneath Marcello’s opposition.

The lights of Zyle’s estate appeared in the distance, a welcome sight after the long drive and longer evening. The security gate opened automatically as they approached, closing silently behind them once the entire convoy had entered. The sense of stepping into a fortress should have been oppressive, but instead, Laykin felt herself relaxing. This had become home with surprising speed.

“Holden will be waiting for an update,” Zyle said as they entered the main house. “Do you want to join the briefing, or would you prefer to get some rest?”

“As if I could sleep with this hanging over us,” she replied, following him toward his study. Rest could wait. The safety of their prides couldn’t.

FORTY-SIX

In the quiet sanctuary of their bedroom an hour later, Laykin paced while Zyle coordinated additional security measures for the upcoming council session. Even in midnight blue pajama pants, barefoot with tousled hair, he emanated authority as he spoke quietly into his phone.

The briefing with Holden had been productive but concerning—background checks on palace staff had revealed three recent hires with questionable connections, including the guard Marcello had spoken to.

“I’ve been thinking,” Zyle said when he ended his call. “What if the formal covenant isn’t the actual target?”

Laykin stopped pacing, turning to face him. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve been assuming that whoever’s behind the attacks wants to prevent the alliance between our prides. But what if that’s not the end goal?” He ran a hand through his hair, his expression thoughtful. “What if stopping the agreement is just a means to something else?”

“Like what?” She moved closer, intrigued by the direction of his thoughts.

“What if the goal isn’t to keep the prides separate, but to keep them vulnerable?” Zyle’s eyes met hers, intense and focused. “Divided, each pride is strong but has vulnerabilities. Together, those weaknesses are covered by the other’s strengths. If someone wanted to target either pride—or both—they’d have a much harder time after the treaty is implemented.”

Laykin’s steps faltered as the implications crystallized. “So you think this isn’t about opposing the joining. It’s about keeping a window of opportunity open.”

“Exactly.” Zyle nodded. “And your uncle’s focus on the security protocols specifically is what concerns me most. He’s not arguing about other interests—he’s fixated on how our prides will share intelligence and defensive resources.”

A chill ran down Laykin’s spine as pieces began aligning in a disturbing new pattern. “An opportunity for what, though?” she asked softly.

“I don’t know,” Zyle admitted. “But whatever it is, the combined security protocols would make it much more difficult.”

“You think Marcello is involved in the attacks?” The words hurt to say aloud. Despite his difficult personality, Marcello was family.

Zyle stood, crossing the room to take her hands in his. “I think his opposition isn’t just his usual pain-in-the-ass self, Laykin. There’s something more calculated happening here. His warning about ‘interested parties’ suggests he’s either involved or knows who is.”

Zyle’s thumbs traced gentle circles on the backs of her hands. “The covenant needs to be signed as soon as possible.”

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