Page 17 of Season's Greetings
The Pack Council had dismissed Keiran decades ago for “heresy”—because he believed forgotten rituals still held weight. He now hunted buried lore, teaching underground workshops on bond origin and ancestral law.
“Sorry I’m late. Hope I didn’t miss anything?” Keiran asked, smiled faintly, his white-knuckled hand tightly clutching his bag.
Claudia most certainly wasn’t smiling.
“Thank you so much for coming,” Daniel said, relief almost palpable.
But he seemed to be in the minority.
“…and who exactly are you?” Claudia demanded, her scowl twisting red-painted lips. “I think some introductions are in order, don’t you?”
One look at Matthew made Daniel change his mind about letting her stew.
His mate’s shoulders were drawn up close to his ears, his eyes glazed and distant.
“This is the venerable lorekeeper and historian Keiran Holt.”
“Formerlorekeeper. Didn’t the Council fire you? Why are you even here?”
Jeez, she really was a shrew.
How his mate had stood her for so long was beyond him. Just looking at her resting bitch-face was enough to turn his stomach sour.
The words were on the tip of Daniel’s tongue when Matthew leaped to his feet, chest heaving, eyes locked on his ex-wife.
“You don’t get to speak for me anymore,” he said, voice low but steady. “You don’t get to decide who matters or who doesn’t. You lost that right the moment you tried to rewrite our son’s history.”
Claudia’s eyes narrowed, lips curling into a sneer. “I did what was best for our future. For Toby’s future.”
“No,” Matthew snapped. “You did what was best foryou. You used me. You used our son. And now you want to erase the truth because it doesn’t fit your narrative.”
Daniel moved to stand beside his mate, his presence a silent show of support. The room held its breath.
Keiran stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. “The Hollow Moon Rite is not a myth. It is not folklore. It is law—older than the Council, older than any pack charter. And it was completed.”
Claudia scoffed. “You expect me to believe that some backwoods ritual holds legal weight?”
Keiran’s gaze sharpened. “I don’t expect you to believe anything. But the bond mark.”
“You’re pathetic. Grasping at straws.” Claudia’s voice was venomous. “Really, I don’t know what I ever saw in you. But you won’t keep me from what’s mine. The contract you signed says that ‘any child born under the marriage bond is the property of the alpha.’ That would be me. No other agreement takes precedence.”
The stone-hard look in her eyes could’ve rivaled Medusa.
“Apologies, if I may interrupt for one moment,” Keiran said, his quiet voice deflecting Claudia’s ire in his direction. “That’s not strictly true. The old rites do indeed override any other contract.”
“That’s impossible…” she spat, leaning closer to the lorekeeper.
Claudia’s attempt at intimidation had little effect on the avian shifter. He merely twitched, acting as if her words were water off a duck’s back. Here, they literally were.
“You called into question the Hollow Moon Rite. I was its final witness before they shelved it. And I believe Mr. Sanders and Mr. Hamilton performed it.”
For a split second, Daniel wondered how Claudia could turn that shade of red without steam coming from her ears.
The alpha-vixen took a deep breath and fired another verbal volley.
“Nobody has recognized that ceremony in over two decades! It’s obsolete. Irrelevant. There are no records or officiants, so this sham bond is invalid.”
Unperturbed, Keiran held up a finger, asking for a moment, then began rummaging through his decrepit-looking leather satchel.
