“According to the court, he is.”
“But I like the sound of ours better.”
“Well.” Her voice went low and quiet. “So do I.”
The car slowed and pulled into a small, bare-ground parking area. It was full except for the section reserved for Rule’s vehicle. Two men waited there, dressed in the preferred lupus style—jeans, no shirt. Cullen kept the motor running while Alex got out and spoke briefly to the men, then motioned for Cullen to park.
“More guards?” Lily said, eyebrows lifting. “I thought you were safe.”
“I am. No lupus, Leidolf or otherwise, would attack a Rho—and for tonight, I stand in place of a Rho—at a gens compleo. ” Rule waited for Alex to open his door. “It would be deeply insulting if I appeared without guards, however.”
Cullen opened Lily’s door and bowed—overdoing it, of course. Alex opened Rule’s door without flourishes.
“The guards are ceremonial, then?” Lily asked when he joined her. “A way of marking the importance of the ceremony?”
“In part. More, though, to appear without them would be like saying I didn’t think any of them could pose a threat.”
“But they aren’t a threat. You just said they wouldn’t attack.”
“There’s a difference between wouldn’t and couldn’t. The presence of guards acknowledges that they could.”
“Lupus psychology,” she muttered. “Is there any part of it that isn’t based on who can beat up who?”
Cullen grinned. “There’s also sex. Can’t leave that out.”
Lily rolled her eyes.
Silent for the moment, they walked along the path to the picnic spot—Alex in front, then Rule with Lily, followed first by Cullen, then by the two guards. The air was warm, silky, rich with scent. In Rule’s gut the mantles coiled and stirred, awake to the possibilities of the night.
Rule was amused by the relationship that had developed between his nadia and his closest friend. From the first, Lily had opted to treat Cullen like a younger brother—annoying, uncouth, but hers to put up with. That was funny for so many reasons, not least that Cullen was over thirty years older than Lily.
The role had amused Cullen, too, at first, but Rule suspected he’d grown to cherish it far more than he’d admit. Now it was habit, one they both enjoyed.
Sometimes Rule wondered how conscious Lily’s initial choice to make a brother of Cullen had been. Did she know she’d done it to guard herself from Cullen’s potent sexuality? She would have believed it terribly wrong to sleep with Rule’s friend, or even to lust after him.
And now . . . and now, Rule was uneasily aware, he felt the same way. It would tear something in him if she were to be with another man.
Jealousy was a monster that destroyed the joy men and women could make together. He knew that, and yet . . . Lily was his mate. He was incapable of being with another woman; perhaps it wasn’t so terrible to want to be the only one she lay with.
Lily spoke, her voice thoughtful. “Rule, you can tell what clan a lupus belongs to by smell.”
“That’s right. It’s subtle, but unmistakable.”
“So which clan do you smell like?”
Must she push about this every moment? “Nokolai.”
“Mostly,” Cullen said.
“Mostly?” Astonished, Rule turned to stare at his friend.
Cullen shrugged. “Lately there’s a whiff of Leidolf, too. There wasn’t at first, but there is now. Interesting, isn’t it?”
“You didn’t know?” Alex asked softly.
Rule had himself back under control. He turned around. “No.” One didn’t smell oneself, after all. Nor had he been through the blooding ceremony by which a lupus was adopted into another clan.
Nor, dammit, had anyone told him. “You smell it, too?”
Alex nodded.
He considered a moment, then said, “Good. I won’t smell entirely strange to the youths I bring into the mantle.”
Alex’s smile was small and brief, but Rule felt he’d passed some test. How annoying. He didn’t care for tests—or for having everyone else be aware of something as basic as a change in his scent. Why hadn’t they told him?
Lily leaned closer to whisper, “Pissed about me being right, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” After a moment he added, “More that I didn’t guess. Cullen smells like Nokolai now, after all. It should have occurred to me. But you can’t smell the difference.”
“No, of course not.”
Yet she’d guessed. He couldn’t decide how he felt about that. He knew how he felt about no one telling him, though. Annoyed.
He’d been hearing the crowd ahead for some time—laughter, talk, a couple of violins that couldn’t settle on a song to share. Apparently it was loud enough now for Lily’s ears, too, for she said, “Sounds like everyone’s excited.”
Her words and voice were matter-of-fact. He wasn’t sure how he knew she was tense, but he did, and took her hand. “They’ll welcome you,” he said gently.
“I don’t see why they should. I’m not Leidolf, and I’m the reason they couldn’t hold their ceremony at their clanhome.”
Unexpectedly, Alex stopped and looked at her. “No! This—this alteration is not because of you, but because the Lady wished it so. They understand that. You’re a Chosen. It doesn’t matter what clan . . . Well, it doesn’t matter greatly. A Chosen must be welcome, just as a Rhej would be.”
For Alex, that was a long speech.
Lily blinked once—a slow blink, a cat’s acknowledgment. “Thank you for telling me that, Alex.”
Alex nodded, turned, and resumed walking. A few moments later they reached the clearing.
There were coolers scattered around the perimeter, and lanterns—the old-fashioned kind, burning lamp oil. The scents were rich, from that of the burning oil to that of the people, perhaps thirty of them, young and old, male and female. Everyone was two-footed still. No children. Children attended most ceremonies, but not the gens compleo, which marked the turning from child to adult. Almost everyone wore jeans or cutoffs, the men without shirts.
The two notable exceptions were young, male, and naked.
Rule waited. Lantern light flickered on smiling faces that, a few at a time, turned toward him. As they saw him, they fell silent.
He touched Lily’s arm and nodded at the nearest cluster of people. She nodded and moved away.
When everyone was still, Rule walked alone to the fire pit in the center of the clearing, where neatly stacked logs waited. Quite a large pile, he noted, holding his face appropriately stern. They were taking advantage of having a sorcerer here to handle the ardor iunctio.
He nodded at Alex and Cullen. They moved to their positions—Alex at his right hand, Cullen at his left. The two guards took up positions at his back.
Rule took a deep breath—and called up the newer mantle.
They both came, a rush of power fizzing in his blood, flooding his muscles. He’d expected that. He took a second breath and carefully tucked the Nokolai mantle back down. It didn’t want to go, but slowly he eased it into its coil in his belly.
And spoke. “Leidolf!”
Voices answered, not in unison: “We listen!” mingled with the more formal, “Nos audio!”
“We are here to admit two of ours into Leidolf as adults. I call the gens compleo.” He paused while they cheered. “David Alan Auckley. Jeffrey Merrick Lane. Come forward.”
Two naked, healthy young men stepped out of the crowd. One was typical Leidolf—very northern European with pale skin and wheat blond hair, a lean young animal proud of his body and his place tonight. The other was ruddier, burlier, with longish brown hair and a gleam in his eyes that suggested he took very little seriously.