To say Frankie was upset when she heard Mark had made some sort of deal with the tree spirit would be a quaint understatement. Riordan marked her at quietly wroth and took faint relief in the fact that it wasn’t pointed at him for once.

“Mark just crossed the border back into our territory from the south. Hrr is watching him,” Frankie said, her frown growing as she focused on information invisible to the rest of their gathering. “Hrr says he is marked by the spirit. No, Marked.”

Riordan could hear the capitalization on that word. He glanced around at the three women standing with him in the workroom. None of them looked pleased. Riordan raised a brow. “Marked as what?”

“Shaman for a new territory, I assume,” Vera said with a sigh, tapping her fingers against her cellphone case thoughtfully.

“Mark’s not trained enough for that,” objected Lucinda.

“He is also more ambitious than that. My apprentice is not the tree’s shaman,” Frankie said with fond annoyance. “He is its Guardian.”

Lucinda looked startled at that declaration. Vera looked exasperated. Riordan mostly felt confused, though that declaration resonated with the impressions he’d gotten from the tree this morning.

“Since he is a Guardian, but not a spirit, Mark will not be able to do some tricks of a Guardian, but he will be able to mix it with the skills of a shaman,” Frankie continued. “That gives him some flexibility.”

Vera nodded, saying, “I expect that Riordan is the tree spirit’s shaman of choice?”

“Of course,” Frankie replied just as dryly.

“I didn’t ask for it!” Riordan objected. He didn’t like the way the two women were acting so disproving of the whole thing. He hadn’t asked for any of this. “I’m not apologizing for the damned tree liking me, because that’s saved my life, more than once.”

Vera waved a hand placatingly. “We know, Riordan. Emotions are simply high at the moment. Has Mark answered anyone’s phone calls?”

Riordan checked his phone again at the question, even as Lucinda and Frankie replied in negative. Lucinda continued, speaking with the air of a sibling despite not being blood related to Mark, “He’s probably avoiding answering so he can explain in person and get it all over with at once. He has to know we’re upset.”

Riordan listened to their conversation with half an ear. Quinn had texted him again.

Quinn: I hate to bother you, but is there any chance we could have a meeting this morning?

Quinn: By meeting, I mostly mean me begging for assistance in checking on the tree. It was doing something weird last night.

Shit. Had the agents noticed whatever Mark had done already? Riordan hadn’t noticed them planting anything near the tree itself for monitoring, but they had to have something near the cabin and the road leading in and possibly the area around the tree. It’s what he would have done with similar resources. Between an enchanter like De la Fuente and a surveillance agent like Ahlgren, they could probably whip up a pretty good system.

Still, there was no way of knowing what the agents had picked up on and currently, this was a pack issue. Riordan erred on the side of caution.

Riordan: What sort of weird and when?

Quinn texted back immediately, which did not bode well for this being a minor issue.

Quinn: Last evening, around 9-ish

Quinn: Xavier, Adam, and I were still at the compound when we felt the tree doing something in the basement

Quinn: Its roots reached the workroom. Physical roots, not just magical. Can’t access the room anymore

Quinn: It felt like it was absorbing magic from the room and air. All the extra death aligned magic that Xavier and I couldn’t pull out into jars is gone

Riordan: Isn’t that a good thing?

Quinn: Yes, but no

Quinn: Yes, we wanted the death energy concentration lowered

Quinn: No, we don’t want a greater spirit doing things on its own, getting stronger, and then possibly taking in that forbidden spell

Quinn: Assuming it was acting on its own

Quinn: You didn’t do that, did you?

Quinn: You’d tell me first, right?

Riordan: If I could, sure. You personally have been helpful. I didn’t ask the tree for anything last night and it seemed fine when I talked to it spiritually this morning.

Quinn’s news was interesting, but didn’t bother Riordan that much. The tree acting on its own no longer surprised Riordan, though he suspected that it was his influence that caused such behavior. A tree is content to wait and allow the world to happen around it, but this tree was no longer just a tree. It was also a… a gravekeeper? Riordan didn’t know what else to call it.

“Are you talking with Mark?”

Riordan glanced up from his phone, having half forgotten he was technically in a meeting with the shaman and leadership of the pack. Vera raised an eloquent brow at him.

He shrugged, unrepentant. “No. Quinn was texting me. It seems the tree was active around nine last night, absorbing some dangerous magic out of the compound area. It has him concerned.”

“You aren’t telling him about Mark, are you?” asked Lucinda.

Riordan straightened, giving her a flat look. “I might not officially be a member of this pack, but I am a shifter. Pack business stays in the pack unless the leaders say otherwise or it’s an emergency.”

“Hmm, I suppose so.” Lucinda’s words practically dripped with reluctance.

“You know what?” Riordan decided. “Fuck this. You guys can handle this. I’m personally glad Mark’s the Guardian for the tree. I hope he stands up for his choices.”

Before any of the women could stop him, Riordan marched out of the workroom and back outside. His phone vibrated with more messages, but he didn’t check them right away. He could hear Lucinda being angry behind him and Frankie telling her to leave him alone.

Once he was back in the shade of the woods, Riordan slumped, leaning against one of the tall pines. His skin stuck slightly on the sap that leaked out in places. Weird how trees both haunted and comforted him now. He hadn’t thought about them much one way or the other before this mess.

Riordan balanced on an edge. For the first time, he could imagine a future for himself that he wanted. Except people kept tossing up barriers randomly. He also wasn’t exiled any more but didn’t belong either. Sleeping Bear wouldn’t be his home. The root for trust was missing.

Without trust, he couldn’t grow properly here. Frankie did her best to teach him, but she had duties and priorities that weren’t Riordan and that would trump him every time. He’d leave, except that it was the pack’s protection that kept the Department from snapping him up on one charge or another, just ready to try turning him into a pawn.

Well, trying to turn him, anyway. Riordan gave his loyalty when he chose. He would not be forced. He checked his phone again.

Quinn: That’s sort of a relief, but it would have been nice to have a reason for it to act

Quinn: And I feel you about the others. I’m sorry about the politics

Quinn: I’ve had no choice but to get used to it. Adam’s pretty cool though, for a babysitter

Quinn: And then there’s Gloria and how she got out and all that implies

Quinn: I’m worried

Quinn: Are you there? Am I talking too much?

Quinn: Oh yeah, definitely talking too much.

Riordan smiled. Quinn rambled in text just as much as out loud. It was strangely reassuring. He breathed deeply of the smell of forest and sun-warmed grass. He wished he could just spend the day badgered up and dig himself a burrow. It was that sort of day and he hadn’t even been up an hour yet.

He thought for a moment before sending off a text to Quinn.

Riordan: You’re fine. I won’t be taking people to the tree. Can’t be sure who to trust. Even you might have something stuck to you if you’ve got a spy. I’m busy today anyway. Pack stuff. But the tree is fine and has no plans to take over or anything.

He hoped that would suffice for explanation. The more he dealt with people, the less he liked it, even if he liked the people in question. Riordan felt immensely grateful that Frankie had shown him options for shamanism that didn’t require being a moral and social pillar of a pack.

Not that it would stop some people from looking up to him or emulating him anyway. What the hell had Mark been thinking? And why had Daniel helped him without talking to Riordan?

The plan had to have been hatched recently. The pair couldn’t talk before Riordan had helped Mark reach the tree’s spirit glade. Then they had bonded over their mutual trauma and…

They both felt helpless, Riordan realized. He’d known that, but he’d also known that the only real cure of that was time, effort, and experience. Well, they had just done some effort and gotten some experience. Daniel had clearly been part of the deal too.

The frustration and upset winding him up released with a long sigh. Riordan got it. He’d been there, young, dumb, and scared. Hell, he was still young and dumb by many measures. And scared too, when he wasn’t being too stubborn to feel it.

There were reasons he wanted a life that wasn’t built around conflict for once. Riordan wanted to be able to strive for something positive and feel accomplished without living off adrenaline and regrets. Those only got him so far and left a bitter aftertaste.

His phone buzzed again. Riordan checked it. The new message was from Mark, though it looked like he’d also missed a reply from Quinn. He opened Mark’s text first.

Mark: I’m sorry, Riordan. I got your voicemail. I didn’t mean to worry you. I’ll explain after Frankie is done with me. Daniel will likely come to you first.

That sounded like Mark, alright. Diplomatic and understanding, but not a wilting flower despite how rattled the kid had been lately. Riordan actually felt grateful that he’d gotten his freak out over with before the pair returned. He wanted to be supportive to Daniel, not upset like a worried mother. They would work it out.

Riordan opened Quinn’s reply next.

Quinn: I can understand that. I hate that the Department’s issues have undermined our trust. I want to work with you

Quinn: Good luck with your pack stuff. Adam and I are going to try tackling our issues

Quinn: I’ll keep you updated when I can