The Headmaster's smile doesn't move at first. It remains pinned there. Then, slowly, he exhales through his nose, as though Darien's ignorance offends him on an artistic level.
"Perhaps," Halric says, lacing his fingers together like a priest about to deliver a sermon, "the reason I didn't mention anything, Mr. Bellamy, is because it's a highly confidential matter. One that wasn't supposed to reach anyone's ears outside the Pack Council."
Darien's pulse jumps. Pack Council?
The air in the room thickens, carrying that expensive, sterile scent of disinfectant and old varnish. Outside, the campus bells toll the hour, hollow and distant. Darien leans forward, planting both hands on the desk, making it creak faintly beneath his weight.
"Well," he begins calmly but with the dangerous hum of Kairos growling beneath it, "my father is the Alpha. I think that makes him part of that council you're talking about."
