Alec, still looking resolutely away, gave a sharp nod. "Yes." He swallowed, the sound unnaturally loud in the silent chamber. "Again, I apologize. But they… their mood is not a patient one. They seem angry."
The word landed between them like a shard of ice. Jane's fury, white-hot and personal a moment before, cooled into something far more lethal: calculated concern. Her hand, which had been splayed possessively over Reina's back, slid down to clasp her hand, their fingers intertwining. The silent message was clear: Together.
"Then we should not keep them waiting," Jane said, her voice once more the emotionless instrument of the Volturi's most feared guard. She didn't look at Reina, but the firm squeeze of her fingers was a language all its own.
They moved as one, a swift and silent procession through the labyrinthine stone halls. Alec led the way, his pace brisk, putting a respectful distance between himself and the pair. Reina's new senses were a whirlwind. She could hear the faint scuff of Alec's boots on stone three corridors away, smell the lingering scent of aged paper and dried ink from a scribe's chamber they passed, and feel the cool, still air parting around them as they moved with preternatural speed. But her entire world had shrunk to the point of contact with Jane's pale, stone-strong hand. It was an anchor in a suddenly turbulent sea.
The immense, ornate doors to the throne room stood open, a silent, ominous maw. The gathered guard—Heidi, Demetri, Felix, and others—parted for them without a word, their expressions uniformly blank, though Reina's new intuition caught the faintest flicker of curiosity in Heidi's gaze. The three ancient kings were already seated on their dais, and Alec's assessment had been correct. The air in the throne room was thick with a cold, simmering wrath.
Aro was not smiling. His usually cheerful, inquisitive demeanor was gone, replaced by a grim stillness. Caius's lip was curled in a permanent sneer of displeasure, his white-knuckled grip on the arm of his throne betraying his agitation. Even Marcus, typically the portrait of detached apathy, watched their approach with a faint, troubled light in his ancient eyes.
Jane stopped at the base of the dais, releasing Reina's hand to stand at a formal, respectful attention. Reina instinctively mimicked her posture, her own stillness feeling clumsy next to Jane's perfected grace.
"You summoned us, masters?" Jane's voice was clear, cutting through the heavy silence.
It was Caius who spoke first, his voice a venomous hiss. "Summoned? We should not have needed to summon our chief disciplinarian for a matter of this urgency. Your… distractions…" his crimson eyes flickered to Reina with unmistakable disdain, "…have made you neglectful."
Aro held up a slender hand, though his expression did not soften. "Peace, brother." His dark eyes settled on Jane, and then on Reina, lingering on her with an intensity that felt like a physical touch. "We have received a… troubling report. One that demands our immediate and absolute attention."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "Irina of the Denali coven has come to us with a claim. A most grave claim." He leaned forward slightly. "She swears she witnessed an immortal child. In Forks."
The words meant little to Reina, but their effect on the room was electric. A shared, sharp intake of breath rippled through the guards stationed along the walls. Jane went impossibly stiller beside her.
"An immortal child?" Jane's voice was low, disbelieving. "The crime is absolute. The punishment is annihilation. Is her testimony reliable?"
"Her grief over her lost mate makes her… passionate," Aro conceded. "But she is not given to outright fantasy. She believes the Cullens are harboring this abomination."
Caius slammed his palm down on the stone arm of his throne, the crack echoing through the cavernous room. "The Cullens! Of course it is the Cullens! Carlisle's ridiculous philosophy was always a thin veil for his arrogance. To break this most sacred law…"
"It must be investigated," Marcus intoned softly, his voice the scrape of dust over stone. "Without delay."
Aro's gaze fixed on Jane again, and then slid meaningfully to Reina. "Which brings us to you, dear ones. We cannot mobilize the full guard on the word of one distraught vampire. Not yet. It would be seen as an act of war before the facts are known. We require… finesse. Observation."
A plan was clearly already formed in his ancient mind. "You, Jane, are our most precise instrument. And you," he said, his eyes locking onto Reina, "are an unknown variable. A new face, unconnected to our traditions and conflicts. Your mind, I would wager, is a fascinating blank slate to any telepath."
He didn't wait for a response, his attention snapping back to Jane. "You will go to Forks. You will observe this… child. You will confirm Irina's claim. And you," he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper meant only for their enhanced hearing, "will ascertain if your new companion possesses a gift that may be of use to us in the… resolution… of this matter."
The command hung in the air. A mission. A test. For both of them.
Jane gave a single, sharp nod. "It will be done."
"Good," Aro said, a trace of his familiar avaricious smile returning. He leaned back, steepling his fingers. "The Olympic Peninsula is so dreary this time of year. I do hope you packed for rain." His smile widened, but it didn't reach his cold, calculating eyes. "Do try to stay out of trouble. Both of you."