LIAM'S P.O.V
The chill of the hallway clung to me, sharper than the air outside. I leaned against the heavy oak door, the wood cool against my sweat-damp back. Lance’s words still echoed in my ears, a bitter, unwanted sermon. You’re chained too, son. You just can’t see it yet.
"He’s still an asshole, even in a cage," I muttered to Aragorn.
My wolf didn't answer right away. He was quiet, subdued, the way he always got when Lance spoke truths too close to the bone. He knows Eos. He knows her heart.
I sighed, pushing off the door. I wouldn't let a prisoner's guilt-ridden philosophy hold me back. I was the King. I was the one fighting.
I needed air. Not the stale, charged air of the dungeons, but the cold, clean bite of the mountain. I walked through the silent halls, my mind a tangle of
