The great hall of Blackmoor had never held so many Alphas at once. Representatives from every territory in the known lands had answered my summons, filling the ancient stone chamber with a tension so thick it could be cut with a blade. Some had brought small retinues, others had come alone, but all carried themselves with the wariness of predators uncertain whether they were attending a feast or becoming the meal.
I stood at the head of the hall, wearing the formal regalia of my position—Kael's ceremonial armor, polished to mirror brightness, with the ancient sword of Blackmoor at my hip. It was theater, but theater had its place in politics. I needed to look like someone who belonged in this position, someone who commanded respect rather than merely demanded it.
"Distinguished Alphas,"
