The morning after the Treaty Ball, the Voss Palace had almost returned back to normal except most wolves still having hangovers. In the private meeting chamber, sun rays slipped in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, highlighting the delicate gold trim on the tea set sitting between Serena and Isolde.
Isolde looked radiant, her blonde hair perfectly braided, showing no signs of the frustration she must have felt when Ronan abandoned the ball. She leaned back in her velvet chair, a small, graceful smile on her lips as she watched Serena stir her tea.
“I’m so sorry about last night, Isolde,” Serena said, her voice filled with genuine concern. She reached across the small table, her eyes searching her friend’s face. “For Ronan to leave before the toast... It was disrespectful to you and
