The heavy, iron-wrought gates of the Nightfall courtyard groaned as Jarek and two massive warriors pulled them open.
Torches blazed along the stone walls, casting long, flickering shadows over the assembled Northern wolves. Rowan stood at the center of the courtyard, flanked by Alpha Kaelen and the other allied leaders. Aria stood right beside him, wrapped in her midnight-blue velvet and white fox fur, looking every inch the Queen they had proclaimed her to be.
They waited in absolute, chilling silence.
From the dark edge of the pine forest, the Southern Delegation finally emerged.
Aria almost smirked. Her plan had worked perfectly. The grand, imposing figures of the High Council and their Southern Alpha escorts had been completely dismantled by ten miles of waist-deep mountain snow.
