The dream hit her like an ambush.
No warning, no slow slide into it. One blink and Aria was standing back in the Silvercrest hall.
Everything was too bright. Too polished. Crystal caught the light from high windows, banners hung just so along the walls. Wolves in fine clothes filled the space, faces blurred but mouths moving.
No sound came out of them.
Her own footsteps on the stone were the only thing she heard.
She looked down and saw the green dress she’d worn that night, smooth and perfect, not wrinkled from being shoved into a bag. Her hands were empty. No tray. No cups. No excuse.
At the far end of the hall, the dais loomed. Aiden stood there in his ceremonial coat, posture perfect, Olivia at his side. The Council ringed them, serious and important. Behind them, the Silvercrest
