We walked into the main hall hand-in-hand, the heavy doors thudding shut behind us. A crowd had already gathered in the atrium—warriors, staff, and high-ranking members of the pack—all eager to welcome their King back from the marsh. Demetrius kept his face like a mask of stone, his eyes fixed forward, not offering so much as a nod of acknowledgment to the bowing figures we passed.
I, however, couldn't help but feel the change in the air. I smiled back at the familiar faces, waving to those who called out greetings. I wasn't being overly exuberant, but I wanted them to see that their future was standing right here, solid and unafraid.
As we reached the foot of the grand stone staircase, a figure stepped out from the side of the crowd.
"Welcome back, my King," a sultry, honey-thick voice
