Natalie POV
The grand gallery of the black wing was a cavernous expanse of polished obsidian and high, vaulted rafters carved from ancient mountain pine. The morning light filtering through the massive stained-glass windows threw sharp, fractured patterns of crimson and deep violet across the floorboards, illuminating the dense crowd of northern chieftains and minor border lords who had been summoned to the keep since the third watch.
The air was thick, heavy with the suffocating scent of nervous sweat, damp wool, and the underlying, sour tang of localized Alpha panic.
I walked a half-step behind Richard as we emerged from the private solar corridors, the heavy train of my midnight-blue wool gown sweeping over the stone with a slow, deliberate rustle. My spine remained an unbroken colum
