POV: Tristan
The silence of the High Library was absolute, a heavy velvet curtain that shut out the chaos of the pack beyond the oak doors. The afternoon sun had shifted, casting long, golden fingers across the ancient floorboards, illuminating the dust motes that danced between us like tiny, suspended stars.
Rena sat in the oversized velvet chair, her hands—still slick with the healing moon-lily salve—resting in her lap. She looked up at me, and in the golden light, the amber in her eyes seemed to catch fire. The vulnerability I had seen in the scullery was gone, replaced by a quiet, searching intensity that made my heart hammer against my ribs like a trapped bird.
"You mean it," she whispered, her voice barely a breath. "You would really leave it all behind? The title, the power... th
