POV: Tristan
I slammed the heavy oak door of my chambers shut, the sound echoing like a final hammer blow against the madness of the Council. My chest was still heaving, the metallic tang of suppressed rage coating the back of my throat. For three hours, I had stood in that circle of judgmental old men, listening to Silas drone on about "blood purity" and the "sacred necessity" of the mating mark. They wanted me to bite her. They wanted to see her branded like property so they could stop being afraid of what she represented.
But the moment I turned around and saw her, the Council ceased to exist.
Rena was standing by the balcony, her small frame silhouetted against the colossal, silver-white disc of the moon. She had changed out of the heavy wool she usually wore to hide herself. Now, s
