“Hold still."
Leia flinched as the maid adjusted the silver chains draped around her shoulders.
“They're ceremonial," the woman said nervously, “not binding."
“They feel binding."
Outside, horns echoed through the stone halls. Frostvale's annual Midnight Hunt had begun. A celebration meant to “honor tradition." Leia called it what it was—a parade of power wrapped in pageantry.
“You're to walk beside the Alpha during the procession," the maid whispered, clearly uncomfortable.
“Of course I am," Leia muttered. “What's a Hunt without a trophy?"
---
The courtyard roared as nobles in fur cloaks and wolf masks toasted with frostwine. Caged beasts were led through the snow—rare white stags, mountain lions, even a chained warg pup—each a symbol of conquest. Leia's stomach twisted.
Cassian
