Lady Eleanor leads me into one of the smaller study rooms, where a long table is already laid out with scrolls and books. A quill waits beside a pot of ink, as if I’m a schoolgirl instead of a prisoner wrapped in silk.
“Sit,” she instructs.
I do, folding my hands neatly on the table.
She begins lecturing almost immediately, her voice droning about the origins of the Royal Dynasty, the treaties that unified the wolf packs and the lycans under one crown. I try to listen, truly I do, but my mind keeps wandering—to the gardens outside, to Lina’s small, fleeting smile, to the way Lady Eleanor’s words public announcement keep ringing in my ears.
I imagine the ballroom, glittering with gold and crystal, full of guests from every pack. The perfect cover. If I could find Keith—or even someone l
