The suite in the West Wing was silent, save for the crackling of the fire Dr. Vane had insisted on lighting. Emily sat by the window, staring out at the courtyard below.
She was watching her husband.
Ethan stood in the center of the snowy garden, surrounded by a group of Ancient Alphas. He looked exhausted—his shoulders slumped, his gestures sharp and irritable. He had been managing the fallout of the Red Valley disaster for twelve hours straight.
Then, she appeared.
Lady Seraphina walked out of the castle doors. She didn't walk like a guest; she walked like she owned the snow beneath her boots. She wore a coat of white fur that blended perfectly with the landscape, and her golden hair was braided into a crown.
Emily watched as Seraphina approached Ethan. She saw the way the other Alp
