The Riverbend delegation arrived at dusk.
They did not come quietly.
Their wolves lined the outer courtyard in disciplined formation, cloaks bearing the blue-gray sigil of running water stitched with deliberate care. Their Alpha walked at the front, tall and broad-shouldered, silver threaded through his dark hair, eyes sharp with calculation rather than hostility.
Caleb felt the shift immediately.
This was not a challenge party.
It was an assessment.
“Alpha Blackthorne,” the Riverbend Alpha said, inclining his head just enough to be respectful. “You look well.”
Caleb returned the nod. “As do you, Alpha Torrin.”
Torrin’s gaze slid past him—then stopped.
Lila stepped forward.
Not rushed.
Not hesitant.
She wore a deep green gown that echoed the forest rather than the crown, fabric
