The Great Hall of Blackwood was a cavern of cold stone and ancient judgment. Tonight, it was filled with the heavy, musk-scented breath of the High Elders, their grey furs blending into the shadows of the vaulted ceiling. They sat in a semi-circle of obsidian thrones, their eyes, shrewd, predatory, and ancient, fixed on the center of the room.
Cassian sat upon the High Throne, his fingers gripping the carved dragon-heads of the armrests so tightly the wood groaned. He looked like a man suspended between two worlds, his gaze darting between the woman who had haunted his dreams for five years and the woman who had shared his bed for just as long.
Selene stood in the center of the hall, the torchlight catching the emerald silk of her gown, making her look like a venomous serpent coiled amid
