POV EMMA BELLE
The air in the Great Hall of the Black Crag was frozen in a state of excruciating tension. I could feel the presence of the Southern messenger before I even reached the doors—a scent of sea salt, old money, and an arrogance that made my inner wolf bristle.
Beside me, Félix was a different man. The blushing, tender boy from the nest had vanished, replaced by the lethal First Consort of the North. He walked with a new authority, his shoulders broader, his emerald eyes glowing with the protective fire of a mate who had just sealed his claim. He wore his leather armor with pride, the silver marks on his neck—now fully healed and shimmering—displayed for all the world to see.
"Ready, Little Bird?" he whispered, his hand brushing mine in a silent promise.
"Let's show
