“They expect me to claim her.” I sighed.
“I am not claiming anyone like a prize.”
The words leave my mouth the moment I step into the council chamber, and every head turns toward me.
Stone walls. Torches burning low. The smell of old wood and iron pressing against my senses. I walk forward anyway, boots striking the floor in steady rhythm, refusing to slow down for men who think they can decide my life.
Or hers.
Elder Rowan leans forward first, fingers steepled, eyes sharp. “You are not in a position to refuse, Drake.”
“I just did.”
A few of them shift in their seats. Not fear. Not yet. But discomfort. Good.
I stop at the center of the chamber, shoulders squared, hands loose at my sides. Control is everything right now. If I let even a fraction of what is building inside me slip ou
