The air in the study was thick enough to choke on. The fire Damon had lit earlier was now a full, ravenous blaze, feeding on the tension in the room. Its light threw long, twitching shadows across the walls—shapes that looked unnervingly like wolves locked in combat.
"It is a calculated risk, Finnegan," Elder Thorpe insisted, his voice rising as he stood his ground by the heavy oak desk. "We are not suggesting we send her in alone. We would have a full perimeter. But without the Lex Terrae—without a witness who can speak for the soil—Vane wins. It is that simple. Leela is the only key that fits the lock."
"She is not a key," Finnegan roared, pacing like a caged predator, hands opening and closing at his sides. "She is my mate. And she is pregnant."
"And she is an Elemental," Elder Horne
