The council chamber buzzed with fury.
Ryker stood in the center, his shoulders squared, his jaw locked. His hand brushed against mine for a second — a touch so fleeting no one could see it — but it grounded me, even as the stares around us sharpened like knives.
“I claim her,” Ryker said, his voice echoing against the ancient stone walls. “Nina Blackthorn is my fated mate. Any threat against her is a threat against me.”
The room exploded.
Shouts. Snarls. Chairs scraped violently against the floor. The elders’ robes swirled as they surged to their feet.
“You disgrace the bloodline!” snarled Elder Varric, slamming his palm onto the long table. “You bring a hunter into our midst and call her Queen?”
“She’s not a hunter anymore,” Ryker snapped. “She’s more than that. She’s one of us.”
“
