There was no throne in the Witness Hall of the Moon Court.
Just a long wooden table, a few rows of plain chairs, and a neutrality pact signed by all the wolf packs hanging over the doorway.
Ronan was already there when I arrived.
He was wearing a brand-new coat, with a red butterfly embroidered on the back, exactly like the old one.
The original coat was still held as evidence up in the Aspen and Colorado territory. He had an exact copy made, right down to the slightly lighter stitch work along the edge of the butterfly's wing.
I noticed it immediately.
And he noticed me noticing it.
"I wore it here," Ronan said in a low, tight voice.
As if that could change a single thing.
The registrar gestured for me to sit, ran through my identity check, then asked if I was under any duress to
