By morning, the entire palace was talking.
Servants whispered it in corridors, guards murmured it during shift changes, and even visiting merchants in the lower markets had somehow heard fragments of what had happened in the courtyard the night before. Logan Westwood, the former slave, had subdued an entire company of trained guards within minutes, and a young soldier had knelt before him afterward, calling him Alpha in front of the entire palace.
"This spreads faster than anything I have witnessed in years of court politics," Elena said, finding Logan in his chamber that morning, exhaustion still heavy beneath his eyes after a sleepless night spent replaying the courtyard violence in his mind.
"I did not intend for it to spread at all," Logan said. "I barely remember most of what happe
