Logan smelled it before he saw it.
He had been crossing the dining hall toward Elena's table, an evening ritual that had slowly become routine over the past week, when something sharp and unfamiliar cut through the usual scents of roasted meat and wine. Faint, bitter, almost sweet beneath it, the kind of smell his wolf recognized before his conscious mind could place it.
Elena was already lifting her cup toward her lips, mid-conversation with a visiting lord, completely unaware.
"Elena, stop!" Logan crossed the remaining distance in three strides and knocked the cup from her hand before she could drink.
It shattered against the stone floor, dark wine spreading across the tiles, and the hall fell instantly silent, every eye turning toward the commotion.
"What are you doing?" Elena dema
