The High Council chamber hadn’t seen blood in 80 years.
Today it would see treason.
The room was a perfect circle of white stone, tiered seating rising up around a central floor of black marble. Twelve thrones lined the upper tier. Ten were filled.
House Thorne sat on Darius’s right. House Kael sat on his left, watching carefully. House Drayce hadn’t arrived yet.
In the center, Lord Marrow knelt in silver chains. Lycan oath-magic hummed around him, invisible but absolute. He couldn’t lie. He couldn’t break it. He could only speak the truth.
Elara stood beside Darius, Aria and Elias behind them. Kade and Ryn stood at the doors. No weapons. No one needed them. The chamber itself would kill anyone who drew steel without cause.
The High Arbiter, Lady Veyra, struck her staff once.
