FREYA
The nausea passes, and I straighten and smooth my dress and go back inside before anyone can wonder where the Luna has gone.
The hall has loosened into the feast. The formal part is over and the pack has spread out into knots and clusters, and I stand at the edge a moment and read the room the way I read a training ground, taking the measure of where everyone is.
Victoria sits enthroned in a ring of women, Martin half asleep against her, and they are all leaning in to her, laughing at whatever she says, touching her arm. The mother of the Scion, holding court.
Eli has left the dais. He is across the hall with a cup in his hand, deep among a cluster of warriors and elders, his head thrown back laughing at something one of the old ones said. At ease. In his element. The Alpha among
