The only light in the council chamber came from the high windows, pouring over a crescent table where the elders sat. They were no longer dressed in ceremonial robes, but instead in sharp suits and polished shoes, as formal as any crown.
Guards lined the doors in tactical black, hands resting near their weapons.
Every step Talia took across the polished floor clicked softly in the hush. She felt eyes following her—measuring, weighing—not just as Lucian’s chosen, but as the she-wolf who had once been rejected and now dared to sit beside a king.
Lucian stood at the head of the chamber. He was no longer cloaked like a relic of the past. Instead, pressed black slacks tailored to his firm frame, a crisp white shirt, and a long black leather duster cut to perfection made him look sharper, mor
