The chamber smelled of stone and old grudges.
Elders watched from high-backed seats, torches spitting low against carved walls. Guards lined the room, hands near weapons, but Lucian only looked at her.
Talia stood at his side. Her palms were steady; her stomach wasn’t. The bond hummed under her ribs like a storm trying to break loose. Amalia’s whisper echoed in her mind:
You carry more than your wolf.
No one else knew. Not yet. The secret pressed hot beneath her heart.
Lucian’s voice cut through the room.
“Enough delay. The council acknowledges her now. She is my Luna.”
Gasps broke. Elder Marros surged up, robes creaking.
“What is this rush?” he demanded. “We admit there’s a bond, but a public acknowledgment—”
“Rush?” Lucian stepped forward, power rolling off him like heat. His ey
