The chamber was small, devoid of banners. Only Lucian, Talia, and a few trusted people were there. Lucian sat at the head of the table, power emanating from him. Talia sat to his right, her branded palm exposed, a faint glow mirroring his energy.
"The King told me the prophecy," she said. "A red-haired Luna. Many heirs. End of the Council's rot." Her eyes locked on his. "Did you know? When we met—when you saw Kaela—did you already know what I was?"
Lucian’s jaw ticked. He looked at Casius.
Casius nodded. "Tell her."
Lucian met her gaze. "I suspected," he said. "Not because of your hair. Because of your wolf. Shadowmere isn’t a color, it’s a presence. When I felt Kaela, when you stood your ground against me in the ring… I knew. The prophecy felt less like a myth and more like a countdow
