“How have the things been around here, now that we are not here to keep the order?” Lethe asked, softly grazing the surface of the mural, mostly the space where the Viribus city was, with longing and a predatory stealth.
Rowan could feel Clint stiffening behind him as his own mouth tightened but he did not allow his distaste to display aside from that, “things are as they were. Orderly and brutal.” He answered with efficiency.
Lethe nodded, pleased, “as I had expected from you, Prince.” She said before turning on her heel and walking further into the room towards the glass table as she picked up a wine pitcher and poured a glass for herself.
Rowan tried not to let that title offend him. He was a Prince by blood but monarchy had never existed for long among werewolf packs. His uncle, af
