Tiara's POV
The gathering was lively, filled with laughter, voices overlapping in warm conversation. The courtyard behind the packhouse was bathed in golden torchlight, casting flickering shadows over the long wooden tables where warriors and pack members sat, plates piled high with roasted meat, fresh bread, and steaming vegetables. The scent of grilled venison and spiced ale was thick in the air, mingling with the crisp night breeze.
I sat near the end of one of the tables, a little apart from the loudest chatter. It was easier to watch from here.
I liked watching.
It was simpler than speaking, easier than pretending I belonged in the middle of all this.
Nicholas, however, thrived in it.
He moved with effortless authority, drifting from one group to another, exchanging brief words
