The great hall was colder than usual that night. Fire burned in the hearth, but its warmth did not reach the stone walls or the people inside. Five elders sat in high-backed chairs, their gray cloaks pooling around them, their lined faces unreadable.
Kaelen stood before them, tall and steady. His golden eyes glowed faintly, a warning in themselves, but the elders did not bow. Not yet.
Elara had not meant to linger near the hall. She had been carrying a basket of herbs toward the kitchen when she heard her name echo inside. Her steps froze. Her heart began to pound. Slowly, carefully, she set the basket down and leaned closer to the half-open door.
She knew she should not listen. But something inside her demanded to know.
“Alpha King,” Elder Roran’s voice was rough, sharp as flint. “We
