Liam entered the war room with Damian at his side. Six councilors were already there, seated around the long polished table—men and women whose loyalty to Duskfall had never been in doubt.
“Your Majesty.” They all rose briefly and bowed as he entered.
Damian stepped in after him and shut the door behind them. “We speak plainly here,” he said. “No spies, no politics. Just the truth.”
At the far end, a wolf lady sat with her hands clasped tightly on the table. “The council is fracturing. You saw it yesterday—Fray’s chains were not enough to silence him. Every hour he sits in that cell, he spreads doubt. We give him time… he will give us rebellion.”
The second lady leaned forward. “I heard one of Myren’s stewards in the marketplace—speaking openly, calling Fray a patriot, not a traitor. A
