Twilight draped the ice pavilions in violet shadow as Lina and Ronan slipped back into the summit's grandeur. The twin towers of Lake Argent gleamed beneath dangling lanterns, and nobles drifted between stalls of furs and crystal caverns. Ronan's hand rested lightly on the hilt of his blade, the Obsidian Fang, while Lina's baton—now sheathed—pressed warm against her thigh.
“Stay close," Ronan murmured, voice low. “Kael Whitgrave will be here soon. He served at my side once."
Lina's pulse quickened. General Kael Whitgrave: cunning strategist, former friend, now a thorn of betrayal in Ronan's exile. She nodded, keeping her mask angled to obscure her expression.
They wove through barons bartering wild wolf pelts and duchesses flaunting captive Alphas dressed in gilded harnesses. Whispers t
