"Walk with your head high, even if you want to scream."
That’s what I told myself as I stepped into the Silver Hall. My boots clicked against the polished stone floor, echoing too loud in a room that didn’t like silence.
Ryvarn walked beside me, close but not touching. His expression was unreadable, jaw tight, shoulders straight. He hated this place, and I couldn’t blame him. Every time we entered the King's court, it felt like stepping into a snake pit. Except the snakes here wore silk robes and smiled.
The walls of the chamber were lined with people. Wolves in uniform. Magicians with glowing eyes. A few witches, some curious, some scowling. All eyes followed me like I was already marked.
At the far end, the King sat on his throne, high above the rest. He didn’t rise. Didn’t smile. Ju
