The council chamber was colder than usual.

Lyla stood at the head of the long oak table, her hands pressed flat against the scarred wood.

The room was quiet, but tension hummed beneath the stillness.

Rowan sat to her left, his brow furrowed beneath the weight of a fresh scar along his temple. Asha sat beside him, her arms crossed, her dark gaze watchful. Vaughn leaned back in his seat at the opposite side of the table, his mouth curled faintly, dark eyes gleaming beneath the dim ...