Alarics pov

The taste of wolf stench clung to the back of my throat, bitter and foul. My mother’s soldiers lined the path to our carriage, like armored shadows glinting beneath the moon.

The whispers of wolves and Lycans alike trailed after us like ghosts. They weren’t cheering.. They weren’t celebrating...

They were waiting.. waiting for the first sign of fracture in the fragile treaty that had been signed in blood. This was politics after all.

The girl at my side moved like ...