Malrik POV

Sensing the shift in the atmosphere, Drethos seized his moment.

“To Alpha Dashira,” he declared smoothly, lifting his glass of champagne in a mockery of sincerity.

I nearly scoffed aloud at his performance. Transparent. Predictable. Almost pathetic in how obvious it was.

Marzena’s lips pressed into a thin line, hesitation flickering across her face. She wasn’t blind she knew her husband well enough to recognize when he was plotting. Yet, after a moment, she raised her ...