“Come,” Sorcha said. “We should take our places.”
We walked into the throne room, and I had to fight not to gape.
It was massive. Stone walls rose three stories high, with balconies wrapping around the second and third levels. The throne itself sat on a raised dais at the far end - carved from a single piece of dark stone, with wolves etched into the arms and back. Torches lined the walls, their flames flickering in the still air.
And the room was packed with people.
Nobles, I assumed. Men and women in fine clothing, standing in clusters and speaking in low voices. They all turned when we entered.
Some bowed to Sorcha. Some nodded respectfully.
Others scowled openly. A few sneered.
The disrespect was blatant. Shocking. I made note of every face that showed contempt, filing them away in my memory.
Several of them sniffed in my direction. Their noses wrinkled. I shifted uncomfortably, suddenly very aware that I was human in a room full of wolves.
“You are safe,” Sorcha murmured, sensing my fear. “They will not harm you. Not with Aurion and me here.”
“What if they decide having a human here is a bad idea?”
“Then they will have to go through me first.” Her voice was steel. “And I am not easy to kill.”
We settled against the wall near the throne. A vantage point where we could see everything but remain somewhat out of the way.
A man stepped into the center of the room. Tall. Broad. With blonde hair pulled back and eyes that gleamed with ambition.
Andreas.
“Noble lords and ladies of Ravenor,” he called out. His voice carried easily through the room. “We are gathered here today to witness what should have been witnessed days ago. The challenge for the throne.”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
“Malachar Ashborne abandoned his challenge. Fled rather than face me in combat. He has shown himself unworthy of the crown he stole from our rightful king.”
“He did not steal it,” Sorcha said loudly. “He won it in fair combat.”
“From his godfather. From a man who raised him. Trusted him.” Andreas turned to face us. “What kind of king betrays those who love him? What kind of ruler puts personal ambition above loyalty?”
Anger burned in my chest. He was twisting everything. Making Mal sound like a monster.
“Gallahan Emwood was corrupt,” Aurion said, his voice cutting through the murmurs. “He ordered the deaths of innocents. He hoarded wealth while his people starved. Malachar did what had to be done.”
“So you say. But Malachar is not here to defend himself, is he?” Andreas’s smile was smug and satisfied as he turned to address the council. “He has fled. Abandoned his throne. Abandoned his people. Therefore, by default, the throne should be-”
The massive doors at the far end of the room slammed open and Mal walked in. Gasps echoed through the room as people stepped back and stared.
He was wearing armor. Not the casual clothes he’d worn in the human realm, but actual battle armor. Dark leather and metal that gleamed in the torchlight. His hair was pulled back. His eyes were cold. Red and glowing with power.
He looked every inch the Wolf King.
“Did you truly think,” Mal said, his voice carrying through the sudden silence, “that you could steal my throne while I was gone?”
Andreas’s smug expression faltered. “You - how-”
“Did you think I fled?” Mal walked forward slowly. Predatory. “Did you think I was afraid of you?”
“You disappeared! You abandoned-”
