Rhonan nods. “I’ll go talk to him now.”
Dane meets each of our eyes. “Everyone else—keep working your assignments. We have the murder proof. Now we build the tribunal case.”
Callum’s hand finds my lower back, his touch grounding me.
I straighten my spine, determination crystallizing. My sister was murdered to create this political opening. There’s no question of surrendering to such manipulation now.
“Let’s make every minute count,” I say.
Chapter 24
Lyanna
Istand alone in the Lodge’s main room, waiting. The scent of freshly applied protection wards hangs in the air—sage, juniper, and something uniquely Nyxiana’s—marking this as a safe space. Through the window, I catch Callum’s silhouette as he positions himself by the eastern wall—close enough to intervene if needed, far enough to honor this diplomatic necessity.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet,” Dane says, glancing between the main doors and me. His Alpha presence feels reassuring yet unobtrusive. “The wards will activate once he enters. No one will hear what’s said—not the delegation, not our pack.”
I nod, smoothing my hands down the soft wool of my sweater. “I understand.”
When Evren requested this meeting through formal channels an hour ago, the pack moved with practiced efficiency—securing space, establishing wards, creating protection without showing fear. The diplomatic dance is familiar to me after years in Gleann na Sidhe, but the purpose feels jarringly different.
The door opens, and Evren enters alone. He’s left the formal dragon delegation robes behind, wearing only simple combat leathers with the Crimson Court’s subtle embroidery at the collar. His gold-flecked eyes meet mine as he crosses the threshold.
The wards activate with an audible snap—a curtain of energy rippling through the room’s perimeter. Dane gives me a final nod before stepping outside, closing the door behind him.
Evren and I stand facing each other, separated by the width of the room and the weight of impossible circumstances. We were in the same room at yesterday’s formal reception, but we weren’t properly introduced—I was performing my role as diplomatic obligation while he recited ceremonial requirements. I wasn’t here when he helped the pack fight Faelan months ago; I was in Tir na Sorcha for healing training. Everything I know about him comes from Rhonan’s stories, from the pack’s accounts of the battle. Now he represents the delegation demanding I marry a stranger to prevent war.
“Lady Lyanna,” he says, inclining his head slightly.
“Just Lyanna here,” I correct automatically. “I’m pack healer, not court nobility, in this pack.”
A flicker of something—respect, perhaps—crosses his face. “Fair enough.” He gestures to the space between us. “We find ourselves in an... unusual position.”
I allow myself the smallest smile. “That’s one word for it. Rhonan told me what happened the first time you fought Faelan here—how he weaponized mate bonds.”
Evren winces slightly, bouncing once on his heels. “And now I’m part of a delegation enforcing a marriage that would destroy yours.”
The irony hangs between us, heavy and uncomfortable.
Evren rubs his thumb across his dagger hilt as he paces the small distance between us. I notice how his weight shifts subtly forward with each turn.
“It’s the same pattern,” he says suddenly, his gold-flecked eyes fixing on mine. “Rhonan showed me the reports on the contamination—corrupting pack bonds to kill from within. This marriage ultimatum uses the same methodology. Target what people love most, turn it into a weapon against them.”
He stops pacing and moves closer, lowering his voice though the wards ensure our privacy. “The contamination attack weaponized mate connections. Now he’s doing it again with this marriage contract.”
The implications settle cold in my chest.
“I watched you during the delegation presentation,” Evren continues, bouncing once on his heels. “That stiff compliance, the forced courtesy—it reminded me of reports about Faelan’s thralls. Different method, same result.”
His fingers trace the dragon embroidery at his collar. “Do you know what my brother did? Rhonan chose Serena despite every political complication it created.” Something fierce flashes in his eyes. “Our honor codes are supposed to protect choice, not destroy it.”
The diplomatic mask slips from his face completely. “This delegation mission—it violates everything we fought against. The same corruption, just wrapped in political obligation instead of magic.”
He moves closer, his voice dropping further. “I can’t officially oppose this without compromising my position. But I can tell you what the dragon court has observed. The tribunal has been influenced. Seven marriage contracts in the last year with identical enforcement patterns—each one strategically placed to create maximum political leverage.”
I catch my breath. We suspected manipulation, but this confirms it on a scale we hadn’t imagined. “Faelan’s corrupted the entire tribunal?”
Evren nods grimly. “And using the same methodology. The corruption signature on the contracts matches what Rhonan showed me from your pack’s contamination. He’s weaponizing bonds systematically across realms.”
