I moved toward the window. Stopped to turn back.
“The food at the pine. Can I keep...”
“Yes.” Too fast. She caught herself. “For operational purposes. You’re useless to anyone if you starve.”
“Operational purposes. Got it.”
I climbed onto the ledge. The camera arc was on its return sweep. I had seconds.
“For the record,” I said, “your hair looks nice down.”
“Getout.”
I dropped from the window, hit the grass, rolled into a crouch. Wolf form, low to the ground. Twenty meters past the perimeter before my heart rate settled.
From the tree line, I turned around.
Her window was dark. The curtain back in place. But before it fell, I’d caught it. Her hand pressed flat against the glass. Her palm opened, fingers spread for one second.
I pressed my paw against the ground. Same shape.
‘Don’t come to the window again, Percival.’
I settled into the pine needles and closed my eyes. Let her heartbeat count me into a version of rest.
She was right. Coming back was reckless and stupid and would get me killed.
But I was already calculating the next camera gap.
38
— • —
Lucian
The council chamber smelled of old stone.
I had occupied the seat at the head of this table for centuries. The obsidian chair was carved from the same volcanic rock as the palace walls, and on most days it felt less of a throne than a sentence.
Today was not most days.
“The mark is unmistakable,” Iver declared. “The same symbol carved into the Hall of Memory beside the names of every wolf they slaughtered during the Burning Years.”
He let the words settle. “The question is not whether the Order survived. It did. The question is what we do about it.”
Seven councilors sat between us. Four of them were looking at Iver. Three were looking at me. The ratio had shifted. Last week it was five to two in my favor.
Solomon stood at my right flank. He hadn’t spoken once in the last three sessions, but his presence carried its own weight. His pale eyes tracked Iver’s movements with the same precision he applied to everything.
“We’re not disputing the threat,” I answered. “We’re disputing the approach.”
“This isn’t a light matter.” Iver turned to the chamber. “The dart was engineered for lycan biology and a formula erased memories of the bond. This is not a relic from centuries ago. This is an active, organized threat with modern capabilities. Humans have advanced.”
“We don’t know how many of them there are,” I said. “It’s one confirmed member.”
“One was enough back then, someone who noticed a scar healing too fast. A rumor that turned into an extermination.” Iver’s voice dropped. “We lost thousands, Your Majesty. Do you want to wait until we have a body count to justify action?”
The chamber went quiet.
