My hands were under the table. They’d been under the table for every session since the rejection, because the tremors had started and hadn’t stopped. My fingers shook against the armrests, and my jaw ached from holding my wolf still.
“And then there is the matter of your mate.” Iver adjusted his robes. “The daughter of this confirmed hunter.”
“My ravens to the council contained no mention of her connection to Thiago Maxwell.” The accusation underneath my tone was not subtle. “I reported the Order’s survival and the confirmed mark. Nothing more. Were you spying on me?”
Iver didn’t flinch. “The council’s ravens are bred to observe, Your Majesty. They don’t just carry messages. Veyndral has bred these birds for centuries to serve as the kingdom’s eyes and ears, and that function does not pause because the sender prefers discretion.”
They had been watching.
Every raven I’d sent had been recording. Not just my words, but the ambient sounds of conversations within earshot, the fragments of a life I’d been trying to protect from exactly this kind of scrutiny.
I really should’ve roasted that fucking bird.
“The council is aware,” Iver continued, “That Percival has gone rogue in pursuit of the human. Even with the bond muted, it still affects you three.”
Solomon’s jaw tightened beside me.
“The council’s recommendation is to classify Mira Maxwell as a destabilizing influence and authorize the Long Watch to deal with her before we lose more of our own.”
“The council’s recommendation is noted.” I kept my voice level. “And denied.”
Iver opened his mouth. But it wasn’t Iver who spoke next.
Councilor Draven leaned forward. Younger than Iver, his arms rested on the table and his eyes found mine.
“Thenuseher.”
The chamber shifted.
Draven’s voice had the tone of a man discussing strategy rather than a person. “We bring her to Veyndral, and let the Order know that any move against our kind results in consequences for one of their own. Her father tracked her across the human realm for a reason. She is leverage.”
My fingers stopped trembling.
“Or,” Draven continued, “if the bond is truly muted and she’s no longer of use to the crown, we eliminate the variable entirely. A dead mate carries no political leverage for either side.”
The wordeliminatesnapped the last of my control.
I was across the table before the councilors on either side could react. My hand closed around the front of Draven’s collar and I hauled him out of his seat, dragged him across the stone surface, and pinned him against the chamber wall.
The shift came halfway. My claws extended, piercing through the fabric of his collar and pressing into the skin beneath. Deep enough to bleed. A single bead of red ran down the claw and dripped onto the council floor.
Every councilor was on their feet. Chairs scraped, voices erupted.
“Your Majesty!”
“Stand down!”
“Guards!”
Solomon moved toward the council with a growl.
Councilor Haldren surged forward to intervene but Solomon caught him by the front of his robes and hurled him sideways. Haldren hit the council table, skidded across the obsidian surface, and crashed off the far edge into his own chair.
Solomon turned back to the remaining six, rolled his shoulders once, and settled into position between them and me. Claws out. Expression empty.Waiting.
An understanding passed between Solomon and me without a word spoken. He would hold them. I would handle this.
Draven stared at me. His pulse hammered against my palm, and the claw that had pierced the fabric sat a quarter inch from the artery in his neck. His feet dangled but he didn’t struggle. He was military. He knew what a killing hold felt.
