I lift my face to his, my heart pounding hard enough to hurt. His lips part, and for a moment, I think I’ll kiss him. I want to. I want to feel something that isn’t pain or loneliness.
But before our lips meet, I stop. The spell breaks.
I turn away, wrapping my arms around myself again. “Elder Thane,” I say suddenly. “He’s part of the High Council. I thoughtthey’d help me get justice, but Izel’s tied to him somehow. She’s corrupted even them. I don’t know what to do.”
There’s a pause before he finally speaks. “You don’t need them, Freya. You’re powerful enough on your own. Once you claim Severance, no one can hold power over you.”
“Powerful?” I laugh hollowly.
He steps closer, the shimmer of his form glowing faintly. “You are High Luna, Freya.”
“High Luna,” I echo, sounding ridiculous.
“It means everything.” His voice deepens. “I found a prophecy. A High Luna who would bring a new world—one who would reunite rogues and packs, and end the false reign of the High Council under the Moon’s eye.”
I stare at him. “That’s absurd.”
“It’s the truth.”
I scoff. “I’m not that. I barely have control over my own children, let alone the world.”
Rowan’s mouth curves. “Empires don’t fall to armies first. They fall to the truth. And you—” He looks at me intently.
I shake my head. “This is too much. I’m not ready for any of this.”
“Then let me guide you.”
“How?”
“Win over your pack,” he says simply. “Even if Kade stands against you. Show them why you’re right. Expose Izel. Let them see who she really is. Stir the rebellion he’s afraid of.”
His words leave a hush between us, broken only by the quiet flicker of the hearth. Then he does something that makes my breath catch—he bends his knee.
“Rowan—”
He bows his head. “I pledge my loyalty to you, Freya Vale-Thorne. Until my death.”
“Don’t,” I whisper, shaking my head. “Please, rise. You’ve already sacrificed enough for me. You can’t give your life too.”
He lifts his gaze. “My life was never mine alone. It’s always been yours.”
Tears prick the corners of my eyes, my heart pounding so hard I’m almost scared. “You can’t say that.”
“I can,” he says softly. “But I won’t ask you to say it back. I don’t expect you to love me. I only want to loveyou. Freely. Respectfully. Like I always have.”
I can’t speak. His eyes—those green eyes that once meant home—hold me still. They remind me of sunlight through trees, of peace, of the girl I used to be before everything fell apart.
I step closer. My breath hitches. I close my eyes, leaning up just a little, until the faint hum between us brushes my lips.
“I want to kiss you,” he whispers.
“When we meet again,” I whisper back, “for real… I want you to.”
When I open my eyes, he’s no longer there. The air is still. The balcony empty.
Only the faint scent of pine and ash remains. And the ache in my chest tells me that somewhere, across the mountains, Rowan feels it too.
THE COUNCIL HOUR
