Wridel Island was the crown jewel of the Sovereignty, where the Supreme Eminence held court in all their divine, self-important glory. It was Wridel’s bastion of power, a shining symbol of Gaia’s blessings. Someday, when I ascend to Supreme Eminence, this would be my home.

The island was, I had to admit, stunning. It was the kind of place poets would write odes about and noblemen would backstab their grandmothers to visit. Every petal, every ripple of the pristine waves, appeared to have been intentionally designed to remind you that Gaia was the goddess of creation.

The council lounge was no different. The scent of polished wood and incense filled the air, clearly selected to reflect sophistication and refinement. It couldn’t quite mask the underlying stench of pompous superiority that seeped from every corner of the room.

Stepping in with Devon at my side should have been reassuring. He was, after all, the Alpha of the Irving realm, the Sovereignty’s General, and an immovable wall of calm authority. But as the heads turned toward us, it became painfully clear that these people didn’t care who you were or what you’d done. Their gazes weren’t polite. They were calculating, predatory even, like a room full of wolves in designer robes.

“Chin up,” Devon murmured, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

I straightened, shooting him a sidelong glare. “Easy for you to say. You don’t have to worry about someone questioning your right to exist.”

His lips twitched, but he said nothing, and I wasn’t sure what to make of that.

The chamber itself was impressive, with huge windows pouring in golden light and casting a vibrant glow over the finely carved furniture and rows of shelves piled high with historic literature. If I wasn’t already on edge, I might have appreciated the artistry.

But there wasn’t much time for gawking. Lady Loreleia sat at the far end of the table, her pristine white robes glowing in the light pouring into the room. She looked up as we approached, her sharp blue eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Just enough to make it clear that she saw us, measured me, and found me lacking. But despite the frost in her eyes, her berry pink lips curled into a smile as warm as a frozen dagger.

“Lady Celeste,” she greeted. “Alpha Devon. What an unexpected pleasure.”

Pleasant was a stretch, and I’m sure she knew it.

I smiled back, though mine was much closer to baring my teeth than expressing any genuine goodwill. “Your eminence,” I replied, keeping my tone as polite as I could manage. “How” radiant you look.”

Devon didn’t say anything, but his lips twitched as if he found my answer amusing.

The rest of the council sat silently, watching me like a pack of hawks waiting for something to justify pouncing. Oh yes, this was going to be a fun meeting. I could already feel their judgment radiating across the room like heat from a forge, pressing down on me in waves.

Thankfully, there was one small reprieve in this sea of smug faces: my parents. Stoic as ever, they sat at the table like carved statues. But somehow, their presence was still” reassuring. I wasn’t entirely alone in this room full of snakes.

“Let us begin,” my father said. He took the other seat at the head of the table.

The meeting started with the usual boring formalities: a roll call, a brief review of the agenda, and a series of unnecessarily long reviews on territorial stability. After that, the reports started. Long-winded, overly formal accounts of territorial issues and minor squabbles between noble houses that no one but the speakers seemed remotely interested in.

I tried to focus. I really did. But the words blurred into background noise as my thoughts drifted, replaying the very inconvenient things Devon had whispered to me earlier.

“I haven’t completely claimed you yet.”

“I am yet to make you feel like my woman.”

Gaia, those words had no right taking up so much space in my head. Every time I tried to tune back into the meeting, my mind betrayed me. It dragged me back to the way his breath had brushed my ear, the heat of him being so close to me. But I needed to focus, especially while Lady Loreleia was droning on about sentinel deployments and the need for increased border patrols. Why did Wridel need more border sentinels? Were we at war?

“Lady Celeste,” Loreleia’s voice snapped me back to the present.

I blinked, realizing too late that the entire room had gone silent, and every pair of eyes was now fixed on me.

“Yes?” I answered, sitting up straighter, but my heart was racing for all the wrong reasons.

“We were discussing the allocation of magical resources for sentinel training,” Loreleia said with condescension that almost made me sneer. “Surely, as Supreme Successor, you have thoughts on the matter?”

Ah. There it was. The classic trap. They weren’t actually interested in my thoughts. They just wanted to watch me flounder.

“I do,” I said, forcing a smile. “But I’m more interested in hearing what this council has planned thus far. No point in repeating ideas, is there?”

I could tell from the way Loreleia’s eyes narrowed that she was displeased by my deflection. “How” diplomatic of you.”

Translation: How spineless of you.

Even though I was mentally flipping through all the curse words I knew, I held her gaze with a straight face.

The rest of the meeting dragged on, a never-ending slog of tedious debates, Loreleia’s razor-edged remarks, and Devon’s maddeningly subtle grin at my expense. I was just about ready to start counting ceiling tiles when my father spoke up.

“Alpha Devon, could you provide an update on the investigation into the cult of the Dark Veil?”

I sprang to attention so fast I might have been hit by a lightning bolt. The Dark Veil. I got a chill when I heard that name.

Devon’s jaw tightened. “It’s clear that whoever’s behind this has been operating in the shadows for a while. We are, unfortunately, playing catch-up.”

I leaned forward slightly, hanging on to his every word.

“We know they’re behind the magic eater plague ravaging Wridel,” Devon said.

My pulse spiked, his words hitting like a thunderclap. The magic eater plague. My thoughts immediately went to Camille; her mark, her death. This was it, wasn’t it? This was what Kael had been investigating, the trail he’d followed so far into that fountain. If it was as dangerous as it sounded, he shouldn’t be out there alone.

I glanced at my mother. She was already watching me, her eyes sharp and knowing. Then, with a subtle shake of her head, she delivered a message only a mother could: Don’t you dare say anything.

“A shadow sentinel regiment has been deployed to investigate,” Devon continued. His tone was restrained, but there was dissatisfaction in it too. Maybe it was our bond, but I could feel it, like the faint vibration of a string stretched too tight. Whatever they’d found so far, clearly wasn’t enough for him.

I tried to focus on the rest of the discussion, but the words blurred into meaningless droning. I had a million questions about the Dark Veil Cult. What exactly had Devon’s sentinels found? How deep did this go? And more urgently, where did Kael fit into all this? There was no way Devon didn’t know Kael was investigating this as well.

My fists clenched under the table, the effort to keep my face neutral becoming a losing battle. I wanted—no, needed—to get Devon alone after this meeting and gather every shred of information he had. It didn’t matter if it wasn’t my place, I couldn’t sit by, not when I could finally find out what happened to my sister.

Devon’s gaze drifted to me, brief but intentional. It wasn’t a question or a reprimand, just a reminder. I know. He could feel my restlessness, and I hated how exposed it made me feel.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to sit straighter and smooth the anxiety from my face. My best attempt at calm wasn’t much, but it would have to do.

“Are you feeling alright, Lady Celeste?” Loreleia asked with mock concern in her voice. The saccharine sweetness was a flimsy veil to cover the sharp gleam in her eyes that was anything but kind. “You look positively aghast.”

I opened my mouth to respond, already bracing for the verbal fencing match she obviously wanted, but Devon beat me to it.

“I don’t understand,” he said, and his voice was colder than I’d ever heard it, “nor do I entertain your continual need to poke at Lady Celeste, especially when we’re discussing such a serious matter, Your Eminence. Could you save your” whatever this is for another time?”

There was such a complete silence after that that it felt like everyone had stopped breathing.

Well. So much for decorum.

Loreleia’s lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line, her mask of unshakable grace slipping ever so slightly. For a moment, the Sovereign of Wridel wasn’t poised or unflappable. She was furious. It was there in the slight narrowing of her eyes, the faint tremor in her otherwise impeccable stillness. Devon had done the unthinkable: he’d publicly rebuked her in front of the council.

And yet, I was too busy gaping at him to really care about the fire brewing in Lady Loreleia’s gaze.

I blinked rapidly, trying to process what had just happened. Did he just talk to her like that? The most powerful figure in Wridel? The absolute gall of it was staggering. Was this his true nature, or some calculated flex of his authority? Or was it just a mood swing?

Whatever it was, the venom in his tone had been startling” and, to my absolute dismay, a little electrifying.

The Irving’s weren’t just another great house. Their alphas were Wridel’s generals, a rank with unmatched prestige and terrifying autonomy. Gaia had blessed them with the authority to operate outside the traditional chain of command. Their duty was to protect the sovereign ruler, yes, but they were not beholden to her whims. Putting the state’s safety before the sovereign’s was a top priority. Their Noblesse Obligation was to hold the sovereign accountable for their shortcomings.

I’d always thought Gaia’s way of balancing power was genius. The Sovereign ruled Wridel, but the Irving Alpha was the unbendable force that stood beside her to protect the state. You could not break an Irving Alpha, no matter how much magic or might you wielded. Even Loreleia knew that.

And now she had to swallow it whole.

Loreleia regained her composure with an almost imperceptible breath. “Of course,” she said, but her voice lacked its usual bite. “I didn’t mean to distract from such a serious matter, Alpha Devon. My apologies.”

Her gaze shifted to me, and if looks could kill, I’d be a pile of ash on the council floor. But she said nothing more. Instead, she turned her attention back to the rest of the council, dismissing me as though I no longer existed.

Devon didn’t respond immediately, but his gaze remained locked with hers.

“Forgiveness,” he said slowly, “is unnecessary. Avoid doing it again.”

I nearly choked. The audacity of it. My pulse thundered in my ears as I shifted in my seat, forcing myself to look anywhere but at him, to avoid bursting into nervous laughter.

Watching the Sovereign of Wridel put in her place, not with magic or pomp, but sheer, unflinching audacity, was a sight I’d never forget. And the fact that it had been for me? It was the cherry on top of this utterly surreal spectacle.

Loreleia’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing. She nodded, her face smoothing back into a mask of cold grace. She looked like someone forced to swallow a bitter pill but determined to do so with dignity.

Around the table, the other council members remained silent. Not a single peep of protest.

Devon shifted his attention back to the council as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t just verbally body-slammed the Sovereign in front of a room full of nobles. He was calm and unbothered. Meanwhile, I was fighting the urge to grin like an idiot.

I didn’t know what was more impressive: his absolute gall or the fact that he’d pulled it off without so much as a ripple of consequence. Was it thrilling? Absolutely. Slightly arousing? Well, yes. I needed a cold drink, possibly a cold bath, and certainly some time to process the fact that this man had just become even harder to resist.

By the time the meeting finally ended, I felt like I’d aged a decade. My shoulders ached, my brain was hurt, and all I wanted was to slip out of the chamber without anyone stopping me.

I barely made it to the threshold when Mother materialized in front of me like a hawk descending on its prey.

“Tell me,” she began, “how are things’”

She didn’t get to finish. Father appeared out of nowhere, practically shoving her aside in his haste.

His hands cupped my face, his grey eyes scrutinizing me like I was a precious artefact he feared might be damaged. It was” startling. This was the closest we’d been since I was, what, five? Maybe six?

“Father?” I said, and my voice was shaky from confusion.

He didn’t answer. His frown deepened, and with a low growl, he turned and stalked toward Devon.

“Um,” I began eloquently, watching him go, “what was that about?”

“Beats me,” Mother said, stepping up beside me, and her tone was far too casual for the strangeness we’d just witnessed. We both stood there like nosy bystanders, watching Father and Devon exchange a few clipped words before they excused themselves and walked out of the room.

Could Father tell Devon had marked me? That shouldn’t be possible, even for a Lycan. Could it?

“Back to you,” Mother said abruptly, snapping my attention back to her. “Did your second affinity manifest yet? I suppose it will be fire.”

I blinked at her. “Why would I have another?”

“It is Gaia’s way,” she said, as if this were common knowledge and I was just slow on the uptake. “After your selection, you gain another affinity for the elements. You’ll unlock another after your coronation and a final one as you ascend as Sovereign. It’s how the goddess ensures the Supreme Eminence is powerful enough to sustain and lead Wridel.”

Oh, great. More powers. I surely hoped it was fire. “I see. Well, I haven’t felt anything yet.”

“Send word to me when you do,” she commanded, and I knew that tone of hers. It meant this was not a request. She levelled a sharp glare at me. I nodded quickly, if only to escape her wrath.

“Mother, about the magic eater’”

“We will discuss that the next time you’re home,” she interrupted briskly like she always did whenever I tried to talk about Camille. “It should be sooner rather than later. Certain things have come up.”

She didn’t wait for me to respond, sweeping past me with all the grace of someone who had just declared a royal edict. I stood there for a moment, trying to decide if I was more frustrated, confused, or just plain exhausted.

“Sure, no problem,” I muttered to myself.

I sighed, rolling my shoulders as I turned toward the hallway. If anyone else popped up with more stupid questions or demands, I might actually start throwing things.

I exhaled deeply, already half out the door, when a voice stopped me.

“Lady Celeste,” Lady Loreleia called, and her tone was faux sweetness. “A moment of your time?”

Oh, joy. This day just kept getting better.