The tearoom was built into the side of the Mithril Obelisk, its windows overlooking the storm as it devoured the northern plains.

A single lantern burned between Reyna and Roth, throwing amber light across shelves of aged spirits and frost-glazed glassware.

Reyna kept her back straight and her fingers off the dagger she desperately wanted to unsheathe.

Roth took the seat opposite her, removed his cloak and draped it across his lap. He looked perfectly at ease, as if this were not the most politically contentious drink in Frostcall’s history.

Reyna broke the silence first. “You didn’t need to humiliate your Omega in front of an entire hall of Icehelms.”

“He humiliated himself.” Roth picked up the decanter and poured two measures of amber ale. “And he insulted the Prime of Frostcall’s first fleet. I tolerate many things. Disrespect is not one of them.”

She didn’t reach for the glass. “You didn’t have to defend me.”

“I wasn’t defending you.” He slid one drink toward her. “I was correcting a subordinate.”

She clicked her tongue. “How generous.”

His mouth twitched in a gentle smile. “Drink. It will help thaw the frost in your veins.”

Reyna reached for the glass with a glare fierce enough to flay skin. “The only frost in this room is the one coating your ego.”

“Ah.” Roth leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “There’s the Fire Fang I encountered in Silver Oak.”

“You crossed my border unlawfully and nearly triggered a territorial incident,” she growled.

“A minor dispute,” he said mildly. “But the way you moved… the fire you nearly summoned… That was no Frostcall technique.”

Her jaw tightened. “You know nothing about me.”

“I know what I saw.”

She took a slow sip, letting the heat spread across her tongue. “What do you believe you saw?”

Roth leaned forward slightly. “You bent the snow away from your body.”

“That sounds ambiguous.”

“You nearly summoned Ember.” His voice softened, but it didn’t lose its authority.

“There are Ember lines in Frostcall,” Reyna said carefully. “It’s not impossible, why do you make it sound like it is?”

“Without a Suncrest birthmark, no Icehelm wolf in the northern regions can summon fire. And yet you did.” He tilted his head.

Wrong topic, with a very wrong wolf, and in the wrongest room.

Reyna shoved the glass away. “This conversation is over.”

She stood abruptly, and the chair scraped loud against the stone. Roth stood too, fast, and blocked her path with a single step.

“Move.”

His voice lowered. “If you’re what I think you are, you’re a political disaster. One your Warmaster will not be able to contain.”

“And if you keep pushing,” she replied, “you’ll regret it.”

“You’re dangerous.”

She grinned. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

His mismatched eyes pinned her in place. “Sit,” he said softly. “We’re not finished.”

Reyna wanted to refuse. She even wanted to put her blade to his throat. But walking out now would only confirm everything. And putting a blade to the Alpha’s throat would probably not be the greatest idea.

So she sat.

Roth returned to his chair more slowly than before, like a wolf handling something that might bite back. He poured another drink but didn’t offer it.

“Tell me what you felt in Silver Oak.”

Reyna exhaled, stabilizing her flailing Ember. “Heat… rage, reaction.”

“You saw me as a threat?” he said loudly.

“You were trespassing, and your Omegas attacked me. Of course, you are a threat,” she replied.

His mouth curved in a gentle smile. “Your plan was to burn us alive then.”

“If you plan to accuse me of something,” she said, “do it plainly.”

Roth shook his head. “I plan to understand you.”

“Why?”

“Because you are unlike any wolf I’ve met.”

“That’s not the compliment you think it is.”

Their eyes locked again, and her Azure sense stirred. Roth’s heartbeat surged into focus, loud as thunder in her ears. Ambition burned under his restraint. Caution, and resolve too. And twisted through it was a longing that had no business being there.

Reyna sucked in a breath and tore herself free.

Once the connection snapped, Roth flinched, almost imperceptibly, one hand pressing against his sternum as if something inside him had sensed her ability.

“What,” he said, voice rougher than before, “did you just do?”

She shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie about that.”

Her fingers dug into her palms. “I didn’t mean to.”

His eyes narrowed. “But you did it.”

She didn’t answer.

Roth drew in a slow breath. And for the first time since they’d sat down, his composure showed a crack.

The lantern guttered as they stared at each other. As much as she distrusted him, those mismatched eyes of his were quite mesmerizing.

“The old stories said Lunas and the Wise Women could hear intent under words,” he said quietly. “Hear the shape of intent. You just did that to me.”

“Then now you know I’m not stupid,” Reyna replied. “Or easily fooled.”

“That,” he replied, “I knew before tonight.”

Reyna pushed back her chair. This time, when she stood, he didn’t move to stop her.

“Whatever you think I am,” she said, “keep it to yourself.”

“If you wanted to disappear, you shouldn’t have become Prime.”

She paused at the door.

“I didn’t become Prime to be seen. I became a fang to protect Frostcall.”

“And now,” he asked softly, “who will you protect if this secret refuses to stay buried?”