The council chamber had never felt so burdened. The massive oak table stretched out before Evelyn like a battleground, the elders seated with toughened faces and vigilant eyes. Candles flickered on the stone walls, casting the dancing shadows that seemed to press in a little bit closer every second.
Evelyn sat beside Damien, her fingers clasped in her lap where no one could see the curl of them. She had sat through a dozen councils by this point, but today there was something different in the room, an audacity that put her on edge more than the usual reserved scorn.
A bearded old man silver-plaited cleared his throat. "Alpha," he began, his voice pseudo-smooth, "we must reconsider the question of the mating ceremony. With the raids lately and tension between the families, it would be unwise to invite celebration while our walls are not secure."
Evelyn's stomach cramped. She already knew where this was going.
