Thorne's POV
The trumpets sent ripples through the air, but the air inside the council chamber was still.
Too still.
It was the kind of stillness before a storm. It carried judgment in every breath, every twitch, and every sideways glance. My elders sat around the long oak table, their eyes fixed not on me but on the empty chair at my right …the one meant for my heir, for Kieran. He wasn't here. He was where he believed he belonged, on the battlements, bleeding with the rest of them.
And it pissed me off.
They thought it a noble act. I thought it foolish.
"Alpha," Elder Darius began with a voice rough with disapproval, he barely bothered to hide. "The warriors speak. They say your son has not left the walls in days. They say he fights at their side, eats their rations and sleeps in the dirt." His gaze sharpened, slicing me open. "They say he leads."
