The doors of the throne room slammed open with a gust of icy wind.
Queen Maravelle Stormbite sat upright on the raised dais, framed by high, arched windows that spilled moonlight across the polished obsidian floor. The throne room was vast and cold, carved from blackstone and rimmed with silver filigree. Ancient banners hung like silent witnesses to the legacy of the Stormbite line.
The King's throne in Vargorath is a masterpiece of power and primal elegance. Carved from dark obsidian and veined with silver, the throne rises like a jagged mountain beside the dais, each edge sharp and commanding. Intricate symbols of the Moon Goddess and ancient Lycan lore are etched into the stone, glowing faintly when touched by moonlight. The high back fans out like the spread wings of a beast mid-roar, and two sleek wolf heads are carved into the arms-one snarling, the other calm.
Queen Maravelle's silver hair was braided into an elegant crown atop her head, her cloak of deep sapphire velvet shimmering with runes of power. Her pale skin seemed carved from moonlight, but it was her eyes-ice-blue and piercing-that held the true power. She narrowed them as Thornak strode in, a storm of blood and shadow in his black leather cloak.
Kael followed at his side, sharp-eyed and defiant, boots echoing beside his brother's.
"What is the meaning of this?" Maravelle's voice rang like steel. "You storm into the castle in the dead of night, blood on your clothes, and lock yourself in your chambers with a strange woman? The guards say no one is allowed near. Not even me."
"I gave that order," Thorn said, as he sat on his throne, his tone calm but resolute. "She's under my protection."
Maravelle rose, her cloak sweeping around her like a tide. "Who is she, Thornak? A rogue? A spy? Or another foolish charity case you dragged in from the woods?"
Thornak's jaw tightened. "She was wounded and needed help."
Oh, that's rich," came the familiar drawl from near a pillar. Prince Aedric Stormbite, their cousin, leaned casually against the marble column, dark curls tousled and a smirk stitched permanently to his face.
The Queen's eyes narrowed. "Do you even hear yourself?"
He let out a breath, heavy with restraint. "Mother, I am exhausted. Is this truly why you summoned me?"
Maravelle studied him for a long moment, then slowly smoothed her hands down the front of her cloak. Her voice, when it came, was quieter, controlled, but not softened.
"Very well," she said. "But this conversation is not over."
She turned away, pausing at the base of the dais.
"Tomorrow evening, the nobles will gather for the seasonal court dinner. You are expected to attend. I suggest you come prepared... and presentable."
Thornak said nothing at first. Then, with a slight nod, "As you wish."
"And make sure you don't embarrass your... guest."
As Thorn turned to leave, Aedric leaned toward the queen, whispering with a grin, "This is going to be so much fun."
"Aedric find out who she is, I don't want any surprises."
....
It was almost sundown in Vargorath.
Silver, dark blue, and black banners hung from the balconies. The smell of roasted meat, fresh herbs, and polished stone filled the air. Servants moved quickly through the halls, setting tables, lighting candles, and placing silverware just right. Soft music drifted from the court musicians as the castle prepared for the noble feast.
Thornak stood in the guest room next to his chambers with Kaeland Dain. Lara was resting in his chamber and her wounds were being treated by the royal healer.
He had checked on her not long ago. She was still pale, but her breathing had steadied, and the healer said she was responding well. It was the first real peace he'd felt since carrying her out of the forest.
He turned towards the tall mirror in the chamber. Black court leathers clung to his frame, embroidered with silver thread. A wide belt rested at his waist.
Dain adjusted the clasp of his shoulder mantle.
"You'll need to speak to House Veylor about the border disputes," the Beta said, "and Lord Asric will likely push for more troops near the Vale. They'll expect answers."
"They can expect silence if they bring it up at dinner," Thornak muttered. "This is not a war council."
"It's a stage, though," Dain replied. "And tonight, the court will watch your every move."
Thornak didn't respond. He glanced toward the window, where the afternoon light began to fade, casting long shadows across the cold stone floor.
Behind him, Kael lounged on the edge of the window ledge, cleaning dirt from under his nails with a dagger.
....
The light in the room was bright and hot. Golden curtains moved in the breeze, and the air felt heavy, pressing against the skin.
Princess Selene stood still while her two maids worked around her, dressing her in a long blue gown. The fabric was smooth and soft, flowing down her body like water. Silver threads were stitched into the bodice in the shape of stars. The gown opened at the sleeves and hem, moving gently with every step.
Her skin was white as snow, smooth and perfect. Her hair had been brushed until it shone, pulled back from her face and pinned with silver combs. A small crown rested on her forehead, set with yellow gems that caught the light every time she moved.
Selene looked straight into the mirror. She didn't smile. She didn't blink. She simply watched herself.
One of the maids carefully clipped a silver chain around her neck.
"You look beautiful, Princess," the maid called Eira whispered.
Selene didn't smile. She kept her eyes on her reflection. "I always do," she said simply.
Then she turned slightly and added, "Make sure the back is smooth. I won't give them anything to talk about."
Outside, the sound of carriages, footsteps, and voices drifted in through the open windows. The court was gathering. The nobles were arriving.