The meeting room sat on the second floor of the castle, tucked behind double doors carved with wolves chasing each other in an endless circle.
Raye and I pushed them open.
A single large table dominated the room. It was carved from dark gray stone, heavy enough that it must have taken a few people to set in place.
The men were already there. Rion sat at the head of the table. Ares lounged to his right, broad-shouldered and smirking as though the room itself bent to his humor, while Diaval sat opposite him, his lean frame draped across the chair with casual nonchalance.
My steps faltered when Rion's gaze found me. His eyes held mine as though he'd been waiting for me to arrive, and for one disorienting heartbeat, I felt the same jolt I had the first time I touched the fire as a child.
I swallowed, forcing myself to look away. I shouldn't feel guilty for the words I'd flung at him last night. I had spoken the truth.
