(Siena’s POV)
The celebration dinner this evening feels bittersweet; joy at our accomplishment tempered by the constant pain in my chest where the mate bond continues to weaken.
Windhowl's council members have spared no expense, transforming our pack's communal dining hall into something almost regal with candles flickering in iron sconces and the long tables draped in deep green cloth embroidered with silver thread.
The council's decision to back my proposal surprised even my most ardent supporters.
I smile and raise my glass to another toast, my third in the past hour, even as the dull ache beneath my breastbone flares sharper for a moment.
I wonder if Raiden feels it too, wherever he is tonight—that slow, inexorable unraveling of what once seemed unbreakable. Prob
