Selene’s POV
The wind howled like a living thing, rushing through every crack in the ancient fortress.
My chamber lantern quivered where it sat on the sill, the light stuttering over the stone floor.
Outside the door, voices collided—muffled by wood and distance, but close enough that I could taste their hesitation.
“…orders from the Alpha,” one captain said.
“And still the Luna’s guardian demands a countersign,” came Dorian’s reply, quiet but firm. “Perhaps you’d like to be the one to wake the Alpha to confirm them?”
A pause. Then the rustle of parchment. “He said before dawn—”
“He also said the Luna’s health is fragile,” Dorian interrupted smoothly. “If you break her rest and she collapses again, whose head will hang from the parapet?”
Another pause. The sound of boots shifting.
