Kael’s POV
Power was quieter than I’d imagined.
It didn’t roar or blaze. It whispered — in the shuffle of papers, the scrape of quills, the measured breathing of men waiting for my word.
On the third morning after the council vote, I sat in my father’s old chair and realized how heavy silence could be. The room was filled with it: the soft ticking of the clock, the faint hiss of snow melting off the windowsills, the low murmur of scribes waiting for instruction.
The throne had never felt comfortable. It wasn’t a seat; it was a question.
“Alpha?” Jarek’s voice pulled me from thought. He stood near the table, holding a map streaked with ink. “The western patrols report movement near the river. Could be raiders testing the new borders.”
“Or deserters trying to find their way home,” I sa
