[POV: Solenne]
The council chamber was cold enough to chill Solenne deep to her bones, not because of a draft, but because of the eyes. Half a dozen pairs, sharp and judgmental, all turned toward her the moment she entered at Ruvan's side.
Solenne forced her chin higher, remembering Erayne's words. Presence. Fire. Poise. She wasn't a helpless rabbit; she was Luna.
The long table stretched between them, scarred by years of claws, blades, and tempers. It was one of the most recent furniture restoration projects in the Citadel.
Wolves filled the seats: Thalos, stone-faced; the scarred captains of Ruvan's new pack; and elders who looked as though their bones had survived centuries of blood moons.
They were waiting. For Ruvan, yes—but their gazes weighed heavier on her. Most of the wolflands had caught wind that Ruvan's woman was the girl who had been sacrificed, which garnered attention on every front.
And she was the Luna who had tamed the Hollow King.