Magnus
"Golden Lake is now officially under Alpha Windthorne's rule," Christian, the King's first assistant, announces, sliding a map across the table toward me.
I uncross my arms and pull the map closer, quickly scanning the blurred borders—inkblot shapes representing the shifting territories of the packs.
"Alpha Arcanis didn't have a wife," I muse aloud, resting my chin on my interlaced fingers. "No heir either. And considering Windthorne paid the rogues to reclaim his mistresses, there's no doubt this acquisition was part of his plan all along."
Christian sighs deeply, running his long, unusually slender fingers through his thick blonde hair before shaking his head with a faint air of disapproval.
"We don't interfere in pack politics unless it threatens the kingdom's safety."
His words only deepen the crease between my brows. "Am I not the one who judges what threatens safety?"
