SHE LEFT THE ALPHA KING’S FEAST IN ONLY HER SHAWL — TWENTY OF HIS WOLVES FOLLOWED HER INTO THE SNOW

The silence in the archive was absolute, broken only by Jorah’s ragged, terrified breathing and the soft rustle of fallen parchment scripts scattered across the floor.

Valen didn't yell. He didn't roar. He walked into the room with the slow, terrifying deliberation of an apex predator approaching cornered prey. Every step he took felt like a hammer strike against the stone.

He stopped directly over Jorah, looking down at the shaking young shifter with cold, lifeless grey eyes.

"You traded the security of your pack for the empty promises of a southern prince," Valen’s voice was a low, velvet-smooth rumble that carried a terrifying weight.

"My mother, my sister—they have them in the southern province, my lord!" Jorah choked out, tears spilling down his cheeks as he pressed his forehead against the cold floorboards. "Kaelen’s men took them! I had no choice!"

Sera pushed herself up from the bookshelf, brushing a stray lock of dark hair from her face. She looked down at Jorah, her anger instantly melting into a sharp, clear-headed empathy.

"Valen, wait," Sera stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Valen’s armored forearm.

Valen paused, glancing down at her, the lethal fire in his eyes banking slightly at her touch. "He is a traitor, Sera. He compromised our security."

"He's a frightened boy whose family is being held hostage," Sera corrected softly, meeting Valen’s gaze with absolute steadiness. "Executing him or throwing him to the wolves won't save his family, and it won't solve our problem with Kaelen. It will only prove Kaelen's point that Greyfall rules through unyielding cruelty."

Valen stared at her for a long, heavy moment. The tension in his broad shoulders slowly uncoiled. He looked back down at Jorah.

"Get up," Valen commanded.

Jorah scrambled up clumsily, wiping his face with a trembling sleeve.

"You are relieved of your duties in the archive," Valen said coldly, though the executioner's tone was gone. "You will be escorted to the southern border at dawn. Take three of our fastest war-steeds and a squad of elite trackers. Go get your family back, Jorah. But if you ever set foot in Greyfall again, I won't hesitate."

Jorah stared at him in utter disbelief, falling to his knees once more to press his forehead against the floor in deep, sincere gratitude before scrambling out of the room.

Sera let out a long breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She looked up at Valen, a soft, proud smile touching her lips. "You're getting soft, Your Majesty."

Valen reached out, his warm, calloused hand gently cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing away a smudge of dust from her temple. "Only for you, translator."

Before the moment could linger, a sharp, clear sound cut through the night air from the courtyard below—the unmistakable, high-pitched chime of southern magical resonance.

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