Chapter 45. A Luna Who Won’t Kneel

The ballroom shimmered with soft gold and crystal, casting the illusion of warmth where there was none. Lanterns floated above like captive stars, their light refracting off every mirrored wall, every polished glass. Velvet drapes the color of deep wine framed the vast arched windows, and beneath them, wolves of every rank and bloodline moved like silk across the gleaming marble floor.

Laughter lilted through the air, sweet and polished, every tone deliberate. The clink of glassware mingled with the slow, orchestral music, rising and falling like a tide as servers glided between guests. Nobles in finely tailored coats and wolves in embroidered gowns lined the room in clusters, engaged in quiet conversation, all carefully watching without ever seeming to watch.

At the far end of the hall, beneath a tall arrangement of silverthorn and mountain bloom, Kaelen stood among the elders. He wore black from throat to heel, but it was not the darkness that made him commanding—it wa