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The great hall of Blackwood Stronghold had never hummed with such heavy, uncertain energy. Benches had been dragged in from every wing, filling the floor space between the high table and the doors. Along the dais sat the Blackwood Pack’s oldest elders, their faces carved from stone and suspicion; the full thirteen captains of the Zodiac, their armor polished but their eyes sharp with unspoken questions; Malphas, flanked by his northern generals in silver-wrought leathers; and twelve allied Alphas - some from packs that had once sworn fealty to the old court, some from border clans that had never bowed to anyone, some who had fought beside Aria, and...