The dining hall of the Lycan King was nothing short of magnificent.

A long oak table stretched across the center of the vast chamber, polished to such a gleam that the reflections of the chandeliers above flickered faintly across its surface. High, arched windows let in slants of morning light, softening the severity of the stone walls.

The scent of roasted meat, freshly baked bread, spiced honey, and warm herbs filled the air, making my stomach twist with both hunger and unease. Each aroma was distinct yet blended into a comforting, heady mix that reminded me that the pack thrived not only on strength, but on ritual and indulgence.

Servants...