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Sera 

I dropped my half-eaten meat onto the wooden plate. It hit the wood with a loud smack. 

“You handle your disputes with gold and daughters, Lord Torin,” I said. 

My voice was not loud, but it was cold. Absolute. It cut cleanly through the ambient noise of the High Table. Chief Vane stopped chewing and turned his head to look at me. Kael narrowed his eyes. 

Torin looked at me, genuinely shocked that I spoke out of turn. “Princess, you forget yourself.” 

“I remember exactly who I am,” I said. I turned my head and locked eyes with him. I stripped away every ounce of southern politeness I had ever been taught. “I remember standing in the dirt ring yesterday while you screamed and begged for my life because you were too weak to defend it yourself.” 

My mother gasped loudly, pressing her hand against her chest. “Sera! Stop this instantly.” 

I ignored her. I kept my eyes entirely on Torin. I watched the arrogant sneer melt off his face, replaced by a tight, ugly flush of red. 

“Taya challenged my place in this pack,” I continued, making sure my voice carried down the steps to the closest tables. “I answered her. In Valdris, a coward would have smiled to her face and poisoned her wine a week later. In Valdris, men hide behind thick stone walls and pay poor farm boys to bleed for them on the borders.” 

The warriors sitting at the tables closest to the dais stopped eating. They were listening to every single word. 

Torin’s face turned a violent shade of purple. He planted his hands on the table. “You are adopting the madness of these beasts! You are a Valdris royal!” 

“I am the Luna of Ironmaw,” I told him. The words tasted like iron and absolute truth on my tongue. 

“You are not crowned yet, Princess,” Torin snapped, his face twisting with derision. “You have no right to make those claims. You are nothing to this pack until the vows are sworn and the blood is spilled.” 

I opened my mouth to cut him off, but a low, vibrating rumble stopped me. 

“And aren’t you here to witness exactly that, Torin?” Fenris spoke. His voice was not loud, but it possessed a heavy, lethal edge that forced the entire table to freeze. “Aren’t you here to watch her become my Luna?” 

A fierce, blinding rush of pride bloomed in my chest. He backed me without a second of hesitation. He claimed me in front of the elders, the southern delegation, and the entire pack. 

I looked back at Torin. I fed off Fenris’s absolute support. 

“Here, we face our enemies in the daylight,” I continued, my voice steady and hard. “We bleed for our 

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pride. Do not sit at this table, eating the meat this pack hunted, and confuse your cowardice with diplomacy.” 

A massive, roaring cheer erupted from the warriors at the nearest tables. They slammed their heavy iron cups down against the wood. The sound was deafening. Chief Vane let out a loud, barking laugh, nodding his scarred head in absolute approval. Kael’s face contorted with rage, but he couldn’t say a word against the pack’s reaction. 

Fenris shifted in his massive wooden chair beside me. 

The heat rolling off his body suddenly spiked. It turned the air between us suffocatingly dense. I felt the thick fur of his cloak brush aggressively against my arm. 

Then, his massive, calloused hand slid completely under the heavy oak table. 

He clamped his hand down flat over my left thigh. The dark bruise there throbbed in protest, but the immense, burning heat of his palm sent a violent, electric shockwave straight up my legs and directly into my core. 

I forced my face to remain perfectly still. I kept my eyes locked on Torin’s furious, humiliated face. 

Fenris’s long fingers dug into the tight leather encasing my leg. He squeezed the muscle hard, dragging his hand slowly upward. 

“You are making a terrible mistake, Seraphina,” Torin hissed across the table, his voice shaking with anger. “King Aldric will not tolerate this disrespect.” 

I opened my mouth to reply, but Fenris’s thick fingers slipped roughly under the top edge of my leather pants. He bypassed the tight lacing entirely. He found the thin, black cotton band of my underwear. 

He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t ask for permission. He slipped two thick, calloused fingers past the cotton barrier. 

I was completely, shamelessly slick. 

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