The great hall had been transformed.
Gone were the formal rows of benches where council meetings convened. Gone were the raised dais and throne that symbolized royal authority. In their place stood a circular table of polished oak, surrounded by chairs of equal size and height. No head. No foot. No throne. Just a ring of seats where wolves could meet as equals, eye to eye, without hierarchy.
Aeron had insisted on the arrangement. "The southern packs will not sit beneath us," he told the council during preparations. "They will sit beside us. Or they will not sit at all. If we want their loyalty, we must first show respect."
Now, on the first morning of the summit, the southern alphas filed into the hall. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, catching the dust motes that danced in the air.
