"That's right," she finally said.
"Please, can you just say the time already?" the newswolf pressed, leaning forward, impatience sharpening his tone as his fingers tightened around his recorder.
Elara and Emma didn't stop walking.
Their step remained steady, measured—but Elara's shoulders dipped ever so slightly, the weight of the moment pressing down on her. She exhaled through her nose, slow and controlled, as if holding back more than just words.
"Well…" she began at last, her voice calm but distant, eyes fixed ahead. "I don't know. Maybe before… or after her mating ceremony with the Moon Prince."
A flicker of reaction passed across the newswolf's face—surprise, calculation, hunger for more.
He quickened his pace to keep up, boots scraping lightly against the ground. "That means the king has accepted her already?"
Elara's jaw tightened.
