Kaelen's POV.
The Council Chamber of the Black Ridge was not a place of silk and soft carpets. It was a hollowed-out cavern of black basalt, lit by braziers that smelled of bitter herbs.
The Elders sat in a semi-circle, their eyes reflecting the flames from the fireplace.
"The Moon is reaching its zenith, Alpha," the Lead Elder, said. His voice echoed off the stone. "The transition has begun. We see the light on your skin and we can feel the vibration in the floor."
"I am aware of the timing," I said, my voice tight. I stood in the center of the ring, Fenrir to my left, Varro to my right.
"This is not a matter of your awareness," the Elder countered. "It is a matter of the Law. The Black Ridge does not exist in a vacuum. It is tied to the blood of the First Pack. If the returned King refuses his fated mate during a full moon cycle, the land interprets it as a rejection of the Ridge itself."
I frowned. "A rejection? I am standing here leading the defense."
