"You summoned me?" Camille's voice carried across the silence, even before the guards at the arched door could announce her. She stepped in, robes brushing the floor, her hair undone, windswept like the sea before a storm.
Rhett turned slowly. His eyes weren't the ones Camille remembered. They burned, not just with the fury of a rising Alpha, but with something older. Wiser. Hungrier.
"I needed truth," he said quietly. "And not the kind whispered in riddles."
Camille stopped in the center of the chamber. She looked small under the towering glyphs of the Elder Council, etched in stone above.
"What truth do you seek, Your Majesty?"
"The one you're afraid to speak," he said. "You've been hiding things. From me. From her. From yourself."
Camille's chin tilted up, stubborn. "You think I owe you confession?"
"I think you owe me war, or peace. And I need to know which side of that you stand on."
She folded her arms. "Sterling is making his move. He won't wait much longer."
