The throne room was silent after Leon stormed out, his footsteps echoing down the long golden hallway. The heavy doors closed behind him with a dull thud, and for a long moment, King Lucian stood unmoving. The tension in the air was thick, pressing down on his shoulders like the weight of the entire Lycan realm. His chest rose and fell steadily, but inside him, the storm raged. His son had defied him—his only son, the heir to his throne.
Lucian turned sharply, his cloak swirling around him as he walked to the wide balcony that overlooked the heart of the palace grounds. The morning light spilled through the tall windows, illuminating his silver hair and the mark of the moon that glimmered faintly on his neck—symbol of his authority as the King of Lycans.
He gripped the railing tightly. His wolf stirred within him, restless and commanding as always.
"Your Majesty," came the deep, steady voice of his wolf, Arden.
