Councilors. All ancient and stiff, wearing dark robes that rustled like dead leaves. Their eyes were sharp, calculating, and full of something worse than boredom. These weren’t just some advisors—they were the ones who ran the rules, controlled the bloodlines, and made life hell for anyone who crossed them.
And every single one of them was looking directly at Pauline.
She didn’t flinch.
She walked into that room like she owned it—back straight, chin lifted, hair braided to the side like a warrior princess from one of her old fantasy books. And when she reached the center of the floor, she folded her arms.
Like she was waiting on them.
Goddess, I loved her.
But I still wanted to wrap her in bubble wrap and drag her the hell out of there.
Rett and I flanked her, one on each side. Ambe
