The pack council review was held in the Hold's formal chamber.
Not the common room — the chamber. The one with the long table and the high ceiling and the specific quality of a space designed to carry the weight of decisions. I had not been in it before. I had walked past its closed doors twice during my visit and had understood, from the architecture alone, that it was a room built for things that mattered.
Today it was going to matter.
Fourteen council members. Zevran at the head of the table. Cael Orin at his right. Fenn Calloway two seats down, compact and steady and seventy-one years old and prepared.
Breck Yvaine and Tova Seld across from Fenn, with the look of people who had spent eleven days preparing an argument and were confident in it.
And me, in the chair beside Zevran.
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