The Summit session opened with a lie.
Not from us. From the room itself — forty-two delegations arranged in their designated seats, all performing the theater of pretending they hadn't spent the last few hours in rapid private consultation with the Alpha King's staff, that they hadn't been handed a quiet, factual briefing on the Ashveil bloodline over strong coffee and honest eye contact, that they were encountering the name for the very first time when Riven stood up to challenge it.
Forty-two wolves. Forty-two careful faces.
And one man who had no idea what he was walking into.
I watched Riven from my seat at the head table and felt the specific pleasure of a person who has been on the wrong side of a surprise too many times and is finally, for once, on the right side of it. He looke
