Scarlet’s POVThe Grand Hall of the Blood Moon was bathed in a sea of golden candlelight.Long banquet tables fashioned from mountain cedar stretched from the high stone dais down to the heavy arched doors, groaning beneath roasted venison, spiced honey-bread, and pitchers of dark blackberry wine. Hundreds of wolves from every corner of our five allied territories had gathered. Laughter, music from wooden flutes, and the clinking of iron tankards bounced off the carved stone rafters, sweeping away the last phantom memories of the war.High upon the dais, Damien sat in the great Alpha chair carved of dark northern oak.He wore a mantle of rich crimson wool bordered with soft silver fox fur, pinned at his throat with an ancient clasp of pure river iron. His dark hair was brushed back, his jaw clean-shaven save for the familiar shadow of stubble, and his golden eyes watched the crowded hall with a serene, unyielding pride. The hardened warrior who had spent months fighting out of chains
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