The royal chambers felt smaller, heavier, as if the walls themselves were closing in on the three men trapped inside.Caelan remained on the bed, sheets tangled around his hips, skin still flushed and marked from Lucien’s earlier claiming. His silver eyes flicked between the two brothers — one possessive and protective, the other dangerous and calculating. The mating bite on his neck throbbed visibly, a living reminder of the bond that had started this entire storm.Rowan hadn’t left. He stood near the door, arms crossed, his charismatic smile now twisted into something sharper, more predatory. The return of the exiled prince had brought old jealousy roaring back to life, fueled by Elara Voss’s clever whispers.“You still look at him like he belongs to you alone,” Rowan said, voice smooth but edged with venom. “Even after everything, brother. The packs are restless. Elara is offering them a way out — a second ritual to ‘balance’ the power. Many are listening. They say the Silver Heir
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