Olivia's POV The banquet was meant to show that our claim against Vanessa Silverfang hadn't broken the wider peace between the packs. It was a small gathering of neutral and friendly packs, carefully chosen. I sat at my father's right, my glow low but visible, silver tracing the edges of my hands against the table settings. Dorian sat on my other side. Cassian faced the main guests from across the royal platform. The talk moved along expected lines: trade routes, polite nods toward the evidence review, careful words about the east. For nearly an hour, the evening did its job. Then my father's hand tightened once around his goblet, and my light spiked hard. I felt the poison hit his blood the same way I'd felt the silver arrow: sharp, hostile, a mark my gift read as a direct attack on the royal line. It wasn't Vanessa's ridge magic. It was older and faster, made to drop an Alpha of his strength within minutes. The wine had been clean when poured. Someone had slipped it in betwee
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