MOON MARKED BY THE LYCAN KING
A vein pulsed visibly in his temple, a jagged blue line against his aging skin.
Asterin, seated further down, let out a sharp, dismissive laugh that echoed in the high, vaulted ceiling. "She talks of survival as if she has spent a lifetime in the trenches. We all know you were a servant in a minor pack, Skye. Do not confuse your good fortune—or rather, the King’s sudden, inexplicable whim—with strength. You are an anomaly, not a leader."