Aurora's POV
The council chamber smelled like smoke and old stone.
It sat deeper in Deephowl than the Alpha rooms, carved into the mountain the way a wound is carved into flesh, deliberate, permanent, impossible to ignore. Torches burned along the walls, their flames steady, their shadows restless. At the center, a long crescent-shaped table held the elders, the captains, the healers who carried influence even when they carried no weapons.
They all rose when Stefano and I entered.
I hated that.
The movement was respectful, yes, but it also felt out of place. Like they were standing for the mark on my skin, not the woman who had stumbled out of a collapsing cave two days ago with blood in her hair and terror in her throat.
"Sit," Stefano ordered, voice calm but unyielding.
Chairs scraped as they obeyed. He didn't look at me as if asking permission, and I was grateful. If he had, I might have faltered.
