Lyra's POV
The throne room was more impressive than Lord Merrick's. More impressive than any room I'd ever seen in my life.
Massive pillars held up a ceiling so high it disappeared into shadow. Wall Tapestries showed the drawings of battles and celebrations and pack history. Torches blazed in iron sconces, creating dancing shadows.
And at the far end, elevated on a dais was a large throne.
With someone sitting in it.
I squinted, trying to see clearly across the vast distance.
That face. Those features.
Is that Lord Merrick?
But where was the Alpha? The scarred man who'd ridden at the front of our procession?
Gareth's voice cut through my confusion. "I've carried out my duty, Alpha."
He bowed once, then turned and left, his footsteps retreating in the massive space.
Alpha?
He called him Alpha?
We stood there in awkward silence. Father, Sera, and me, lined up like criminals awaiting judgment.
I wanted to ask what was going on. Wanted to demand answers.
