I walked into the throne room like I was walking into a lion's den.
Except the lions were all lined up waiting for me.
The hall was massive. High ceiling painted with wolves and stars, marble floor so shiny I could see my own reflection. Guards in silver armor stood like statues along the walls. Nobles and advisors whispered behind fans and hands. And at the very end, on a throne made of black stone and wolf pelts, sat the king.
King Valerian.
He looked exactly like Aiden would in twenty years: same sharp jaw, same ice-blue eyes, same aura that said "I could kill you and no one would stop me." But there was something colder in him. Like he'd forgotten how to feel anything except power.
Aiden walked on my left, one step behind. Caleb on my right. Damon behind me like a shadow. The other seven followed in two perfect lines. Ten princes escorting one barefoot peasant in a simple white tunic. The whispers got louder.
I didn't bow when I reached the bottom of the steps.
