“I’m feeding my daughter,” I said flatly. “She hasn’t eaten in three days. I came here to claim what’s mine. But if all you can offer us is coin, then let your wolves hear the truth.”
My gaze swept over the curious, whispering nobles. I stepped forward, not bothering to hide my ripped cloak or the blood on my boots.
“I am Selene Stormfang. Bonded mate of Alpha Damien. Marked beneath the Blood Moon. I bore his daughter, Ayla, and bled for this Pack. And he discarded me like trash when another female offered him more power.”
A sharp intake of breath rippled through the crowd. Damien went rigid.
“You don’t understand what you’re doing,” he muttered. “There are guests. Diplomats. Elara—”
“Elara,” I repeated, tasting the name like ash on my tongue.
Speak of the devil.
She appeared at the top of the stairs, all grace and glitter—Elara, the polished serpent. Dressed in ivory and crowned with braids threaded in gold. Her hand rested protectively on the slight swell of her stomach.
“Elara,” I said, lifting my chin. “The new Luna. The one you chose over us.”