"They call you my weakness," Elara said softly, resting both hands upon the cold stone balustrade while the evening wind moved through the loose strands of her hair, and though the words were spoken with a faint attempt at humour, Alessandro heard the uncertainty beneath them because she had spent too many days watching strangers turn their affection into a weapon.
The palace balcony overlooked the broad avenues of Regina, where lamps were beginning to glow beneath the deepening violet sky and hundreds of distant voices gathered around the palace gates, waiting to hear what their Alpha would say. Freya Blackwood stood several paces behind them with her arms folded loosely across her chest, watching the pair with the quiet attention of someone who understood that political battles were rarely decided by swords alone.
