Chapter 12 – "The Calm Before the Circle."
Sunlight spilled across the den floor, turning the fur mats to gold.
For a moment, I forgot where I was. The air smelled of warm stone and crushed herbs, and the steady breathing of the males filled the space around me—different rhythms, somehow woven into one.
Nox was already awake. He stood at the entrance, the light cutting sharp lines across his back. His mane caught the sun, and for a heartbeat he looked more lion than man.
"You didn't sleep," I said.
"I don't sleep easily before a council," he replied without turning. "Old habits."
He finally looked back at me, and the weight of his gaze made me want to straighten instinctively. "Today they'll measure you, Maise. Don't give them your temper. Give them your teeth only when they've earned it."
I smiled faintly. "That sounds like something you've said before."
"To every female who thought she could outgrow her fear," he said quietly. "You're the first one who might."
Luka stirred by the fire, rubbing his eyes. "He's giving speeches already? The sun's barely up."
Chyron rolled onto his back, tail flicking lazily. "He's worried. It's adorable."
Nox shot them both a look that could have frozen lava. I bit back a laugh.
Luka stretched, the motion fluid and catlike. "He's not wrong, though. The council will circle you like hawks. They'll test your strength and your scent. If you smell of fear—"
"—they'll taste it," Chyron finished, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. "So maybe don't do that."
I raised an eyebrow. "You two are terrible at reassurance."
"Realists," Luka corrected.
Chyron smirked. "Optimists with claws."
I moved toward the wash basin near the wall, the water inside cool and clear. My reflection rippled as I dipped my hands in. The woman looking back had changed again—sharper angles, steadier eyes. For the first time, I liked what I saw.
Luka tossed me a piece of fruit. "Eat. It steadies the pulse."
I caught it midair. "Where did you—"
"Borrowed," he said before I could finish, grinning.
Nox stepped closer, his presence grounding. "You speak when spoken to. You keep your scent calm. Let me handle the introductions."
I tilted my head. "And if they insult me?"
His eyes flashed. "Then you smile. Because they won't expect the lioness who smiles to strike."
That pulled a low hum of amusement from Chyron. "I think she'll do fine."
When we left the den, the Circle was already stirring. The air hummed with voices, claws clicking against stone. Females moved with purpose, males shadowing their paths. Somewhere deeper, a low drumbeat echoed—the heartbeat of the Pride's politics.
As we walked, Luka fell in beside me, his tone low enough only I could hear. "If they try to test you, remember—dominance isn't just strength. It's composure. The calmest hunter wins."
I nodded, the advice sinking in.
Ahead, Nox led the way through the carved archways toward the upper chamber. Chyron trailed behind us, whistling softly under his breath, the tune light enough to draw curious glances.
When we reached the final turn, I caught the first scent of the elders—spice, age, and something faintly metallic. Power.
My pulse quickened, but I straightened my shoulders.
Nox glanced back, his voice low. "Ready?"
"Always."
He smiled—small, sharp, proud. "Then let's see if the Circle is."