The council tent was fuller than before. Heavier, somehow — with tension, suspicion, and the scent of smoke curling through the canvas from distant watch fires. It was dawn, and the early sun poured through the slats of the thick canvas walls in narrow beams, slicing across the round stone table in the center of the room where thirteen chairs waited.
The room hushed.
Footsteps echoed just outside.
And then, she entered.
Nova.
The Queen of the North.
Cloaked in deep midnight velvet, gold embroidery catching in the afternoon light like stardust. Her golden crown rested atop a waterfall of silver-blonde hair, pulled half up this morning. She was not alone.
To her right walked Bloodmoon, his scarred hand resting on the pommel of his sword, expression like carved stone.
To her left, Redmoon, sharp-eyed, proud, his presence radiating raw, unspoken power. Neither flanked her like guards. They stood with her as equals, her vanguard.
The room did not breathe.
Dozens of eyes followed her — alphas, betas, mages, generals. Some with awe. Others with envy. Some with lust. And a few with silent, simmering hate.
Nova walked the long stretch of the tent with the poise of a crowned sovereign, her gown sweeping behind her like midnight flame.
She met eyes with Starfang. He did not look away. Neither did she.
He smiled — slow, amused, and wrong. As if he knew something no one else did. As if he was waiting for something.
She reached her seat. Ragnar pulled her chair for her with a nod. Nova sat, her cloak settling around her like wings.
Only then did the others dare to sit.
Tactical advisors stepped forward to lay out deployment strategies. Scrolls unfurled. Maps were marked with pins of silver and red. Nova didn't speak. Not yet.
Instead, she watched. Listened.
Eclipseborne whispered to Alpha Bardoff, leaning too close. She caught the movement of fingers — tapping once, twice, then three times. A signal? A countdown?
Hallowborne was pale with sweat. He didn't speak or look at anyone. Just kept his arms crossed tightly, as if waiting for something unpleasant to pass.
And Starfang? His hand remained on the table. Close to his belt. Too close to the hilt of the curved dagger at his hip. His eyes were always on her. Hungry. Calculating.
Nova didn't show it. But her skin prickled.
As the meeting closed, no one noticed that Nova hadn't said a single word. But they all noticed that her silence carried weight. When the meeting was adjourned, the room did not scatter like usual.
They lingered. Watching her. Waiting.
Nova stood slowly from her seat.
The cloak fell from her shoulders as she stepped away from the table, posture straight, gaze forward. Every Alpha in the tent watched her—not with surprise anymore, but calculation. She moved like a threat now. Like someone they needed to watch. Someone they couldn't afford to underestimate.
But then—Starfang stood deliberately. It was quiet enough to hear the flick of his cloak as he turned to face her.
"Luna."
She stopped walking. The entire tent froze. Rex shifted subtly behind her.
But Nova didn't turn. Not yet.
"Luna," he called again, voice soft and pointed, "a word."
The entire tent seemed to freeze.
Nova stopped.
Starfang took a step toward her, cloak brushing the table. "You've been very quiet, my queen. One might wonder if the silence means uncertainty."
Nova turned fully then, meeting his gaze.
The other Alphas and pack leaders remained at the table, unmoving, eyes watching but pretending not to. Starfang smiled—tight, sharp, and cold.
"Clarity is a luxury," he said, voice smooth. "But command? That demands strength and a voice. It's not your place to be sitting at this table with kings."
A few heads turned. A murmur stirred near the Darkhowler side.
Nova's expression didn't change. Her voice was calm—almost warm.
"Silence unnerves you. That's useful to know." She said.
Something flickered across Starfang's face. Just for a moment. There were some snickers.
Starfang tried to smirk it off. "You've got a sharp tongue for someone so careful not to use it."
Her head tilted—slightly, as if indulging him. She nodded, and turned to walk towards the exit.
But then, Starfang's voice rang out through the noise.
"Leaving so soon, White Wolf?"
The words landed like a thrown dagger. Everyone froze. He took his time stepping around the table walking towards her, the edge of his cloak brushing the maps.
"That name suits you," he said, smiling without warmth. "All legend. Should I say, the kind of blood and a mate mark kings whisper about? Tell me, my queen, why haven't you shifted since coming here?"
His gaze lingered too long, he continued coming towards her.
"Or maybe a better question is, how did an omega bastard rise into a queen? Quite the underdog story." He grinned
"Careful, Starfang. You sound nervous." Nova said, a pleasant look still on her face.
He looked her up and down with hunger. Nova didn't react.
"There is a reason why Alpha Shadowclaw took you for himself, isn't there? Away from his own Gamma." His gaze lingered to Balen Bloodmoon, then back to Nova.
He continued walking towards her. "You may be beautiful but you hold secrets that are dangerous." Starfang's smile twisted as he stepped closer, boots echoing against the tent floor, "Secrets…they have a way of bleeding out, eventually."
His voice was silk over steel, each word a calculated blade.
Around the room, chairs scraped as some alphas half-rose, unsure if this was politics or provocation. Balen Bloodmoon straightened beside Nova. Ragnar's jaw ticked as his hand flexed near the hilt of his blade.
Nova didn't flinch.
"I wonder what color a white wolf bleeds. Surely not red… legends bleed differently, don't they?" He said, tilting his head.
She gave a faint smile, voice clear. "Try and find out."
He stiffened.
"Oh, I plan on it. If you're lucky, maybe I'll let you mark me too." He said with a laugh.
"You'd need a spine to carry my mark." Nova said without skipping a beat. Muffled snickers followed.
"You speak like someone who's never been afraid. Let's see how well that mouth holds up when your blood's in the dirt." he said spit coming out of his mouth.
"Tell me, did you mark him? There's a recovery period after that. Isn't there?" Starfang snarled. "I'm sure all the Alphas in here want to know. What else are you hiding?"
"Keep walking toward me like that, and you'll find out what I'm hiding."
Starfang paused.
It was subtle. A single breath caught in his chest, a flicker of something in his eyes — not fear. But caution.
Then a beat passed, and he laughed, cold and sharp. "Very good. Very good indeed. Shadowclaw surely wouldn't dangle his prized possession in a den of wolves for no reason, would he?"
He gave a small bow, mock-formal. "Forgive my tone, Queen of the North. We're all just eager to see what legends truly bleed like when cut."
"Then be careful you're not the one to test it." Nova answered flatly.
Someone behind Bloodmoon gave a low whistle before quickly clearing their throat.
Starfang's jaw ticked. His voice dropped half an octave.
"Careful, Luna. Mockery's a thin veil when you're standing alone. Leverage is something that you just lost. You're a liability to any Alpha that chooses to ally with you."
Nova met his gaze head-on. "Funny. I was going to say the same about you."
Starfang took another step toward her. It was fast and he moved close. Too close.
That was when Rex moved. Just a smooth step forward, a quiet repositioning, his body sliding between them like a wall that hadn't been there before.
He didn't even look at Starfang—just rested a hand lightly at Nova's back and said in a low voice, "We're done here."
Starfang stopped. His eyes flicked to Rex's hand, to Nova's face, then back.
He laughed. Cold and empty.
"This isn't over."
The other Alphas stood silent as the canvas flaps closed behind them. And then she left. The tent was quiet.