Aeron stood at the head of the table, a message scroll in his hand. His face was carved from ice, but Seren could feel the storm beneath: anger, frustration, fear. Kael paced by the window. Theron sat in the corner, unusually still.
The council chamber was thick with tension.
"The southern packs have formed an alliance," Aeron announced. "Six of them. Perhaps more by now. They're threatening to secede from the kingdom."
The room erupted.
Lord Pemberton shot to his feet. "Secede? They can't secede. The crown owns the land—"
"The crown owns nothing if the wolves refuse to recognize its authority." Aeron's voice cut through the noise. "Their grievances include the human rights charter, the transformation institute, and what they call 'royal overreach.'"
Lady Ashworth frowned. "Royal overreach? We've given the southern packs more autonomy than any province in history."
"They don't want autonomy. They want independence."
Kael stopped pacing. "Then we give them war."
