Throne Of Howls

pressing down on the low wooden beams of the roof until the very house sagged with its weight. The fire in

motional weight of watching his family splinter. His calloused hands, which were cracked and rough from tending fields and cho

her cheeks with the kind of care only a father could offer. Then, wordlessly, he pul

e barely above a whisper, thick with tenderness and quiet

ainst his chest as her shoulders heaved. The sobs that tore through her chest were too violen

re was stiff and sharp like a blade. Her green eyes flashed with s

ice trembling with barely-contained emo

o this house and you

the fire seemed to stop crackling. No one answered. The room fro

room, her footsteps were a flurry of hurt pride. The thin wooden door slammed

ing in on itself. Her sobs shifted into quiet, broken gasps, e

ing her upright. The other hand was pressed tightly over her mouth, as if she could hold in the scream she wasn

ound was the fire, still burning, unaware of the s

ind of light that made everything look deceptively beautiful. Festival bann

e, legacy, and unshaken power. The palace grounds were transformed into a spectacle: silk-draped pavilions, the scent of r

own from polished carriages with all the confidence of people who belonged. Their laughter rang clear,

ack, and his stance was that of a soldier, but one struggling to hold a storm within. His jaw was tigh

ng sort, Tristan. You know what pe

t Ce

dlines. Ab

own where it belonged, hidden behind the mask o

courtyard, anothe

io

egan, they were sharp, yet quiet w

gotten g

ega-bor

oodlines, neither

he had replaced her apron for a neat shawl, but nothing could fully h

King Emrys lifted his hand, a

the courtyard, full of unexpected warmth

alted, as thou

slow, measured grace. There was no arro

wered, his voice was calm and stea

nd, Quilan, and tapped him sharply on the shoulder w

expression unreadable. He walked to his son, Tr

. "You seem to have asked after only one grandson today

ught in throats, eyes flickering b

ckled, the sound of it

lways burning, always moving. I see him loitering around the pala

e of nervous laughter, like st

g Emrys gestured to the banquet ta

ing. "Let us feast, and toa

ring platters. The air buzzed with conversation, laughter, and the clin

g at the food on his plate without tasting a bite. His thoughts were not with the festival, but

posture was impeccable, his every move careful. He ate without liftin

the silence between them sa

distance, could not decide if

ants weaved between tables with trays of steaming venison, honeyed fruits, and warm bread. Laughter rose and fel

he noise, a clear, confiden

efully, with her every move deliberate and calculated. The flickering candlelight caught on the edges of her elab

her voice echoing just enough to turn head

efore she smiled wider, her eyes sweepi

ture of this kingdom, he who will lead us with the strength and honor

at people offer when they aren't sure if it's safe not to. People clapped, smiled

nced at Tristan, who offered a polite raise of his glass in return. The smirk that followed

rned slightly to glance at Orion. Her brow fur

n didn't

t scowl

e room had gone silent and vanished around him. As if non

down again, he

s, laughing gently as they left the hall. One by one, they stepped into the cool night, where royal guards hande

ace, casting long, shifting shad

g toward the gates, a sharp voice c

re! Girl

turned,

his hand extended, and the other

d her chest was rising and falling too quickly. In her

lipped slightly in her grasp, nearly falling.

me the

candal, suspici

he doing

eal

even fo

h joy now stepped back, as if disgrace wer

y now hovered on the edge of chaos, unr