Bound moon
He wore the simple, dark leathers of a warrior, his gaze fixed on the delegates with a calm, terrifying intensity.
The leader of the Blood Moon pack, a scarred wolf named Kael, stepped forward. He looked at Lucian, then at me, a cruel smile twisting his lips.
"The King returns to his dog house," Kael sneered. "And he brings his little toy with him. Do you think we don't know the state of your blood, little moon? We heard the rumors. The King is dying. The Moonveil is pregnant. The Ashmoor throne is ripe for the picking."