Third Person’s POV


    Others might not know, but Prisci was well aware that Lance nned to bond with Adide.


    “Eternal Night Lone Wolf?”


    Isn’t this indirectly cursing Lance to an early death?


    Though intimidated by Madison, Prisci couldn’t help but question indignantly.


    +10 Free <b>Coins </b>


    Madison’s gaze turned cold, her wolf–head ring striking the table with a grating sound, “Prisci, you don’t even know the truth. What are you bbering about? Did you see me give Aire the silver wolf–head


    statue?”


    Prisci’s neck nd sweated coldly from panic. She instinctively nced at Adide.


    The silver–blue gleam in her wolf eyes, like the fangs of an ice–in wolf, choked back her retort.


    Madison shifted her re to Adide, her pheromones erupting in sulfur–tinged fury. “I have no beef with the Frostfang Pack’s Davis family. Why are you ndering me in front of everyone?”


    “If you can produce that silver wolf–head statue, so be it. If not, it’s a malicious defamation, and I’ll have you cklisted in royal circles!”


    Surrounded by Lycan aura, she attempted to suppress Adide with royal blood.


    But Adide merely chuckled, her cedar pheromones bursting like a blizzard. “Princess Madison’s ‘gift‘ was long received by my mother. If guests wish to see it, they can visit the Frostfang territory. I’ll disy it on the Frostfang altar.”


    Her finger brushed the wolf–head dagger at her waist. “As for whether Madison gifted it, the carver from the Northern Peaks is still mining there. Verification is simple. After all, only you would bestow such a morally bankrupt blessing.”


    “Outrageous!” Madison mmed the table and stood, her pheromones nearly tangible with rage. “Are you forcing me to admit this? What about Eternal Night Lone Wolf? What about morality? I say your Frostfang Pack is the one that’s……”


    “What’s that supposed to mean?”


    Adide stepped forward, her wolf ws extending three inches beneath her sleeve. “Are we heartless? Or immoral? Countless enemy wolves have fallen to my family’s des, but every kill was to protect the kingdom.”


    Her voice dropped to a lupine growl, “Princess Madison, you enjoy peace in the capital, hostingvish birthday parties annually. My parents‘ blood and sweat are part of that peace. As royalty, you show no gratitude to fallen warriors yet spew curses. If this gets out, how can wolf warriors dare fight for the kingdom again?<b>” </b>


    This usation of “disregarding sacrifices” hit hard. Madison’s face purpled with fury, but she stayed


    silent.


    She roared instead: “Nonsense! Stop using this to oppress me. Unroll that scroll! Let’s see if she’s cursed me in the painting!”


    To Madison, Adide’s mention of the silver wolf–head statue meant the birthday gift likely held deeper humiliation.


    Most guests shared this suspicion.


    Those disliking Madison sighed inwardly–Adide’s retaliation was justified but tactless.


    Wanda could no longer contain herself. She snatched the scroll and wed three white stripes down the silk. “I’ll unroll it! Adide, if there’s a curse in this birthday gift, I’ll make sure you pay with your life.”


    As the scroll unfurled, gasps filled the hall.


    On the half–meter–square canvas, a cluster of mountain ash bloomed quietly. The butter–yellow petals‘ gradient was exquisitely detailed, even the calyx fuzz was visible.


    A realistic butterfly in the top–left corner seemed about to take flight.


    The painting, with its soft colors and lively brushwork, blended realism and tension, clearly the work of a


    master.


    Art–savvy guests eximed, “Is this Craig’s work? I’ve seen his Aster series at exhibitions. The technique for depicting petal gradients matches perfectly! And the signature… yes, it’s Craig’s!”


    Rosemary’s heart ached. She recognized the painting from the Bloodmoon Pack’s Packhouse study.


    Seeing Madison’s stunned expression, she regretted her actions.


    Initially, they’d driven Adide away for Velda, losing a fortune in the process.


    “No, this isn’t a genuine Craig masterpiece,” Veronica Francis said, rising and shaking her head.


    Her white musk pheromones radiated connoisseur confidence. “The brushwork resembles his, but it’s a forgery. Craig never used impasto for insects. He preferred zing to highlight organic luster.”


    As Lycan Luna Cami’s cousin and Silverfeather Pack’s Luna, known for her talent and discernment, the guests trusted her judgment.


    Veronica’s words settled the matter.


    The crowd erupted in chatter.


    “Using a forgery for a birthday gift? How shameless!”


    “Better <b>to </b>send nothing than a forgery–it’s an insult!”


    Chapter


    apter 148


    “But the painting’s <b>so </b>exquisite… seems unlikely to be fake.”


    “A forgery’s a forgery! How could Veronica be wrong?”