Third Person’s POV
Prisci gazed at the painting for a while, resting her chin on her hand, when suddenly she became anxious. Though she knew little about art, she understood these oil paintings were invaluable.
If she sent them to Madison as demanded, they’d likely never return.
Yet refusing might provoke who–knows–what schemes from Madison and her daughter.
Before long, a messenger arrived and said, “A message from Alpha Adide: if thedies wish to continue viewing the paintings, they’re invited to the Frostfang Pack. She and Mr. Neil await them graciously.
“I’m in!”
Doug’s granddaughter Abigail blurted out without a second thought, decorum forgotten.
The chance to meet Mr. Neil–what did propriety matter?
Lycan Erasmus was also there, and many genuinely wished to meet Mr. Neil. They all agreed to go.
An omega asked Prisci, “Shall I prepare the carriage?”
Prisci was torn. As the host, she’d lost the focus of the event to the Frostfang Pack.
Now Lycan Erasmus and the Royal Council members were there. If she didn’t go, <b>she’d </b>seem petty.
“Prepare the carriage,” she gritted out.
As she climbed in, she suddenly realized–had she walked into Adide’s trap?
Today was her banquet, yet the spotlight had shifted to the Frostfang Pack.
A few paintings had turned the tide, which enraged her further.
But there was no turning back. She had to go. If Adide dared to offend Lycan Erasmus and the officials, Prisci would make her pay.
To her surprise, Adide greeted her personally at the Packhouse door.
As Prisci exited the carriage, Adide offered her arm, smiling warmly: “Watch your step. I <i>you </i>in.”
Prisci had braced for a cold reception but was caught off–guard by this warmth.
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She quickly reminded herself of her seniority–it was only proper to be treated this way<b>–</b><b>and </b><b>epted </b>the assistance<b>, </b>entering in her plum–red velvet <b>gown </b>and fox–fur cloak.
In the conference hall, Lycan Erasmus, the Royal Council President, numerous <b>government </b><b>officials</b><b>, </b><b>and </b>even her son Lance, were present. Lance was conversing with a handsome <b>man </b><b>in blue </b>
Everyone rose to greet <b>Prisci</b>, including Erasmus.
<b>Her </b>spirits lifted–while she often mingled with nobility, interactions with political <b>figures </b><b>were </b>rare
Their respect swelled her pride, and she promptly dismissed her earlier annoyance, <b>returning </b><b>their </b>courtesies and taking her seat of honor.
Never before had she received such joint acim from government officials and the legendary <b>painter </b>Mr. Neil.
This distinction warmed her to Adide, though she’d never admit it beyond a grudging fraction.
After the Frostfang Pack’s omega served Ennd–style tea and retreated, Craig approached Adide <b>and </b>murmured, “Excessive ttery can be the surest way to undermine someone.
Adide suppressed augh–who said Craig was oblivious <i>to </i>social nuances?
“You’ll coexist with her in the same pack eventually. She’s the mother of your future mate. Confrontation won’t serve you,” he cautioned.
Craig continued in a low voice, “As for the royalty here, you’ll interact with them often. Today’s exhibition<b>. </b>paves the way for you. I hope you don’t disappoint my intentions. Try not to resort to force in future dealings.”
Adide felt a mix of gratitude and helplessness–did Craig really see <b>her </b>as <b>so </bbative?
Since returning from the Shadow Peaks, she’d diligently studied etiquette.
During her year in the Bloodmoon Pack, she’d mastered capital–city diplomacy.
It wasn’t fear of offending others, but concern for Cedric, that made her restrain <b>her </b>sharp edges. Even Prisci now seemed somewhat more ptable.
Lycan Erasmus was wholly absorbed in the paintings, his gaze locked on each oil painting as if in a trance. He red at anyone attempting toment.
“Comment? Who’s qualified to critique Mr. <b>Neil’s </b>work?”
Even President Cyrus was driven away. “Admire something else. I wish to savor these alone. So many gathered here for a single piece?”
Cyrus retreated, having merely wanted to revisit the snow<b>–</b>scene painting.
He turned to the plum–blossom oil painting, acknowledging Neil’s mastery with strokes so delicate they seemed lifelike.
More intriguing were the border town–themed works: two inly dressed yet tidy we wooden buckets <i>to </i>a well, a newly dug vige well in a border town. Ordinary life dep underscored the peace’s value tomon wolves.
After a long gaze, Cyrus asked Craig, “Mr. Neil, might I purchase one of your paintings<b>?</b><b>” </b>
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All eyes turned to Craig, even Erasmus showing <b>eager </b>
tion.
As Lycan Erasmus, he could ask for a gift, but in his role as Council President, <b>he </b><b>sought </b><b>to </b><b>buy</b>.
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Craig smiled. “Cyrus, I can’t decide that. These paintings are gifted to Adide. If she’s willing to sell, I have no objections.”
The crowd’s attention shifted to Adide, their eyes pleading.
One after another approached her, each requesting just one painting, unable to afford more.
Adide understood this was Craig boosting her prestige.