Third Person’s POV


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    The estate suddenly buzzed with life. Prisci, taking advantage of the fact that Lisa and Prune had some downtime, spent her days chatting with them.


    She would elegantly flutter her feather fan,menting how her life in the capital had kept her from seeing the vast world beyond, and insisted they tell her stories about the border and the Shadow Peaks.


    She didn’t stop there; she practically forced Adide to sit at the tea table with them, sometimes for the entire day,


    There were moments when Adide would hear a military report from outside and her wolf would grow restless, itching to go out and handle business, only to be firmly blocked by Prisci.


    “Adide, sit back down,” Prisci would say, her tone leaving no room for argument while she sipped from a bone–china cup.


    “We have plenty of elite wolves in the pack; does every little thing require your personal touch? It’s a rare asion to have Lisa back from the border and Prune here. Your only mission right now is to sit here, drink your tea, eat your pastries, and clear your head!”


    Faced with Prisci’s forceful hospitality, Adide had no choice but to suppress her frustrated aura and y along.


    But she had to admit–surrounded by the scent of tea, sweets, and the lightheartedughter of these high–born she–wolves, the wolf that had been nearly driven mad by anxiety and hatred grew miraculously calm.


    The agonizing days of waiting for the Western Tribe delegation to reach the capital seemed to pass surprisingly fast.


    Finally, at dawn one morning, Wendy rushed into the estate, soaked in dew, to report: if everything went ording to n, the Western Tribe’s motorcade would reach the capital gates by noon tomorrow.


    That night, Prisci retreated to her dressing room. She shed her mask of the rxed, elegant noblewoman and tiredly rubbed her aching jaw.


    She looked at Susan and let out a long, heavy sigh.


    “I’m sleeping until noon tomorrow. No one is allowed to knock on my door.”


    Susan smiled sympathetically as she helped uce herplex corset.


    “Understood. I’ll tell the kitchen to prep your favorite steak so it’s ready the moment you wake up. You’ve worked so hard these past few days just to keep everyone’s spirits steady.”


    “Huh…” Prisci exhaled, a sh of wisdom and maternal affection in her eyes.


    “The taste of waiting for revenge is what drives a wolf insane. I can’t help with the political chess match, so the only thing I could do was gather her friends and force her to focus on all this nonsense. Otherwise, Adide would have tortured herself into a breakdown before the Westerners even got here.”


    With that, the wise Luna copsed onto her velvet bed and fell into a deep sleep.


    The next day at noon, the bright sun was shielded by a thickyer of clouds.


    <b>1/2 </b>


    3:44 pm


    <i>W </i>


    The Western Tribe’s delegation officially crossed into the capital.


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    Officials from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs were waiting at the gate to lead the massive, exotic–looking convoy toward the heavily guarded guest quarters.


    The Western Tribe’s political system was simr to the North’s, with one key difference: they had no Royal Council.


    Instead, Lycan Erasmus directly led a High Council and the heads of various departments.


    This delegation was massive. It was led by the First Princess, Helia, and Lycan Gamma Damian.


    The entourage included royal advisors Raymond Baldwin and Bobby Potter, Chief Diplomat Emmett Parker, two trantors, the Royal Guard Commander Milo Fernandez, Helia’s private estate guard captain Chad Walton, and three female Lycans.


    Since the names of the three female Lycans had been intentionally left off the official diplomatic roster, the kingdom knew nothing of their backgrounds.


    The rest of the group consisted of over a hundred elite guards, their eyes as sharp and alert as hawks.


    On the terrace of a high–end restaurant near the city gates, Lance, Adide, and Caldwell stood hidden in the shadows. They had used specialized herbs to mask their Alpha and Gamma scents as they watched the procession pass below with cold eyes.


    Princess Helia was dressed in deep purple noble riding gear, sitting tall and straight atop a bay warhorse.


    She was only thirty–two–the peak of a Lycan’s strength and power.


    However, perhaps due to the long journey, her aura felt heavy and sluggish. Her cold, beautiful face showed a weariness she couldn’t hide, making her look a few years older than she actually was.


    “The male wolf on the ck horse behind Helia is Damian,” Caldwell whispered, his golden wolf eyes locked onto the dangerous- looking male.


    “He’s Pierce’s younger brother, but the two have always been at odds. Damian was the one who pushed hardest for war at the Bloodscar border. Now, he’s the one constantly in Lycan Orion’s ear, whispering for him to tear up the ceasefire.”


    “Lycan Orion respects Helia as his older sister, but the only person he truly bowed to was thete Crown Prince. So, Lycan Orion himself is itching for revenge.”


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    <strong>Olivia Harris</strong> is an emerging author celebrated for her captivating romantic and steamy novels. With a talent for crafting deep emotional connections and fiery chemistry between her characters, Olivia’s stories offer readers an escape into worlds filled with passion, intrigue, and heart-stopping drama.


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