Page 26 of Blood Marked

The council floor had never been so still.

For once, no one was shouting. No posturing warlord pounding his fists on the carved stone table, no veiled threats laced in honeyed tones. Just murmurs and wine being poured. Silver plates glinting in low firelight. Winter light trickling through the narrow upper windows like it had forgotten how to shine properly.

Selene was across the room, dressed in pale lavender—subtle, elegant, not quite traditional Fenrir garb but close enough to pass. She was speaking to one of the shifter ambassadors. Kael watched her from where he leaned against the far column, arms crossed, pretending not to pay attention.

She was composed. Courteous. Her tone low and diplomatic. Her posture still too stiff for someone who claimed she didn’t care what anyone here thought—but better. Controlled. Regal, almost.

She had adapted to this world faster than anyone had expected.

The thought was starting to scare him.

Because he’d seen what happened to people who thrived in these halls. What they had to lose to survive here.

Kael’s jaw flexed as the ambassador’s hand drifted a little too close to Selene’s arm again. The noble smiled too easily, too long. Selene didn’t flinch, but Kael’s wolf stirred under his skin like it was listening for trouble.

Still, it was just a harmless conversation.

Just a calm day in court.

Until the scent hit him.

Blood.

Not wine. Not meat. Not the vague iron tang that lingered after training or too many egos collided.

Real. Fresh. Human.

The metallic sting sliced through the perfumed air like a dagger to the ribs—so sharp it stole the breath from his lungs.

Kael moved.

He didn’t think.

Didn’t call for guards.

Didn’t shout.

His body just reacted.

In one heartbeat, Selene was still standing, head tilted, gaze focused, listening politely.

In the next, a flicker of movement.

A shadow breaking from the edge of the gallery. Cloaked. Hooded. Moving too fast to be stopped. A glint of steel in a pale hand.

Kael roared across the chamber.

“Selene!”

But it was too late.

The blade struck.

A sickening, fleshy thud.

The assassin drove the dagger up under Selene’s ribs. Not a slash. A targeted, brutal stab.

Selene gasped. Her whole body jerked, back arching with the impact. For a second, it looked like she might stay upright.

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