I stared out the window of the palace library, my thoughts as turbulent as the gathering clouds outside. Three days had passed since my argument with Kaelen about the diplomatic mission, and my anger hadn't faded. If anything, it had crystallized into something harder, sharper.
The massive library would normally have filled me with wonder—floor-to-ceiling shelves lined with ancient tomes, spiraling staircases, and ornate ladders to reach the highest books. But today, the grandeur only emphasized how small and powerless I felt.
"You're staying here where it's safe," Kaelen had said, his voice leaving no room for argument. As if I were a child. As if I hadn't already proven myself capable.
I ran my fingers along the spines of books about Vanaran history, not really seeing them. My wolf paced restlessly within me, equally agitated by Kaelen's high-handedness.
*We should confront him again,* she urged.
"What's the point?" I muttered aloud to the empty room. "His mind is made up."
