Chapter 21 · The Trial

"You bring a hunter into our hall."

The words hit before Rena's eyes adjust to the dark. The council hall smells like old wood and blood baked into the walls. Five elders sit in a half-circle. Gray-haired. Stone-faced. The one in the middle—Elder Gareth—watches her like she's prey that hasn't figured out it's already caught.

Cain doesn't flinch. "I bring my mate."

"Your mate." Gareth spits the word. "The same hunter who killed three of our scouts last year?"

Rena's jaw tightens. She wants to say she killed more than three. She wants to say they deserved it. But Cain's hand moves slightly behind his back—a signal.

She stays quiet.

"She was bitten," Cain says. "The bond chose her. I'm not asking for your approval. I'm informing you."

Gareth leans forward. "Then you won't mind proving it."

Cain's shoulders go rigid. "Prove what?"

"That she's your mate. That this isn't some ploy to buy time before we force you into a proper union with Lydia's bloodline." Gareth's gaze slides to Rena. "Or worse. That she's a spy."

Rena meets his eyes. Doesn't blink. Doesn't look away. If he wants to see a spy, fine.