The morning sun broke over the snowbound spires of Blackfang Ridge with a pale, deceptive tranquility that belied the gathering storm of war. In the master bedchamber, the soft golden light filtered through the arched lancet windows, illuminating the tangled black wolf pelts and the peaceful, sleeping form of the newly mated sovereigns. Cassian lay on his back, his massive chest rising and falling in deep, restful rhythms, his arm…
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