I couldn't sleep.
Not even for a second.
The moon had long since set, and dawn had painted the sky in muted hues, but I had remained wide awake, staring at the ceiling of my chambers, my thoughts a tangled mess.
Now, I stood in his study once again, the very air within these walls thick with the scent of burning wood and old parchment.
My hands were clasped behind my back, my spine straight, my expression schooled into calm indifference. But beneath it all, I was falling apart.
My father sat at his desk, his piercing gaze unreadable as he regarded me.
"You did well in the tournament," he said, his tone measured, firm. "The pack was impressed."
I inclined my head slightly, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Thank you, Father."
He leaned back in his chair, studying me as if calculating something. The flickering candlelight cast sharp shadows across his face, making the lines of his features even more severe.
"But strength alone is not enough to lead."
