Her voice. Her anger. The feel of her hands hitting him. He remembered the sharp pain in his back and the warmth in her breath. She had bitten his tail—he remembered that clearly. He'd tried to stop her, lifted his hand—and touched something soft. So soft it made his head spin. Smoother than her waist when his tail had wrapped around her. Then she'd gotten even angrier. She'd bitten his face, yanked his whisker, and kicked him for good measure. When he woke up, Thero told him he'd blacked out in Emma's house and that she'd ordered people to carry him home. Now, sitting here, Drake's chest burned. He'd come to apologize, but instead, he'd stolen her drink, lost control, and probably made a complete fool of himself."Is that Marcus?" Emma's voice pulled him back. He straightened fast, every muscle tensing. She walked in with Lucien, Edric, and Silas, her gaze fixed on the coffin. She didn't even look his way. Her attention was all on the wolf inside—barely breathing, barely alive. Her eyes gleamed with curiosity, her lips parting in wonder. It was as if what happened the night before had never happened. She looked… captivated. Drake's jaw clenched hard. What was so fascinating about that dying wolf? He couldn't even stand upright half the time. Every word out of his mouth sounded like a curse. What could she possibly see in him? The crystal coffin's lid stood open. Emma stepped forward, her eyes drawn to the man lying inside.Light caught on the coffin's sharp edges, scattering across its surface like shards of ice. The glow wrapped around the figure within, making his pale robe look unreal—like a dream carved from moonlight. His clothes were white, soft, and flowing, almost weightless. Silver thread shimmered along the edges, weaving faint patterns that flickered when the light shifted. It looked as if the stars themselves had been stitched into the fabric. His hair gleamed, not the dull white of age but the color of untouched snow at dawn—clean, bright, almost glowing. A few strands fell across his forehead, brushing against his brow, while the rest spread across the coffin like melted silk pooling on glass. The sight was both stunning and strange, beautiful in a lonely sort of way. Emma blinked, then looked at the old man kneeling beside the coffin. "Is he dead?" she asked, her voice flat. If he was, it would at least explain his silence.Lucien's eyes narrowed, and his tone turned cold. "What's the meaning of this, Frostveil? You came here to hand over a corpse to my huntress?" The elder flinched. "No, no, he's not dead!" He straightened up fast, realizing who he was talking to—and who was standing behind her. "You must be Ms. Emma Tibarn!" he said, forcing a shaky smile. "I'm Roshivo Crowe, Frostveil's Grand Elder." He gestured to the man in the coffin, sweat beading at his temples. "This is our heir, Marcus. The strongest Rank 11 male of the Frostveil Wolf King line." Emma frowned. "If he's alive, why is he in a coffin?" She'd read about Frostveil on her lightcore. Crystal coffins were for funerals, not naps. Roshivo hesitated, his smile stiff. "Well… he enjoys resting in it." Emma just stared.Who slept in a coffin by choice? That wasn't rest. That was a red flag. Silas circled the coffin slowly, his lips curved in a teasing smile. "Grand Elder, if your heir isn't dead and my huntress is already here, maybe it's time to wake him up." He leaned casually against a pillar. "It's rude to keep her waiting. Or does Frostveil treat all their huntresses like this?" Roshivo laughed nervously and waved his hands. "No, no! Of course not! He'll wake soon, I swear." He turned back to Emma quickly, eager to redirect the attention. "While we wait, Ms. Tibarn, why don't I show you the wedding gift we've brought?" He produced a shining list and handed it to her with a salesman's grin. "These may be wedding gifts, but they're gifts from our king himself," he said proudly."We brought ten Level 11 beast cores." Emma's eyes widened. One Level 11 core was rare enough to start a war. Ten was absurd. The elder's grin stretched wider. "We've also brought ten crates of Rank Ten and Rank Nine beast cores and insect cores. "Enough for you and all your mates to use freely." He puffed out his chest. "And if that's still not enough, Ms. Tibarn, just say the word. We'll send more right away."