Lyan stood still for a moment, his senses tingling as he felt an instinctive pull from the depths of his mind—a signal from his winter wolves stationed outside the castle. It wasn't a message conveyed in words or even coherent thoughts. It was more like a wave of primal instinct washing over him. The scent of someone unfamiliar, mingled with the trail of the fleeing noblewoman, was clear in his mind. The wolves had picked up the scent, and they were ready, restless. Time was of the essence.
Lyan's gaze flickered over to the shattered window. He could feel the excitement in his wolves—the thrill of the hunt, the urgency of pursuit. There was no time for hesitation. Whoever was behind this, whoever had dared to make such a move during the banquet, they needed to be caught. His hands tightened into fists, his decision made in an instant.