When Fiona stepped out of her car in front of the King's Castle, she wore an elegant business suit. Her royal navy coat, perfectly tailored, was trimmed with silver thread that shimmered when she moved. Beneath it, her style was effortless: high collars, fitted gloves, and jewelry inherited from her ancestors. A single pearl at her throat. A signet ring bearing the Raynor crest. Nothing loud. Everything intentional.
Fiona Elizabeth Raynor, the Ambassador of the Werewolves, head of the Raynor Clan, managed diplomacy with humans, other supernatural beings, and foreign werewolf territories.
Her hair was pinned with precision, not a strand out of place, though the glint in her steel-blue eyes suggested she'd been through storms few could survive. She did not smile often, but when she did, it cut sharper than any fang. She wasn't beautiful in a fragile way… she was the kind of beautiful that made kings hesitate and assassins think twice.
