Petal's POV

Sleep refused to come that night.

Even with the moon high and bright outside my window, my mind would not still. The memory of the border camp burned behind my eyes, the way the sick wolves had recovered after I’d switched the water. Not after the herbs. Not after anything I’d done.

The water.

Someone was poisoning the pack. And every time another wolf fell ill, the blame curved toward me like an arrow seeking its mark.

I rose quietly from the cot, wrapping a cloak around ...