Blood soaked the stone beneath my thighs, though Kael’s knot kept me sealed, healing. My breath came shallow, each inhale trembling against his chest.

The child, our child, perched on the cracked throne above us. Its bone wings spread wide, dripping gore, each rib humming with fire.

The wolves dared not move. Their muzzles dripped with each other’s blood. Their bodies trembled.

Then the child spoke not aloud, but into every skull.

Bow. Or break.

One by one, spines bent. Bones cracked. ...