Iron Howl’s great hall stank of iron and fear. Torches burned low, but it was my fire that lit the room. Wolves stood packed shoulder to shoulder, every rank and house pressed into the circle of judgment.

Kael sat upon the throne, pale, his scar flickering with a dim inner light. He looked carved from agony, yet still king.

I stood before him, flame wreathing my hands, cloak heavy across my shoulders. The unborn stirred within me, restless, eager.

Tonight, there would be no whispers. ...