Kael’s POV

The rogues lay scattered, their blood already cooling in the dirt. Mira wiped her blade without looking at me. Her shoulders were rigid, her pulse was still.

Mira approached, but I shifted my hand, covering the mark before she noticed. She asked if I was injured.

The metal was old, carved with the Windermere crest, half-sun, half-claw. My wolf stirred restlessly, growling low. He didn’t like what it meant either.

Cyrus arrived with his men, scanning the clearing. “Report,” ...