“Over here, Lyra,” Nessa calls out to me, so I still myself and walk up to her, ignoring the nasty looks I was getting from the she-wolves in the dining room.

What was the deal with them?

Nessa hands a plate over to me, and we stuff our plates with our food. I follow her to a vacant table and sit down to bury my attention in my food. As if the glares were not enough, the women began to whisper among themselves as they were all paired, but I chose to ignore them.

Then the smell hits me, my ...