NYRA

The air in the council room was heavier than it had been, thick with anticipation and accusation. The torches along the walls flickered feebly, their shadows writhing and elongating across the faces of the elders. Each shadow was a stab into me. The elders themselves were tense, statues carved from stone, eyes fixed, unrelenting. And Orren—Orren stood before me like a storm I couldn’t escape or furious, his presence suffocating, biting enough that my wolf snarled.

“You bring only ...