Dorian‘s pov.

The warm glow of lanterns flickered through the windows of the tavern as I pushed open the door. For once, I had arrived before Cassian. That alone was strange enough to make me frown. Usually, he was already seated, boots up on the table, drink in hand, waving like a lunatic. Not tonight.

I made my way to the bar and ordered a tall mug of ale. The tavern buzzed with laughter and music. Familiar faces filled the room—pack warriors, hunters, councilmen. Many of ...