Marigold POV

I swear, dawn never looked this cursed.

The sky was that eerie pinkish-gray that screamed something’s about to go to hell, and the air? It reeked of death, wet fur, and whatever perfume of evil the Queen was wearing these days. I could still hear the faint echo of her whispers—soft, sultry, venomous.

“Come home, little wolf. You belong to me…”

Yeah, sure, Your Royal Corpse-ness. I’ll come home—right after I shove a silver dagger through your undead heart.

We ...