The heavy footsteps of Elder Thomas and Lady Valerie faded into the guest wing, leaving me alone in the dimly lit foyer. My hands were finally shaking. I needed to get to my room, lock the door, and breathe before the sheer weight of the night crushed me.
I turned toward the staircase, only to freeze.
Draven was standing at the top of the landing. He hadn't gone to his room. He was leaning against the mahogany railing, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his shadow stretching long and menacing across the floor. From his vantage point, he had heard every single word.
"Frosthounds," he said, his voice a low, dangerous vibration. "The elders are more desperate than I thought if they’re inviting northern vultures to nest in my house."
"They aren't just nesting, Draven," I said, my voice
