The scent of pine, ozone, and fresh blood hung heavy over the snow-covered clearing at the edge of the Whitmore woods. The Winter Hunt was underway, and the forest echoed with the distant, thundering howls of the pack’s elite warriors chasing down their quarry.
I stood near the staging pavilion, my hands tucked into the pockets of a thick wool coat. I had purposely chosen not to shift. Shifting meant exposing my wolf’s physical form a form that carried the distinct, unmistakable build of a Nightveil royal. In human guise, with my scent heavily masked by the herbal tonic I brewed in secret, I was invisible.
Or so I hoped.
"A dangerous game you're playing, Aurora," a smooth, dangerous voice purred from the shadows of the tree line.
I didn't need to look up to know who it was. Lady Valeri
