Chrysantha's POV
The moon hung high, pale and cold, spilling silver across the courtyard of the Iron Fang packhouse. My heels clicked against the stone floor as I moved through the silent halls like a storm contained within silk. Rage hummed in my chest, hot and violent, drowning out the whispers of servants who dared to glance at me.
My hand tightened around the small vial in my pocket. Wolf’s bane, potent and deadly. The faint purple glow of the liquid throbbed against my palm like a secret heartbeat. It was my weapon, my vengeance, the answer to the humiliation Elara had dealt me.
Yet here I was, prowling toward Henry’s private chambers, where the little wretch was locked away.
Elara.
The name tasted like poison on my tongue. The so-called true mate. The mother of Henry’s cursedl
