Lyra’s POV
The next morning brought unseasonably warm weather and what felt like a collective pack decision to pretend yesterday’s drama had never happened.
Which was fine by me.
I was helping in the kitchens, grateful for the mindless work of chopping vegetables, when I spotted Kelvin through the window. He was pacing back and forth near the herb gardens, running his hands through his hair in a way that screamed nervous energy.
“Poor guy,” Sarah, the head cook, said, following my gaze. “Been out there for twenty minutes working up courage.”
“Courage for what?”
“To talk to that new girl, obviously. Half the pack’s been taking bets on when he’d finally make his move.”
I nearly dropped my knife. “Bets?”
“Oh yes. Young love is always entertaining.” Sarah grinned. “My money was on him
