The morning sun hit the dusty floor of the training arena with a harsh, unforgiving glare, but the heat did nothing to warm the cold tension radiating from Elena.
She stood near the high stone railing of the spectator’s stands, her fingers digging into the rough rock until her knuckles turned a ghostly white.
Below them, the pack was beginning to gather for the morning drills—warriors sharpening blades, women gossiping in hushed whispers, and children running through the dirt—but Elena saw none of it.
Her eyes were fixed on the empty space where her husband, was supposed to be standing.
Beside her, Bianca leaned back against a timber post, her dark eyes scanning the crowd with a predatory boredom.
She fanned herself with a silk handkerchief, though the air was brisk.
“He’s still no
