That noon.
The storm rattled the glass panes of my chamber like the kingdom itself was breaking. Thunder boomed low and hungry, the kind that rumbled in your ribs and warned you that something was about to snap. My head still throbbed from fainting earlier, the Queen’s voice—her poisonous promise—echoing in my skull like an iron brand: Stay silent, girl, or Gregor will hang.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to howl my truth in the council hall. Instead, I sat curled in my chamber, the cryptic note from Zach tucked into my sleeve, my wolf snarling just beneath my skin.
That’s when the door burst open and Sugar flew in like a hurricane.
Her hair was plastered to her cheeks, rain dripping off her cloak, her eyes sharper than the storm outside. “Okay, don’t panic—”
“I wasn’t—”
“No, no,” she
