Mara's POV
The thing about Adrian was that he had never needed to be told twice.
She had always respected that about him. His decisions landed clean and final, no second-guessing, no visible doubt. She had admired it for years—the way he moved through a room like everything else was already arranged around him, the way his silence carried more weight than most people's declarations. She had admired it, and she had been patient with it, and she had waited.
And then he had carried a bleeding wolf through the front doors of the Crimson Court and laid her down in his chambers like she belonged there.
Mara set her cup down on the table.
"The report came in an hour ago," she said, without turning from the window. Outside, the inner courtyard moved in its usual patterns—servants
