“And if she names him?” Grayson asked. “If she claims him before the chamber?”
A dark, familiar heat uncurled in my chest.
For half a second, Willow’s face flashed in my mind—not as she had looked when she ran, but before. Younger. Softer. Staring up at me with that wary, wounded sort of hope she’d never been smart enough to kill quickly. She had belonged to me long before she understood what that meant, and the thought steadied me.
“She won’t,” I said.
Vivienne’s presence behind me sharpened slightly, a change so small most wouldn’t have noticed it.
I ignored it. Even if Willow had found her spine in Crescent Peak, even if Damian had filled her head with enough righteous nonsense to make her stand in that chamber and try to spit in my face, there were some lines wolves did not cross
