Emily Rosewood's Point Of View.
Raven Hollow, three nights after the Trial.
The moon hung high and swollen, a coin of molten silver poured across the treetops. The pack’s celebration had begun to dwindle; the great bonfires were sinking into beds of ruby coals, and the last drunken songs had faded into soft, sleepy howls. Yet the air still crackled, as if the Hollow itself had not decided to rest.
I stood at the edge of the largest fire, close enough that the heat kissed my cheeks and made the bruises from the Trial throb in a strangely comforting way. The pack’s approval wrapped around me like warm wool, but inside my chest something cold kept uncoiling.
Sebastian found me without making a sound. One moment I was alone with the flames; the next his arm slid around my waist, solid and
