“Expect contact within the week.” I step away from the table, letting the lie hang in the air. My father would never agree to sending Harper instead of retrieving Astra, but they don’t need to know that.
I stride out of the hall, leaving behind Harper’s angry sobs and the stunned silence of a pack that has just watched their carefully laid plans crumble.
The evening air carries the scent of smoke and roasted meat from the feast as I head toward the Wyvern Woods. The scent trail from the masking potion is two days old, but my enhanced senses can still detect the faint chemical signature where it was used. I’m examining the disturbed earth at the forest’s edge when I catch motion in my peripheral vision.
It’s Daciana, her warrior’s posture rigid with barely controlled fury. She’s watching
