My claws hang over Caelan's head.
One inch. Silver claws, ten inches long, dripping my own silver blood from spear wound in shoulder.
Below claws, Caelan stands. No shift. No weapon. Hands down, not even guarding.
He looks up at me, huge wolf standing on two legs, fire in my throat, roar still echoing off stone.
"Ella," he says again. Quiet. So quiet only I hear under ringing in ears. "Come back."
Behind him, Miriam cowers on Elder seat. Behind her, crowd screams, runs, wolves shift.
Above, Rhea leans on rail, white dress, whispers, "Now kill them, sister."
Inside, Lyra roars, Kill them! Kill them all like they killed pups!
Two voices pulling. Caelan pulling one way with quiet. Rhea pulling other with sweet poison.
I am in middle, small. Ella in middle of two giant wolves in my ow
