Celeste
Tyler.
He was standing at the edge of the square. Same face. Same easy posture. But his eyes were wrong. Dark where they should have been warm. Hard where they should have been laughing.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Long story. But I’m helping my people.” I was scanning him, trying to understand. Something underneath his surface was making my wolf flatten her ears.
“Your people?”
“I’m engaged to the king of Specter.”
Tyler’s face changed. Something ugly flickered behind it.
And I could feel it now. Under his skin. The cold, oily trace of Braum’s influence, threaded through Tyler’s heart like dark vines through a wall. My wolf recoiled.
He’s been touched, she said. Not controlled. Invited. He let it in.
“What are you doing here, Tyler? Why are you here?” My voice
