The fortress walls had always been carved from stone so thick they swallowed sound. Elaria had learned, in her weeks trapped here, that silence was not peace—it was simply the fortress’ nature. No matter how heated an argument or how loud a sparring match, the noise always seemed to sink into the stones, leaving only an echo.
But tonight the stones did not hold it.
Whispers vibrated through the castle. They gathered in hallway corners, slithered down hallways, and floated through stairwells. Elaria could sense the hum of disquiet everywhere she looked—wolves huddled together, talking softly, and frequently turning to stare at the Alpha's wing.
Toward Draven.
She had been reluctant to part from him. When she applied the final healing rune to his ribs, his skin was slick with perspira
