Chapter thirty four
Alaric stood on the hill just before sunrise. His silhouette looked exactly as I remembered—broad shoulders, raven-dark hair tied at the nape, and those eyes. Eyes that had once been soft when he read me stories as a girl. Now they burned with something darker. Resentment. Or worse… purpose. Kael flanked me as we rode toward the ridge, flanked by ten of our strongest warriors. The others waited behind, weapons ready, arrows tipped in wolfsbane. Kael had not taken chances. But neither had I. “Wait here,” I said to the others and stepped forward. Alaric didn’t move. Behind him were six rogues—wolves cloaked in black, wearing the insignia of no known pack. “So,” he said. “You’re alive.” “I could say the same.” He chuckled, bitter. “They told me you died in the river. That your body w
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