The cabin feels wrong the second I step inside. Guards track dirt across the floor; someone in the kitchen is laughing, grating on my nerves.
I ignore all of it.
I walk straight to the sick bay.
Elara is there. Of course, she is.
She stands on the counter, grinding something that smells like rot and metal. She does not look up when I enter. Not even when the door shuts behind me.
“You are awake,” I say.
“Neither are you,” scraped. Scrape. “Is your girl keeping you busy?”
I exhale slowly, forcing control into my voice. “She cannot keep anything down. Three bites of eggs, and she is on her knees. Dry heaving until she is shaking.”
The grinding stops.
Elara lifts her head.
“So?” she asks.
My jaw tightens. “Her veins are spreading. She heard her wolf last night. Actually heard it. T
