Rhydian Arkwright received the first security report at eleven forty-two.
No movement at the western gate. No unknown vehicles or trace of the men who had attacked the forestry lane.
He read the report twice because Vespera Morcant currently could not scent any of those dangers herself.
Orren Arkwright stood at the far end of the western gallery, removing mud from his boots with a folded cloth.
“You have a command room,” he said.
“I am aware.”
“It contains chairs.”
“This gallery contains one.”
The chair outside Vespera’s corridor was too narrow through the shoulders and old enough to complain whenever Rhydian shifted.
Orren glanced toward the guest-room entrance.
“She asked for no Alpha guard inside.”
“I am outside.”
“She also asked for Beta watch.”
“The Betas are at both ends
