The morning light filtering through the tall, narrow windows of the Master suite was a cold, unforgiving gray.
I woke up with a gasp, my chest feeling as though it were bound in iron bands. My throat was raw, and every breath still carried the faint, metallic tang of silver dust. But I was alive.
The chamber was silent. Silas wasn't in the massive bed beside me. But through the electric thread of our blood pact, I could feel the suffocating weight of his stress. It was a dark, jagged pressure pressing against the back of my mind.
He was in the Great Hall. And he was surrounded by wolves who wanted answers.
I pushed the heavy furs off my body, my limbs shaking with a deep, bone-deep exhaustion. The pack's apothecary had spent the night forcing bitter, black herbs down my throat to neutr
