(Daciana POV)
Gonzalo’s blood was still warm on my dress when the sacred field became a place where every wolf looked at every shadow.
Conri held his captain’s body like a king holding the ruins of his own trust, and nobody dared tell him to let go.
The black bone marrow had torn through Gonzalo’s throat before he could name the spy sleeping beside my door.
Not Rieka.
Not someone else.
Not enough truth.
Only one unfinished word had survived inside the blood between us.
Not.
That word could save Rieka.
That word could accuse someone worse.
That word could be another trap waiting for my tired heart to choose the wrong enemy.
Bardolph stood beside me, one hand still half-raised from pulling me away from the second arrow.
For one heartbeat, I had let him touch me because death had
