Kael didn’t ask about the claw mark.
He saw it.
He stared at it.
And then he walked away.
No words. No questions. My fingers were clinched and my jaw was locked so tight that I could see the tendons twitch.
I went into the den's war room with him. It was a long, narrow area where he kept old maps and horrible memories.
“Kael,” I said softly.
He didn’t turn around.
“Talk to me.”
Still nothing.
I walked gently across the room, like I was going to help a hurt animal. He flinched when I touched his shoulder.
“Was it my mark?” I asked.
He finally turned, eyes shadowed and unreadable. “Your blood. Your claw mark. But not your hand.”
I swallowed. “It could’ve been the voice.”
“That’s not good enough anymore, Seren.”
The room fell silent.
My stomach twisted. “You think I let somet
