The castle had quieted, but the air still tasted of ash.
Servants moved like ghosts through the halls, sweeping away blood, dragging the bodies of fallen warriors and what remained of the hollows. No one spoke loudly. Even the survivors barely whispered. The night had scarred them. And though morning light touched the highest spires, it brought no warmth.
In the shattered kitchen, with soot-stained walls and a table cracked down the middle, Rose stood beside her mates. The scent of charred bread clung to the air. A pot lay overturned on the floor, its contents dried to stone. None of them had eaten.
She leaned against the counter, her green eyes scanning what was left. “This is where we make our plans now?” she asked, voice tired but steady.
“No better place,” Marcus muttered. “It's br
