Greyson’s POV
Victory had a foul smell.
Blood.
Smoke.
Burned timber.
Fear lingering in the air long after the enemy fled.
I stood in the ruined western courtyard while warriors dragged bodies, extinguished fires, and carried wounded toward the healers’ wing. My shoulder burned where the spear had torn through it, but I ignored it.
Pain could wait.
Everything could wait.
Except her.
Zara sat wrapped in a dark cloak near the shattered fountain, Laura kneeling beside her with water and trembling hands. She looked exhausted, pale, and entirely too calm for a woman who had just announced herself to half the supernatural world with a pillar of moonlight.
Every few seconds someone glanced at her.
Some in awe.
Some in fear.
Some in devotion.
I disliked all of it.
Mine, Sky growled.
