The metallic tang of blood and the bitter scent of ozone lingered in the ruined bedchamber long after Freya dragged the assassins down to the dungeons.
Cold alpine wind howled through the shattered balcony doors, carrying fresh snow across the stone floor. It swirled around the splintered remains of my table and the scorched, ice-crusted hearth. Guards stationed themselves along the corridor, their heavy boots pacing outside as the Citadel shifted into high alert.
I stood near the center of the room, my knuckles white around the hilt of my dagger. My chest heaved with heavy, ragged breaths. Though my magic had receded back beneath my ribs, the skin over my heart still hummed with leftover adrenaline.
Alpha Kaelen remained standing near the destroyed entrance. He hadn't left my side. His
