Talia arrived moments after the nanny cam caught the newest incident.
She didn’t walk.
She ran—wolf-speed down stone corridors, past guards who snapped to attention and then struggled to keep up. Her bare feet struck the floor like thunder. Her lungs burned. Her body still ached from healing magic and childbirth, but fury carried her where exhaustion could not.
When she reached the nursery doors, she shoved them open.
Heat rolled out first—stale and smoky, clinging to the air like a warning.
The walls were scorched again.
Not a singe. Not an accident.
A long black streak clawed up the stone near the toy shelves, and fire dragged across the wall as if by an invisible hand. It was the fifth time in as many months. The toys were ruined—again. A wooden wolf puzzle had melted into a warp
