Wren’s POV
They hold the council in the long hall at Ravencross, and they don’t invite me.
I find out because Rhys tells me, which I’m learning is what Rhys does. He appears at the kitchen door with two cups of something hot and the expression of a man who has decided to be useful in a way his Alpha won’t enjoy.
“Second bell,” he says. “Twelve of them. The senior families, the quartermaster, two of the border captains.”
“And me?”
“You’re the subject.” He hands me a cup. “Nobody invites the subject.”
“Did he say that, or did the council?”
“Council. He didn’t fight it as hard as he might have.”
That’s the sentence that gets me up out of the chair.
Nine days here and I’ve mapped this house the way I mapped Garrick’s, because that’s what you do, that’s what six years builds into you.
