SIGRUN
The heavy iron-reinforced oak doors of the castle were already thrown wide by the time I made it past Marta. I didn’t stop to think about Northern court rules, or whether the Alpha’s wife was supposed to stay indoors during a crisis.
I stepped out onto the wide stone landing at the castle entrance, the freezing northern air instantly biting through the fabric of my dress.
Down in the courtyard, a convoy of horses and armored men had ground to a halt.
There were easily forty to fifty of them, and every single one looked utterly spent. Their cloaks were caked in dried mud and stained dark with frozen slush. Their faces were hollow, their eyes staring blankly at nothing, jawlines rigid with an exhaustion that went straight to the bone.
Two men at the front of the line—both massiv
