Arlo
Is he sick? Was he poisoned? What in the hells was happening right now?
I charged toward Gunnar, my boots echoing sharply against the cold flagstones, my mind spiraling into a panicked frenzy. This moment, this beautiful humiliation, was meant to be my grand victory. I had set the trap, baited the hooks, and watched as the stray was dragged down to the dark cells. But I didn’t want a victory marred by stains. If Gunnar collapsed and died here, before the High Council could hear of his failure, the court would turn its gaze toward me. The lords would whisper. They would investigate. I would be held responsible.
Did the stray wolf do something to him before she was taken? Did she poison him in his sleep?
“Gunnar!” I shouted, watching my massive brother slump lower against the wall.
