WREN'S POV
The summons for the elders' meal came the next evening, delivered not by a silent escort but by Torrin himself, who found me in the garden where I'd taken to spending the hour before dusk since Bram had first shown it to me. He held his hands loosely clasped in front of him, an old habit of formality that seemed to live in every line of him.
"The Alpha requests your presence at the long table tonight," he said. "The pack elders will be attending."
"That sounds like something other than a request."
"It is, and it isn't." A faint, dry humor moved behind his eyes, gone as quickly as it came. "The Alpha asked me to tell you plainly that you're free to decline. He also asked me to tell you, just as plainly, that declining will not make the elders' questions disappear. Only delay
