The Wolf King's Daughter

d me I w

king into the earth of Crescent Vale, and the final, whisp

not a ghost. Not a

s that surround the place I was born

ped birthmark at the base of my spine, the only proof

, calm, but it makes my skin crawl. I

ill breathes." My voice sounds sharper th

ir as wild as a storm and eyes that pierce like cold steel. R

s almost a whisper, but it carries a we

, but even as the word leaves my m

rching, trying to find something benea

t. Everyone thinks the

I say, stepping forward.

ret? I can't tell. But before he can ans

e trees, limping badly, its fur matte

ce softening, the fir

nds gentle but firm as he checks t

use every piece of this l

torm in his eyes quieter

in my cheeks, but I h

us says. I can feel it in my bones-the bond that refus

eyes again. "T

ut I know one thing: I'm not

buildings are worn, the streets empty and quiet. Crescen

y face I see carries the weight of fear or suspicion.

oman whispers as

rt races. Every step takes me c

a heavy stone building that once symbolized strength

he worn wood. The hall is dim, lit only by flickering t

for som

n, and I spin arou

light, his eyes sh

you this wasn

warnings." I meet

f pine and earth surrounding

o the large oak table in the center. "But you

ns. "I protect wh

stroyed?" I challenge mysel

eight of the past

ppened," I say softly. "But tha

" he says quietly, almost b

anger flaring. "Orders d

lash with something-pain? S

." My fists clench. "You didn

guage he's tried to forget. "You think y

past the fury twisting inside me. "M

s between us,

is expression soften

to be alone in

t beneath the armor, there's a man who und

need yo

s. "Respect. For w

re inside me burns hot

hall, the wolf pup curled in my lap. Its b

tling down beside me. The space b

back?" he asks, br

h what wa

t if the world you want

prised by the soft

ve it," I say. "I w

to build someth

ncing over his face. I want to hate him.

I ca

at him, I see a ma

erbalist collecting plants. But I'm really searching for proof-proof that

of town. The door creaks open, reve

Rafe says, h

th the altar. It's locked tight, b

ent Vale untouched by time," he

arkness. The air smel

s-maps, letters, and a chest

, the ink smudged b

, beware the shadow that wears a crown.

is barely visi

r mother write

uth," Rafe says. "The re

weight of those wo

was

esit

us W

hits me l

ent," I

ho rules u

o run. To burn it a

nd on my shou

sn't just a man. He's a

n a small room beneath the h

me," a smoot

heart thunder

olf snar

not