The heavy iron gates of the Great Hall slammed shut behind me, locking out the freezing wind and leaving only the hum of two hundred silent wolves.Torches dripped oil down the stone walls. The hall smelled of damp wool, wet dog, and dried blood.I stood at the bottom of the raised platform in a torn tunic. My knuckles were still raw, and my fingers stayed clamped around the silver letter opener tucked up my sleeve. Two guards stood a step behind me, their thumbs resting on the pommels of their broadswords.Draven sat in the black stone chair above the floor.He didn't look angry. He didn't look torn. He looked like he was staring at a stray dog that had wandered onto his porch. The link between us that pull beneath the ribs I’d felt every second for a year was dead silent.Whatever happened in the hours after we left the tower had taken root fast. Clearing Angel didn't fix the council. It just gave Valerie room to work.Valerie stepped to the edge of the dais, holding a rolled parchm
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