LioraI did not think I would ever see the Lycan King sit on the ground.But there he was, that night, folded down onto a log by the big central fire like any other wolf, his furs thrown back off his shoulders, the flames throwing gold and shadow up the hard lines of his face. His soldiers sat around him, a dozen of them, and past them, slowly, carefully, the way you approach a wild thing you have decided to trust against your own better sense, the people of Whitewaters had begun to gather too.They had spent the whole day terrified of him. I had watched them go to their knees in the snow that morning, watched them beg for their lives with their faces in the frost. And now here they were, easing closer to his fire one by one, drawn to the very thing that had frightened them, because that is what he is. That is what he has always been. A thing you cannot look away from even when every sense you own is telling you to run.I sat apart. Across the fire, on the cold side, with Stiles at my
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