Queen of Wolves
That I wouldn’t lose myself, I thought.
I didn’t answer.
The doors opened again.
The healer entered, followed by a young woman I recognized from the border camp. She looked impossibly small in the vast hall, hands clenched so tightly her knuckles had gone white.
“This is Jane,” the healer said. “She is strong enough to speak.”
Jane dropped to her knees instantly. “My King. My Queen.”
“Stand,” I said.
She hesitated, then rose, her gaze never lifting.
“Tell us why you ran,” I said calmly, though something dark stirred inside me.
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