Chapter 12. Betrayal from Within

The first pale edge of dawn was just touching the black pines when Neriah woke to the sound of raised voices.

She lay in her cot for a moment, heart thrumming, listening to the wind batter the tent walls and the distant clang of the watch bell. The camp was already awake. Boots thudded on wet earth outside, and every sound carried a tension that made the hair rise on her arms. The air stank of cold mud and iron—a storm was coming, and the wolves knew it.

She dressed swiftly, pulling on her worn black tunic and the battered cloak with the wolf’s-head clasp. Her hands shook as she braided her hair. She tried to steady herself, to remember the breathing patterns Thalia had drilled into her: in for four, hold for four, out for four. It didn’t help much. The flame inside her was restless, flickering at the base of her spine, nipping at her with every breath.

She stepped outside just as Kalen strode up the path, long legs eating the distance. He wore his battle leathers,