The darkness in her cell was a physical presence, a cold, heavy blanket that smothered all sound, all light. Arin didn't know how many days had passed since Vaeren's visit. Time in the Wolf's Chamber was a fluid, meaningless thing, measured only by the single, grim meal that appeared each day and the slow, agonizing scrape of her makeshift knife against the mortar of her window bars.
The serpent charm was a constant, cold weight on her skin. A leash. Dhaelon's leash. Since the incident with the mirror, it had remained dormant, a silent, menacing reminder of his power. He was leaving her alone. For now. He was a cat who had cornered a mouse, content to watch it tremble before the final pounce.
But Arin was not a mouse. She was a wolf. And her cage was making her feral.
The rage she had felt after Vaeren left had cooled, hardening into a sharp, clear purpose. She had two goals now, two stars to navigate by in the endless dark.
Find the truth of Aelina's murder.
