I didn't know how long I slept.
When I woke, the room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a lantern on the floor.
My throat was dry, my head pounding like I'd been crying for hours, which I probably had.
The door creaked open and Calla slipped inside, her soft steps padding against the wooden floor.
She was carrying a tray with something that smelled like food.
"Maeve," she said gently, her voice warm, almost maternal. "How are you feeling?"
I sat up slowly, my wrists aching where the chains had rubbed them raw earlier. "Like I'm in some nightmare," I muttered, my voice hoarse.
Calla set the tray down on a stool and crouched slightly so we were eye level. Her bright amber eyes studied me with open sympathy. "Alpha Alexander ordered that you join us for the evening meal."
My brain stalled. "What?"
"You're to eat with the rest of the pack tonight," she explained.
