"When wolves scent truth, they bare their fangs. But when a Seer hides it, even the moon must wait to see it revealed."
Nyra Voss' POV
The corridor of the Eastern Chambers was too still. That kind of unnatural stillness that made most wolves twitch, shuffle, or cough to break it. Not me. I'd spent a lifetime learning how to breathe with the shadows, how to fold myself so thin against a wall that even the moonlight thought twice about touching me. My dagger sat easily in my hand, angled just right so its steel caught a lick of torchlight and threw it harmlessly away. I wasn't supposed to be here, and Juno and Marcus had been very clear: "Stay in the lower halls, Nyra. Don't sniff around for trouble."
