"The corridors of power are not only stained by blood, but by whispers. Some fear the silence of kings more than the roar of wolves."
Hours slipped by like restless shadows. I had scrubbed myself raw in the shower, as if soap and steaming water could erase guilt. It had not. Dinner came next, a tray of venison, root stew, and bread. I chewed without tasting, swallowed without caring. Vayne grumbled the entire time in the back of my mind, snapping at me for lingering in silence instead of walking straight to the Eastern Chambers.
You are stalling.
"I needed a shower."
You needed courage.
"Dinner, too," I muttered, drying my hands on a cloth.
You needed your mate, Alaric.
