And I was done playing nice.
The figure solidified.
And it was Marguerite’s face I was looking at. But sure as hell those weren’t her eyes, void-like, glowing with something ancient and unholy.
She looked at me for a long moment. No fear. No urgency. Just... curiosity. Like I was some amusing artifact pulled from a dusty shelf.
Then she smirked.
“Well, well,” she said, voice as smooth as silk and twice as dangerous. “Amber didn’t come herself. I thought the Golden Wolf had more spine than that.”
My claws clicked out with a shink, the sound sharp and cold in the still air.
“You know my mother?” I asked, low and deadly.
She tilted her head. “Once. A long time ago. Before she traded war for wedding rings.”
The snarl ripped from my throat before I could stop it.
She laughed.
“Oh, do
