Jesse.
I had paced the entire length of my chambers ever since I met Lyssandra at the castle’s back gates.
An hour had passed, yet the agitation inside me had only worsened.
I was furious.
Not the loud, explosive kind of anger that came and went like a storm—but the slow, simmering rage that settled into the bones and refused to leave.
Something had been happening beneath the surface of my rule, and I could feel it with a certainty that made my skin prickle.
My wolf had been restless inside my head, pacing just as I was, low growls rumbling through my thoughts. Even he sensed it. Even he knew something was wrong.
There had been something filthy about Lyssandra’s composure tonight.
Too calm.
Too arranged.
It felt as though I had been seated upon solid ground while something
