Lyssandra.
I had prepared myself for this journey, steeling every nerve against the risks.
It wasn’t safe territory—the Crescent Pack had no love for us, and the feeling was mutual. But I’d just ordered a guard to ready a horse, cloak pulled tight, dagger strapped to my thigh.
Everything unfolding now demanded answers I couldn’t get from our own priest.
I didn’t care about the distance, the danger, or sneaking into enemy lands. I had to fix this—my mess, my fault.
It was getting dark. If I was leaving, it had to be now.
I was halfway down the grand corridors leading to the palace entrance when I spotted that infuriating strumpet. Danika.
She was nearly due, belly swollen huge beneath her bodice gown, moving with that annoyingly slow waddle, one hand braced against her stomach lik
