I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached, clutched my daughter tight, and charged toward the banquet hall, screaming at the top of my lungs:
"A healer! Is there a healer here?!"
Finn's head snapped up. He lunged to stop me.
"Narelle! Who do you think you are, making a scene in front of the pack healer?! Don't you dare!"
He clamped a hand over my mouth. His servants grabbed for Hildegarde, trying to pry her from my arms and drag her away. She was already gasping between sobs, and now their hands smothered her mouth and nose. Her face went from red to a mottled purple.
I stopped thinking. I sank my teeth into Finn's hand until I tasted blood.
Then I broke free and ran, stumbling into the banquet, locking onto that one familiar figure, and screamed:
"Xavier Dawnmere! You're a pack healer! Save my daughter!"
Xavier spun around. His eyes went wide, shock and disbelief tangled together, and then something fierce and bright broke through. Joy. Raw, unguarded joy. His scent, dried lavender and sun-warmed birch bark, surged sharp with it.
"You're alive?"
He rushed to me, already reaching for Hildegarde, pressing his hands to the wound to stanch the bleeding. His fingers glowed faintly with the old wolf-healing warmth, and Hildegarde's ragged sobs softened to hiccups against my chest.
The commotion reached the high dais. Luna Consort Rosalind Nighthollow tilted her head, her gaze drifting down toward the disturbance.
"Who was that woman just now? Her voice sounds so familiar."
Finn stepped forward and bowed low, his answer quick and smooth:
"Your Grace, it's nothing. Just a servant from the den. A packless attendant, that's all."
That was when I laughed. A short, cold sound. I pulled the mating bond certificate from my sleeve and dropped to my knees.
"Your Grace. I am no attendant. I am Narelle Silvercrest, Alpha-blooded daughter of the Silvercrest Pack. And I am here to beg your permission for a formal bond dissolution from Finn Thornwood, Alpha of the Thornwood Pack."
