The stone path crumbled to dust behind me, and the whole mountain territory shook to its foundations. Every wolf within a mile radius felt it in their bones, a tremor that had nothing to do with the earth and everything to do with something old waking up.
Celestial-ranked soldiers rushed forward, blocking me outside the Gates of the Sovereign Grounds.
The one leading them was none other than my senior packmate from the Dawnveil Pack, Master's proudest wolf: Edwin Greymane.
He stared at me in surprise, brow furrowed. His scent hit me before his words did, that familiar damp parchment and tarnished copper, soured now with something I hadn't smelled on him before. Ambition, maybe. Or cowardice dressed up as pragmatism. "Lynara, if you've come to seek the Supreme Alpha's favor, you should keep your head down and your voice low."
"What's the point of making such a scene?"
I didn't bother looking at him. My eyes stayed fixed on the Gates. "Tell Fenris Voss to come out."
"Tell him an old friend has come to visit."
Edwin let out a weary sigh.
"Lynara, have you lost your mind?"
"We're mere low-born wolves. If not for this stroke of fortune, how could we ever have received Celestial Rank and stood before the Supreme Alpha?"
"'An old friend.' You're not embarrassed to say that out loud?"
Only then did I turn to look at Edwin, each word falling like a stone. "You call Master's death a stroke of fortune?"
Edwin faltered. A flicker of guilt surfaced in his eyes. His wolf dropped its gaze for half a breath before he forced it back up.
Rosalind Ashcroft, the second-ranked wolf, had just arrived. I smelled her before I saw her, that overripe berry sharpness cutting through the mountain air. She rushed to Edwin's defense the moment she saw his expression.
"Lynara, how dare you speak to Edwin that way?"
"Master's death wasn't our doing."
"If you want to blame someone, blame Master for being born with a Moonheart Core. We simply seized the opportunity that presented itself."
Looking at Rosalind's face, utterly devoid of remorse, all I felt was that Master had never been worth the love he gave them.
Edwin and Rosalind were the first wolves Master ever took into the pack.
He treated them no differently than he treated me.
He poured every ounce of his heart into raising them, even putting off having pups of his own.