That was why, after all those years, Master and Matron Thornwell never had a pup by blood.
Matron Thornwell would grumble about it from time to time, but that foolish old man would just laugh and wave it off. "It's fine. I trust my pack. When the day comes, they'll see us properly buried."
He was wrong, in the end.
But I knew that foolish old man.
He believed, to his last breath, that people were born good. Whenever his wolves made mistakes, he always gave them a chance to make things right.
I never agreed with that. But I didn't want him to die with his eyes open, restless and unsettled.
So I did what Master would have done. I gave Edwin and Rosalind one chance.
"I'll handle avenging Master myself. I don't need your help."
"Go back to the Dawnveil Pack now. Stay with Master and Matron Thornwell."
"Carry on Master's legacy. Make the pack flourish."
Rosalind had been spoiled rotten by Master since she was a pup, and her temper was as foul as they came.
The second she caught the commanding tone in my voice, her face soured. Something in my chest stirred, low and quiet, and I felt the air between us tighten. Rosalind's nostrils flared. She didn't understand what she was sensing, but her body did. Her shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch before she caught herself and stiffened again.
She shoved me, her voice shaking with fury. "Lynara, who do you think you are?"
"How dare you speak to your senior brother and sister like that?!"
Edwin stepped between us, his expression the picture of composed reason. "Lynara, don't be rash."
"The Dawnveil Pack was always a small, unremarkable pack. Master spent his entire life trying to make it flourish and never could. What chance would we have?"
"Besides, all of us have received our Celestial Rank now. Isn't that a glory the pack can be proud of?"
He reached out and took hold of my arm.
"Come now, be good. I'll take you to see the Supreme Alpha. I'll make sure you get a fine rank..."
But before the last word left his mouth, my short blade was already buried in his chest.
Edwin never even had time to react. He crumpled to the ground, eyes wide and glassy, dead before he hit the stone. The scent of damp parchment and tarnished copper flooded the air, sharp and sudden, the way a wolf's scent always surges at the moment of death.
Every Sovereign Guard in the vicinity went rigid with shock. Weapons sang free of their sheaths, all pointed at me.