*Xamara*

The castle is alive with laughter, overflowing glasses, and buzzing conversation, the warmth of the fires chasing away the chill from the snow outside. I move through the great hall, taking in the Blackwater Pack banners and glowing candlelight, the scent of roasted deer and sweet berry pies drifting from the kitchens. Everywhere I look, warriors and rogues mingle. The Nightborn are defeated, their shadows vanquished, yet the witches’ escape leaves a gnawing unease at the edge of my mind.

Julian stands near the center of the room, talking quietly with two of his packmates. The familiar pull of the bond draws me closer. I weave between rogues and...