Moments later,

Aria

The door had barely latched behind my frantic brother and the perplexed healer when a soft, rhythmic tapping sounded at the balcony glass. I didn't need to look to know who it was. My inner circle didn't use hallways; they used shadows.

I sat up, clutching the silk sheets to my chest, my muscles screaming a protest that was half-fever, half-aftermath.

"Enter," I croaked.

The glass slid open. Three figures slipped into the room with the synchronized grace of a high-end hit squad.

There was Jade, the sharp-tongued strategist with hair the color of a sunset and electric blue eyes; Muna, our resident master of pack law...