I stride out of the hall, leaving behind Harper’s angry sobs and the stunned silence of a pack that has just watched their carefully laid plans crumble.

The evening air carries the scent of smoke and roasted meat from the feast as I head toward the Wyvern Woods. The scent trail from the masking potion is two days old, but my enhanced senses can still detect the faint chemical signature where it was used. I’m examining the disturbed earth at the forest’s edge when I catch motion in my peripheral vision.

It’s Daciana, her warrior’s posture rigid with barely controlled fury. She’s watching me with an intensity that suggests she...