MALAKAI’S POV

The cold in the lower hall stayed near the floor enough to bite through boots. I stood near the pillar by the inner stairs, watching the new servant walk past with a basket of fresh linen.

She kept her chin tucked into her collar, eyes low, moving like someone who had spent her life trying not to be noticed. Her name was Mary. The head housekeeper had vetted her three days ago, and her papers were clean. Her scent was plain, like soap, old wool, and the dried lavender women used in the laundry bins.

Still, my wolf stirred under my skin, low and restless.

When she passed...