The heavy stone doors of the Alpha’s private wing shut out the rest of the fortress, cutting off the distant, metallic echoes of Marcus’s vanguard moving the western garrison prisoners. For the first time in six days, the silence inside the rooms was much needed. Especially by Nila.

She was inside the large private bedchamber, that was walled in dark cedar logs that had been polished until they glowed an amber-gold under the light of a massive stone hearth. A thick, cream-colored sheepskin rug covered the floorboards, and the massive four-poster bed was layered in heavy charcoal wool blankets and dark velvet pillows.

Nila stood in the center of the...