Tirianna

I walk toward the lunch hall with my head high and my shoulders back, even though every instinct in me wants to curl inward and disappear.

People stare.

Some do it openly, curiosity and calculation etched across their faces. Others pretend not to look, which is almost worse. They don’t know what to make of me—former queen, prisoner, survivor, liability. I can feel their thoughts like a low hum against my skin.

Let them stare, my Lycan murmurs, voice low but steady. We are still standing.

Xavior is at my side, as he has been since the moment we arrived. Too close. Too protective. I love him for it,...