Camille

The moment I push open the door to Hope’s chambers, the scent hits me.

Not the soft lavender she usually smells of, or the faint trace of her magic that always sparks my wolf’s curiosity. No—this scent is sour, acidic, sharp enough that my wolf lifts his head in alarm.

She’s hurt. His growl vibrates through my mind.

I don’t even realize I’ve moved until I’m halfway across the sitting room. The maid—Rina, I think—steps out of the inner bathing room with a basin of water. Her eyes snap up, widen, and she freezes as if she’s been caught stealing the royal jewels.

“Your Highness!” She drops into a...