The torchlight flickered over the jagged edges of the war council tent as Rhett stood still as stone, his jaw clenched tight, golden eyes scanning the torn map that lay crumpled on the war table. His breath came low and deep, too steady to be calm. The night outside roared with wind, yet inside, the silence threatened to choke him. It wasn't the coming war that held him captive. It was betrayal, too close, too personal.
Caden. His cousin.
A wolf of noble blood, once bound to Rhett by oath and bloodline, now a whisper in the wind of dissent. A name that had risen from a scout's lips like venom.
"He met with Sterling," the scout had said, kneeling with his hand pressed to his chest. "They spoke in the dark, at the edge of the elder trees. Caden carried a scroll marked with your crest…burned through with ash."
The scroll had been found at dawn. Torn in half, smeared in blood.
Rhett didn't need proof beyond that.
