with shaky hands. "No, my king. Just... surprised it opened." Kael's amber eyes narrowed. "What did you see inside?" "Nothing important," Lyra lied. "Just a maker's mark." General Vy

ed fletching. The same kind used by her village. King Kael emerged beside her suddenly, making her jump. "What did you find?" "Arrow," she said, giving it to him. "Unusual design." Kael examined it, nostrils flaring. "You recognize it." It wasn't a question. Before she could answer, wolves howled in the distance. "They've found the trail," Kael said, pulling her back to her horse. "Let's see where your loyalties truly lie, blacksmith." They followed the rebels' path for hours, deeper into the forest than Lyra had ever been. When they finally stopped, Kael's guards brought forward a young man with a bloodied face-a caught rebel. "Where are the others?" Kael demanded. The rebel spat at his feet. "I'll die before I talk." "That can be arranged." Kael turned to Lyra. "Your village uses these arrows, don't they?" The charge hung in the air. Lyra's thoughts raced. If she denied it, he'd know she was lying. If she admitted it... "Many villages use similar fletching," she answered carefully. Kael's eyes burned into hers. "You're protecting them." "No, I-" "Let me find out." In one swift move, Kael grabbed her hand and sliced her palm with his dagger. Blood welled up. "What are you doing?" she gasped. Kael pressed her bleeding hand to the rebel's face. "Blood recognizes blood." Nothing happened. The rebel stared in confusion. Kael looked surprised. "You're not kin to these rebels?" Lyra pulled her hand away. "I told you, I'm just a blacksmith." The Wolf King studied her face. "A blacksmith who knows blood magic, fixes cursed blades, and carries no scent." He wiped her blood from his knife. "Return to the castle. We have a ritual to prepare for." That night, Lyra paced her small room, mind spinning. Mara had been with the rebels. The scarf proved it. But was she prisoner or ally? A knock interrupted her thinking. She quickly hid Mara's scarf under her mattress before opening the door. Elara stood there, blind eyes somehow finding Lyra's face. "The king requests your presence in his private forge." "Now? It's past midnight." "The Wolf King rarely sleeps before the Blood Moon." Elara's voice dropped to a whisper. "Be careful. He suspects." The old woman led her through winding hallways and down stone steps. They fell deeper than Lyra thought possible, until the air grew cold and damp. Finally, they reached an iron door guarded by two wolves. They nodded to Elara and let them pass. The private forge burned with blue fire instead of orange. King Kael stood befor