NOAH.
The dull, throbbing ache behind my eyes pounded in rhythm with my heartbeat as I pulled myself up from the stone bench in the courtyard.
I winced, pressing two fingers hard against my temple. The remnants of the wolfsbane in my system were still fighting dirty, leaving a metallic taste on my tongue and a heavy, nauseating pressure in my skull. I shook my head, trying to rattle the dull fog out of my brain, and let out a harsh, irritated breath.
Dusk was settling over the pack house. The sky above the courtyard had turned a bruised, dark purple, and the freezing mountain air bit into the back of my neck.
All around me, the courtyard was a hive of controlled chaos. Armor clanked, heavy iron boots stomped across the cobblestones, and the sharp scent of polished leather and weapon oil filled the air. My elite guards were lining up in tight, orderly rows, strapping on their silver-and-black chest plates and securing heavy war axes to their saddles.
