The healer didn't look startled when she stepped into the Alpha's quarters.
She didn't widen her eyes at the den on the bed, or the chair angled toward the door, or the way Cassian stood between Sable and the corridor like a living barrier. If she noticed any of it, she filed it away the way competent wolves filed away information that wasn't theirs to spread.
She only nodded once, respectful and quiet, and set her satchel on the table near the window.
Sable sat by the fire with her hands folded tightly in her lap, trying to look composed enough that her body's complaints didn't matter. The nausea had eased, leaving behind a faint queasiness that kept returning whenever the air shifted or a scent sharpened too suddenly. She hated how ordinary the symptoms felt and how extraordinary the consequences were going to be.
