Isla's POV
The wolf caster was a woman.
That was the first thing Isla noticed when Ezra brought them in, not Damien, not the three Silvercrest wolves flanking him, but the small, quiet woman standing slightly behind the group with her eyes on the ground and her hands folded and her scent completely wrong, not wolf, not Lycan, something older and stranger that made Isla's wolf press forward against her ribs like a hand flat against a door.
Cassian had put the mask back on before they reached the gate. His face was smooth and unreadable again and Isla felt the loss of it more sharply than she expected.
