Maisie
The thirteen hours long flight back to court was tense.
I sat with my arms wrapped around my knees and my gaze fixed out the window, but I didn't need to look to know something was wrong. I felt it in the air, felt it down the bond, a restless energy that refused to abate.
And I knew it had something to do with the dead Lycan.
Violette's goodbye had been filled with warm, perfumed hugs and several kisses, with her bullying me into promising I would visit again, even if I divorced them. I would always have a home with the Chastains.
Mr. Chastain had tried to share the same enthusiasm, but he was just as tense as the Lycans, worried about something.
It crawled like a bug into my chest, the urge to ask what was going on. Soren had said there would be a price to pay for the death of the Queen's chosen sixth, but that was all I'd been able to get out of them. And I was way too upset about last night to break the silence and ask about it.
