I was unconscious through the night. The furs beneath me soaked through with blood. The scent of it filled the small room, iron and salt and something sweeter underneath that I couldn't let myself name.
The door crashed open with a kick. Sable Ashveil strode in, flanked by several older den workers. Her scent hit me before I could focus my eyes: overripe plum and that cloying sweetness that never quite covered the sharper thing underneath.
She glanced at me, drenched in blood from the waist down, then settled into a chair by the table and poured herself a cup of tea as if she had all the time in the world.
"Don't blame me. The pup in my belly has to be the firstborn heir. That's the only way I'll have any standing in the Blackthorn Pack. Surely you understand."
I braced myself against the wall, barely upright. "So you had my pup killed."
Sable let out a short laugh. "Now that's unfair. Caelan was the one who laced the food. Caelan was the one who didn't want it. All I did was mention it in passing."
I stared at her, unblinking. My nails dug into my palms until the skin split.
She rose and walked over to me, one hand resting on her belly.