Alaric watched me with something like amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. "Then perhaps you should ask your uncle why he gave his territories and tributes to an outsider like me, rather than to a nephew he supposedly loved like his own pup."
I went rigid. My fingers crushed the edge of the will.
Cold sweat dripped down, one bead at a time, splattering onto the parchment. The words "Heir: Kael Stormshadow" blurred and ran beneath the moisture.
My uncle had never taken a mate. He had raised me—an orphaned pup who lost both parents when I was barely two winters old—as if I were his own blood.
I had grown up at his side. He sent me to the most prestigious training grounds for young wolves. He gave me every comfort the pack could offer.
Before I had even completed my coming-of-age trials, he brought me into the pack's inner circle to learn how territory was managed and tributes were collected. He taught me everything he knew about leading.
Despite my elder uncle's fierce opposition, he had declared all his holdings would pass to me—his sister's son—leaving not a single acre to his own nephew by blood.
Because of this, my uncle and my elder uncle had become bitter enemies.