I was walking the lower storerooms with Garrick when one of the guards dragged the man out from behind the grain barrels. He had been hiding there for hours, cloaked in shadow, a small pouch of northern runes clutched in his fist.
The guard shoved him forward and the man stumbled into the open, his face pale and his eyes darting like a cornered animal.
The pack gathered fast. Word spread through the corridors and the bailey until the entire space filled with boots and low voices. I stood in the center with the kings at my back, the children safe in the nursery under heavy guard. Lila had asked me before I left if the bad wolves were inside the walls. I had told her no, but now the lie felt heavy in my throat.
The man lifted his head when I stepped closer. His hands shook as he tried to hide the pouch, but Garrick ripped it free and held it up for everyone to see. The runes were carved into thin bone, the same symbols the northern triad had left on the marker stones.
