Val knew the moment they arrived.
The air twisted, tension bristling like spiked thorn serpents across the clearing. The hatchlings stirred in the satchel beside Sky, whimpering. Yara's hand tightened around her dagger hilt, the shimmer of her aura drawing inward.
Val felt the flicker like a tremor on water, Yara's fear, sharp and sudden, pressed against the mind-link.
Not danger.
Terror.
And it wasn't for him.
Val's breath stilled.
His claws tingled beneath skin not fully shed from transformation, itching to rip, to protect.
Kellan stepped forward, boots crunching over fresh snow, carrying the stink of smugness and old blood. His gaze latched onto Yara.
"Well, well," he cooed, voice oiled with false sweetness. "Look what the winds blew back to me."
His eyes raked down her body, possessive. Greedy. "You're even prettier than I remember, little fire."