"Wolves don't take kindly to weakness"

The corridors of the Skull Palace's keep were quiet, save for the soft echo of my footsteps against the stone. The morning air was crisp, carrying the distant sounds of the city waking up as the chill settled in my bone.

I hadn't seen Kaleb since last night. Not at dinner, not even in passing. I told myself I didn't care, but my mind kept circling back to that letter he received.

Something about it had shifted his expression, even if only for a second.

I sighed, rubbing my temple as I neared the study. If he wasn't going to tell me, I'd just—

Heavy footsteps pounded against the stone behind me.

"Your Grace!"

I turned just as a soldier rushed forward, out of breath, his uniform streaked with dirt.

"Your Grace," he panted, urgency thick in his voice. "There's been an incident at one the gates. A fight nearly broke out between the refugees and some of our people."

A cold weight settled in my stomach. "What happened?"