Shadow was already waiting when I stepped outside the war room.
He lay stretched across the frost-kissed stone path like a great serpent uncoiled, his head resting on one paw while his tail twitching faintly. The guards and servants gave him a wide berth, and I was pretty sure that the wolf could smell the fear coming off them.
It was technically a smart move on their part. He only tolerated humans when I told him to—and even then, only barely.
He didn't lift his head when I approached. Just opened one eye, pale and gleaming, the color of ash after fire.
"You're early," I murmured, lowering myself to sit beside him on the cold stone. "Or did you just never leave?"
The hellhound exhaled. Not quite a growl. Not quite a sigh.
I reached out and ran my fingers through the thick fur along his spine. It was coarse in some places, matted with soot and blood in others. But under the grime was warmth. Power. Loyalty. The kind that didn't need words or titles.
