The sound of soft, measured footsteps on gravel made him freeze. He looked up, his heart a frantic bird trapped in the cage of his ribs, expecting Leo's concerned face, or worse, the precise, talon-tapped steps of Magister Valerius coming to formally unmask him and deliver him to the Empress's justice.
It was Fenrir.
The massive Beastkin stood a few paces away, a monolith of dark fur and simmering power against the backdrop of the serene courtyard. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, the corded muscle visible even beneath his academy robes. His tail, a thick brush of darkest grey, swished slowly behind him in a rhythm that was both lazy and predatory. He looked down at Liam, his golden eyes, luminescent and unreadable, taking in every detail: the tremble in the hands still clenched in the gravel, the pallor of his face, the utter dejection in his posture.
