"We're mere low-born wolves. If not for this stroke of fortune, how could we ever have received Celestial Rank and stood before the Supreme Alpha?"
"'An old friend.' You're not embarrassed to say that out loud?"
Only then did I turn to look at Edwin, each word falling like a stone. "You call Master's death a stroke of fortune?"
Edwin faltered. A flicker of guilt surfaced in his eyes. His wolf dropped its gaze for half a breath before he forced it back up.
Rosalind Ashcroft, the second-ranked wolf, had just arrived. I smelled her before I saw her, that overripe berry sharpness cutting through the mountain air. She rushed to Edwin's defense the moment she saw his expression.
"Lynara, how dare you speak to Edwin that way?"
"Master's death wasn't our doing."
"If you want to blame someone, blame Master for being born with a Moonheart Core. We simply seized the opportunity that presented itself."
Looking at Rosalind's face, utterly devoid of remorse, all I felt was that Master had never been worth the love he gave them.
Edwin and Rosalind were the first wolves Master ever took into the pack.
He treated them no differently than he treated me.