She carried an elegant carved wooden container, her usual arrogance nowhere to be seen. Instead, she nibbled her lower lip, eyes rimmed with red, the picture of wounded innocence. She tiptoed to the bedside, her voice soft as cotton: "Lyra, I know I was wrong before. I made this bone broth myself—please try it. Consider it... my apology. I hope you can forgive me."
Lyra said nothing. She simply watched her with cold eyes, her wolf stirring uneasily beneath her skin, knowing full well that Selene never showed kindness without an agenda.
Sure enough, Selene hesitated, twisting her fingers together before continuing carefully: "The thing is... the pack council wants to build a 'gifted scholar' image for me, and you have all those academy competition trophies—they'd be so convincing. Could you maybe lend them to me? Just for a little while, until I finish the ceremonial presentation. Then I'll return them."
Lend her trophies?