But when his eyes landed on my face, that easy confidence froze for just a moment.
I probably looked like a ghost.
Deathly pale. Hollowed-out eyes. So thin I was barely recognizable—like something had drained every last drop of life from my body.
Alaric's brow furrowed. For once, a flicker of guilt—faint, almost imperceptible—crossed his features.
He walked over and held his cloak over my head to shield me from the rain. His voice softened, just slightly.
"What have you done to yourself?"
He paused, as if weighing his next words. "Since you're being so cooperative with the rejection, I won't be completely heartless about this."
He pulled another scroll from his satchel and held it out to me.
"I had my pack counsel draft a new agreement. Everything I promised before, plus additional hunting grounds near the eastern ridge."
His tone turned magnanimous. "After all, raising Lily on your own won't be easy. Training fees, healer visits—it all adds up."
The moment her name left his lips, my heart seized.
I raised my head. My eyes, flat and empty, locked onto his.
Alaric shifted under my stare, visibly uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and asked casually, as if making small talk: