Ravensblood Forest Queen Anne's Revenge

meredith stood beside nox, silent but ever watchful.

the cave stank of salt, damp stone, and the quiet reek of defiance. the red-faced woman carried herself with an air of calm she had no right to.

too steady. too proud.

meredith’s golden fur caught the dim light as she shifted, keen eyes flicking between the swollen curve of mireille’s belly and the sharpness in her gaze. pregnant or not, the woman did not tremble, did not beg. she was playing a game.

nox’s words hung in the air, heavy with warning, but mireille met them without fear. meredith’s jaw tightened at the look the woman gave her—scornful. pitying. dismissive.

as if she were above this. above them.

fine. let her think that.

meredith rolled a shoulder, slow, deliberate. her voice, when it came, was low and even. i’ll take her.

she met nox’s gaze for confirmation, but there was no question in it. mireille would not slip away. she would hunt, she would pull her weight—or she would learn the consequences.