Magister Orion looks stunned when he comes into the tent, his swirling eyes landing on the small Fae girl Lucas calls Pip.
"What are you doing here?!" the giant man roars, and the wolves who had followed Lucas on his mission tense. None of them have met the Magister before.
Lucas, to his credit, remains aloof, though his hand tightens on my shoulder. "Do you recognize Pip, Magister?"
Magister Orion's face twists into a scowl. The expression transforms his usually dignified features into something fierce. My heart skips a beat at his thunderous reaction, but he smooths his expression and bows to Lucas with perfect court manners.
"Alpha Westwood. My deepest apologies for my outburst."
Lucas' hand relaxes on my shoulder. The warmth of his touch anchors me as I study Pip's face. Her purple hair seems duller now, less vibrant. Fear and relief war in her expression—but there's something else, easily recognizable. Her jaw is set in what looks an awful lot like defiance.
