The forest was colder than Lyra expected.

By morning, the stranger had introduced himself as Kael Arden, a former captain of the royal guard. He refused to say why he had left the palace, and Lyra refused to tell him who she was.

Neither of them believed the other.

When wolves surrounded their camp that night, Kael pushed Lyra behind him and drew his sword.

“They are not ordinary wolves,” he warned.

Their eyes glowed silver in the dark.

Lyra remembered an old story her mother used to tell: the royal bloodline had once made a pact with the wolves of the northern woods. Protect the crown, and the wolves would protect the kingdom.

But the wolves did not attack.

They bowed.

Kael turned slowly toward Lyra.

“What are you?” he asked.

Lyra looked at the silver-eyed creatures around them.

“Someone who should be dead.”