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Ezra turns to her and lifts his chin, grass stains and all.

“Stormscale stands with Ash Clan now,” I say. “They’re the same.”

Sirena considers that. She’s not convinced, but she isn’t shutting the door either. I’ll take it.

When Ezra steps toward me, his wing jerks wrong. He stops and waits it out. I’m itching to check it, but I keep my hands to myself.

“We’re going to talk,” he warns.

My wolf grumbles and lies down low. She’s pissed at me too. She’s been trying to get through since I woke up, but I wouldn’t listen. “I know,” I tell him.

Claude comes forward and puts her hand out to Sirena. She’s warm about it and still leaves no question who’s in charge. “I’m Claude of Ash Clan. Ezra’s mother. Welcome to Wintermoon.”

Sirena eyes her hand without taking it and bows instead. “You are the mate of Tyrion.”

Claude lowers her arm. “I am.”

Sirena straightens. “Then you are known to us as well.”

What does that even mean? Claude doesn’t give anything away.

Ezra hasn’t stopped staring at me. His eye twitches when his wing seizes up again. I wince for him.

“Have you lost your damn mind?” The second time, I mean it even more.

“Aya.”

“You flew here on a torn wing⁠—”

“Aya.”

“—and face-planted in front of a diplomatic contact⁠—”

“Aya.” He says it quiet and certain. “You left.”

My eyes sting. My wolf shoves at me, then sulks. “I don’t know how to explain myself,” I admit.

To my left, Claude is way too pleased with herself, and it irritates me more than anything else that has happened today because she’s not wrong.

32

AYA

Okay, so he’s pissed. Can’t say he’s wrong about it, though. Damn, even my wolf knows I’m being selfish, and she’s still sulking. I wince along with him every time his torn wing jerks. The pain in his scent is my fault.

“Are you well, Ezra?” Sirena asks.

His wing spasms again, worse this time. Even Claude cringes at it, and she’s a doctor. Ezra’s face pulls tight, but he doesn’t make a sound. My stomach turns over for him as the thin skin ripples and the muscle knits back into place.

I want to apologize, but Ezra moves first and hauls me against his side with his arm around my waist. His fingers press into my hip just shy of painful. He brushes his lips over my claim mark.

It tingles under his mouth until I moan and sag into him. My wolf forgets she’s sulking and gives in without a fight. My hand is flat on his chest, and his heartbeat is steady, even though his scent still runs hot with temper. He leaves my neck and kisses my cheek.

Ezra meets Sirena’s eyes and nods. She lays a hand over her heart to return it with her dark hair sliding forward.

“My apologies for my tardiness,” he says.

Sirena’s mouth curves. “Your mate has proven to be a good guide.”