Her brow furrowed as she thought for a moment, as if combing through her memories.
"Oath?" she repeated. "I've heard one of his close associates mention it… Marcus, I think his name was. Yes." She paused, her expression twisting uneasily. "But I'm not under any myself. Not yet."
Not yet?
She wasn't under any oath?
That realization didn't sound right to me.
Someone like her—useful, skilled, connected to the chief's forge and inner workings—should have been bound by at least one vow of loyalty.
Otherwise, what was stopping her from betraying him? From running off to an enemy clan?
Unless… this was that betrayal.
My jaw tightened."What do you mean by not yet?"
I pressed Gravefang lightly against her neck, the cold edge of the blade resting just above her collarbone. The faint tremor that passed through her body told me she understood exactly how thin the line was between her words and her death.
She swallowed hard:
