Lyra Shadowmere had always loved mirrors.
She stood before the one in her chambers now, silver hair catching the firelight as she pinned another strand into place. Her reflection smiled back, all sharp edges and satisfied cruelty.
The news had reached her three days ago. The Ice Alpha still lives. The Glaciara exile survived.
She'd laughed when she first heard it. Then thrown her wine glass against the wall hard enough to shatter.
Reign Winterhart. The name tasted like ash in her mouth.
The pathetic omega she'd framed. The weak link she'd convinced Kieran to cast out. That girl was supposed to die quietly in the wasteland, become a cautionary tale about defying your betters. Instead, stories were spreading about an Alpha Queen commanding frost and direwolves.
It was infuriating.
"My
