The three of them—Cerelia, Dallas, and Bree—dashed through the castle corridors. Bree wasn’t sure where they were going, but she tried to keep up with the two wolves anyway.
As soon as Cerelia had delivered the news, Dallas had taken off at a run, and Bree had scrambled off the bed to follow him. Apparently, the situation was enough of an emergency that he didn’t immediately insist that Bree go back, which meant that things were serious. Besides, Bree didn’t want to be left behind if a child was hurt. She wasn’t the strongest healer, but she could help.
They burst into a large room, empty except for a throne at the very front, a large carpet covering the center of it, and several fireplaces in the walls. There were tapestries hanging from the walls, depicting scenes of wolves; they must have been historical or important, somehow, but Bree didn’t have time to examine them. Instead, her eyes were drawn to the center of the room, near the throne, where a small group was clustered.
