7
A blonde woman, her hair braided into a crown came forward, walking with a staff and a raven flying over her.
Erik stepped between her and me.
“Yseult,” he greeted her. I peered around him, wanting to see the witch who had told the pack where to find my sisters and I, so the Alphas could make us brides. The witch was tall and beautiful, with a cold, impersonal mien. The raven landed on top of her staff and c****d his head at me. There was more expression in the beaked face than in Yseult’s, as if she could only mimic human expression because she had no natural feelings of her own.
“So this is Fleur. The strongest sister. I have long been kept from meeting her.”
I spoke before I could stop myself. “Strongest?”
“You are youngest so you think you are least?”
“Fleur,” Erik cautioned.
