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    Summary

    "You don’t happen to know the story behind the name Blaiddyd, do you?" Sylvain asked. "You know, its meaning, that sort of thing.”

    “It means lion, doesn’t it?” you asked uncertainly. “Like Loog.”

    “Nope, although that’s the common interpretation,” Sylvain said. “Probably because the original was too on the nose.”

    “What was it, then?”

    Sylvain leaned down. He was so close, his nose almost brushing yours. “Wolf lord,” he told you softly, smiling impishly like he was imparting some kind of important secret. Your stomach dropped. Oh, that was awful. “You get it,” Sylvain said with a wink, standing back up. “The Hero Blaiddyd must have been some powerful alpha to get a title like that. I can’t even begin to imagine what it was like before the bloodlines got diluted.” He paused, his demeanor shifting back to being casual. “But now you know, it’s in Dimitri’s blood. Next time, he’ll devour you.”

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