The Tyrant's Tomb

Directly behind the pyre, on the raised steps of Jupiter’s temple, the
largest wolf appeared, her silvery hide glowing in the torchlight.
I felt the legion holding its collective breath. No one knelt. When facing
Lupa, the wolf goddess, guardian spirit of Rome, you don’t kneel or show
any sign of weakness. Instead we stood respectfully, holding our ground, as
the pack bayed around us.
At last, Lupa fixed me with her lamp-yellow eyes. With a curl of her lip,
she gave me a simple order: Come.
Then she turned and paced into the darkness of the temple.
Reyna approached me.
“Looks like the wolf goddess wants to have a private word.” She
frowned with concern. “We’ll get the feast started. You go ahead. Hopefully
Lupa isn’t angry. Or hungry.”