Chapter 10: The Gathering

The Midwinter Gathering filled the great hall with every lord of Skarreth in his best furs.

Linnea walked in on Aldric's arm in grey and silver, with her chin up, and said nothing to him.

Seven weeks had passed since the rune room, and she had spoken to him only when the council required it.

He had slept on a cot in the corridor every night of them, and she had listened to him not come in.

Heralds called the order of business.

When they reached the petitions, a hoarse voice rang out from the back.

"Your Grace, I claim redress."

Godfrey Hask strode down the aisle in a fur collar with his seal ring on his thumb.

He looked at Linnea as if he wanted to eat her.

"I petition for my wife," he said. "Signed, sealed, and paid for, and now held against her will in this Hold."

A murmur ran around the hall.

"And for the child she carries," Hask went on, "which by law belongs to the husband whose contract was first."

Aldric's hand tightened on the arm of his chair.

"The contract was never consummated," he said. "She was not your wife."

"It was a contract, Your Grace. The lords of Skarreth hold to contracts."

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