Chapter 9: Forty Votes

I woke on the second morning to find my kitchen empty and my cat gone.

Biscuit had left a single orange hair on the settle, as a receipt.

The blankets were folded.

The bandage on the table had been rewound, badly, by a man with one good hand.

Edith came in with the bread and read my face.

"He's at the stones," she said.

"He asked the old woman whether he could speak to the pack."

"It's Wednesday, and the gathering is Thursday."

"He asked anyway. She said she'd see what could be done."

"Edith."

"I didn't do anything. I'm only the messenger."

I put on my boots.

By the time I reached the hill, the pack was there.

Nobody had called a gathering.

The whole island stood in the ring of stones anyway, with their arms folded.

The old woman stood beside the driftwood chair.

She nodded to me and did not offer to move.

I took my seat, and Biscuit appeared from nowhere and sat on my feet.

Alaric stood in the middle of the circle, alone.

He had washed and shaved and put on a clean shirt from somewhere.

He did not look like a king.

He looked tired, and he had clearly decided to be honest.

"I'm not here as the Crown," he said.

"I asked leave of your Alpha to speak, and she gave it.

"I'll say it plainly, and then I'll go."

Nobody moved.

"Three weeks ago, in front of my whole court, I took my wife's title and gave it to another woman.

"Linnet signed because I put the pen in her hand.

"I did not ask her one question first.

"I never asked whether she wanted to go or whether she wanted to stay."

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