Chapter 15: Her Own Hammer

"She's my daughter," Bram said. "I'm her father, Willa."

"You filed a paper that called her the pack's property."

"My uncle drafted that."

"You stamped it," I said. "I watched you stamp a hundred of them."

Nobody in the crowd made a sound.

Bram looked at the pack, and for the first time in seven years he had nothing ready to say to them.

The old elder lowered the staff into its cradle.

"The staff has spoken," he said. "Mabel is the blessed heir of Ironwood. The boy is no claim."

"A child can't hold a seat," the uncle said. "She needs a regent."

"She has a mother," the elder said.

The uncle opened his mouth, and the elder raised one hand.

"Mrs. Haldane. The Luna's chair is empty. If you take it back, the Council will hear no more about it tonight."

It was the offer I would have wept for a month ago.

"No," I said.

The elder blinked.

"I withdrew my vow in front of two patrols," I said. "I won't come back into that chair as Bram's wife. I won't hold it because he lets me."

"Then how do you propose to hold it?"

"If the pack wants me, it can say so with a vote, in the open, after I've earned it. Until then I'm Willa Brandvold, and I'm Mabel's mother."

I turned to the front rows.

"And Greta Sorrel and her son stay inside the border under my surety. The mother of the true heir vouches for them, and the law lets me."

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