Chapter 10: The Guests

They came up the north road on the fourth afternoon, forty riders in black and silver, with Linnet and Lucian at the front.

Torin and I stood on the hall steps to receive them.

He had put on his good coat and set his face to neutral.

I had put on Linnet's grey cloak, because it would have been stranger not to.

Linnet slid off her horse before anyone could help her and ran up the steps with both arms out.

"Bron!"

She hugged me hard, smelling of horse and lavender.

"Look at you. You look rested. Torin, may I call you Torin? You've made her look rested, which is the first time in twenty-four years."

"Alpha Vaughn will do," Torin said, but not unkindly.

She grinned at him, and turned to the wagon creaking up behind the riders.

"I brought you things. Don't thank me yet. They're only boring things."

There were eight wagons.

Dried apples, salt pork, tallow candles, bolts of wool, and a whole cart of root vegetables packed in straw.

Hester came running down from the infirmary and stopped dead.

"Winter food," she said. "For us?"

"For everyone," Linnet said. "Ronan insisted. He said a pack that eats is a pack that stays friendly."

Hester looked at Torin.

Torin looked at the wagons for a long moment.

"Thank you," he said, and it cost him something to say it.

Lucian had come up behind her, and he took my hand and bowed over it.

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