Chapter 19: The Bride's Chest

I wore the grey cloak into Highgate hall.

It fell from my shoulders to the floor in the torchlight, heavy and new, with the white wolf tracks along the hem.

Every Marches pack had come for the wedding.

The Alpha of Highgate sat at the high table, a hard old man with Lucian's mouth, and he did not rise for us.

Torin walked at my side with no blade at his belt.

Hester walked behind us, and outside the door she had left a farm cart with a man lying under a blanket.

Ronan stood at the bride's right hand in his green coat with an iron key hung from his belt.

Linnet came down the stair last.

She was dazzling.

Her gown was white, with a sash of deep river-green silk wound twice about her waist, and the hall went quiet to look at her.

She came straight to me with her arms out.

"Bron. You wore it."

"You asked me to."

"I'm so glad."

I let her kiss my cheek and looked past her ear at the sash.

One end of it hung ragged.

A strip as long as my hand had been torn off the corner, and the torn edge was bright.

"Let's begin," the Alpha of Highgate said, and rose.

"Not yet," Ronan said.

The hall turned.

He stepped out into the open floor, with his arm still in its sling.

"A Redmere bride's chest is opened before her vows. Our father did it for our mother. I'd like to keep the custom."

"The custom is at the feast," Linnet said. She said it lightly, still smiling. "Ronan, don't be silly. Later."

"Now."

"It's only linens, darling. It would bore everyone."

"Then it will be quick."

"Ronan." Her smile slipped for half a breath, and it was an order again. "Not yet."

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