Chapter 7: Corwin's POV: The Wrong Twin's Scent

Corwin's POV

Bram Hallam left my courtyard with his wife's arm clamped in his hand and his face the color of ash.

"This goes to the Council," he said from the car window. "All of it."

"Good," I said. "I'll bring the Elder's copy."

He rolled the window up, and the Silvermoon men drove out behind him without looking back.

Garrick stood a long moment by the gate with his hands hanging.

Then he followed his father's car on foot, and nobody stopped him.

Katja had gone upstairs in a blanket, and I had not followed her.

I had stayed in the courtyard until the engines faded.

I did not trust what my hands would do if I climbed those stairs.

That was three hours ago.

Now it was night, and I sat in my study with the lamp off.

My palm lay on the desk, still warm.

I could feel the back of her neck in it.

I had touched an intern.

In seven years of running this house, I had never done it, and the handshake in my courtyard had been the nearest I'd come.

Today I had put my whole hand into the fur of a wolf I had known for four days.

I had done it in front of her family, because I could not stand watching her shake.

My wolf had been calm for the first time since I was nineteen.

I did not know what to do with that.

I turned on the desk lamp, and the treaty lay under it where I'd left it, in its black folder.

Twenty years ago my father had signed it with Bram Hallam, to end a border feud that had killed eleven wolves.

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