Chapter 4: The Petition

The Moon Court sat in the same marble hall where I had laughed three days earlier.

Today it was full to the doors.

Every pack in the capital had sent someone to see the Fitzalan Luna's rejection torn up or upheld.

The priestess sat on the high chair with two wardens at her sides.

I sat alone on a bench on the left.

On the right sat Dahlia in grey, a handkerchief in her fist, and behind her Ronan, Elias and Corin with a sheet of paper between them.

Nolan sat at the very end of the row with his hands between his knees.

The healer sat beyond him, by himself.

"The petitioner may speak," the priestess said.

Dahlia stood.

"My sister is not well," she said, and her voice shook just enough. "She hasn't slept in days. She laughs at nothing. She laughed at the altar."

"I did," I said. "It was funny."

"I only want her safe," Dahlia said. "A rejection spoken in a fever is no rejection. The Goddess herself would say so."

A murmur ran through the benches.

The priestess raised a hand. "The mates may speak."

Ronan stood. "We join the petition. She was not herself. We ask the Court to restore the bonds, and the lands."

"And the coin," Corin added.

"And the coin," Ronan agreed.

Elias stood too, jaw tight, and said nothing, but he put his name on the paper.

Corin signed. Ronan signed.

Nolan did not stand.

The healer did not stand.

The priestess looked at the two of them for a long moment and said nothing.

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