Chapter 18: Silence Is an Answer

The Ironwood hall held four packs by ten o'clock, and none of them were quiet.

Wolves filled the benches under the high beams, and Cold Ridge warriors stood along the walls with their arms folded.

At the far end stood a heavy oak table, with the Cold Ridge Alpha in the center chair.

Dorian sat on his right, with the woman Alpha and the older Alpha beside him.

Imogen sat two chairs down, in white, with her hands folded.

I stood in the open floor in front of them with Mabel on one side and Padraig on the other.

At the back wall, an iron ring was set into the stone, with a short chain hanging from it.

I had never asked what it was for.

"The claim of Cold Ridge has been made before witnesses," the old man said. "Does anyone contest it?"

"I do," Alasdair said.

He came down the aisle with the whole room turning to watch him.

He stopped beside me, close enough for his arm to touch mine, and he did not look at me yet.

"Odette Swinburne is my fated mate," he said.

The hall went mad.

Benches scraped, and a hundred voices spoke at once, and somebody laughed.

The old man struck the table with his open hand, and the sound cracked down the room.

"A mate-claim outranks a pack claim," he said. "That is also the law. But it must be proven."

"I'll prove it," Alasdair said.

"The law asks three things. The claimant is bound to the iron ring, so that his voice cannot compel her."

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