Chapter 19: The Wolf in the Chair

The doctor told it plainly, with his hands shaking and his eyes on the table.

Edmund Ashdown had come to his clinic in September with a typed sheet and a check.

He had said the Luna must be found barren by the end of the month.

The date on the sheet had come later, on a card, in a woman's handwriting.

"Whose?" asked the old elder at the end of the table.

The doctor did not look at Cecily.

"I'll say whose when she's in the room," he said. "She is. She knows."

Cecily's chin had gone up, white-lipped.

Her father stood.

"This is the word of a bought man against the word of the old Alpha."

"I agree," Edmund said, from the front bench.

He rose, leaning on the cane. His voice was calm, and courteous, and cold.

"The doctor lies. The girl lies.

"My son is sick and his wolf is dying, and there is no white wolf in this hall.

"I will not sit while a stranger from a lake claims a chair empty for thirty years."

"Then I'll show you," I said.

Cecily's father struck the table.

"We do not shift at Council!"

"The law says I stand in my coat," I said. "Hugh, read the line."

"It's the next page," said the old elder, before Hugh could.

"A white wolf proves herself to the table in her own skin. Let her."

The six men and women at the table looked at one another.

Nobody spoke.

I went down the dais steps and across the stone floor to the open space in front of the benches.

Keep reading free with an account. Start The Alpha's Regret: Rejecting His Fated White Wolf Mate from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.