Chapter 5: Her Terms

The Lycan carriage was black and plain, with two grey horses and six armed riders in front and behind.

I sat across from Soren Hallowell with my baskets on my knees.

Gwen, Joss and the starving warrior followed in a covered wagon with a Lycan healer.

Nobody had asked me whether I wanted any of this.

"Before we cross the border," I said, "we're going to settle something."

Soren folded his hands. "Say it."

"You said in front of the whole pack that I was under your protection."

"I did."

"I'm grateful for that. I'm not grateful enough to be claimed."

"I told you I'd wait for your word."

"Then here are my terms, and I want them in plain speech."

He nodded once. "Go on."

"One. You don't claim me. Not in public, not in private, and not by accident. If it ever happens, it happens because I say the word."

"Agreed."

"Two. You don't touch me unless I ask."

His eyes stayed on mine.

"Agreed," he said. "That one will cost me more."

I ignored that.

"Three. I can leave any day I choose. No guards, no locked doors, no excuses."

"The gates open from the inside," he said. "Agreed."

"Four. I pay my way. I'm not a charity case, and I'm not a guest who sits in a window."

"You ran the second-largest pack's treasury without a single mentor," Soren said. "I wouldn't dare insult you with a charity."

"Good. Then we understand each other."

"We do." He leaned back. "Now may I say something?"

"That depends."

"I felt it, when you ended the marriage."

"Felt what?"

He did not answer at once.

The carriage jolted over a rut, and I pitched forward.

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