Chapter 23: The Judgment

Wynn's POV

The pack hall was full again by noon.

It was the same long room, with the same smell of wet wool and coffee.

The same platform stood at the end, where Lester had once turned a vote.

This time he stood on the floor with his hands bound in front of him and two of Aldric's soldiers at his back.

Nobody in the hall would look at him.

They looked at me instead.

The King's army stood along the walls, and the King himself sat at the end of the front bench with his hands loose between his knees.

I had never felt so many people waiting for me to speak.

"The law is the Alpha's to read," Dad said from the platform. "But the girl asked first, and I told her she could ask it in public."

He nodded at me.

My knees were unsteady, and I stood up anyway.

"Lester Colcord left a nine-day-old baby in the snow," I said. "He sold a hall full of people to the rogues who burned it."

The room murmured.

"For sixteen years he fed this pack moonroot so it would forget me. And he was about to hand me over to the people who burned the hall."

I took a breath.

"The King has the right to ask for his life. Aldric could do it tonight, and no one in this room would stop him."

"I'd like it noted that I haven't asked," Aldric said, mildly.

"He hasn't," I said. "I asked him not to."

A man in the third row stood up, shaking.

"He was right about one thing," the man said, and pointed at Lester. "He said it on the ridge, in front of everyone. We'll never be safe."

Some people nodded.

"There's a King's daughter living in our house," the man said. "Every enemy the Marchmonts ever made will come looking."

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