Chapter 17: The Marshal's Seat

My father was waiting at the edge of the lycan camp when the council let out.

He stood on the road alone, with two Blackfell guards in front of him and his hat in his hands.

I had never seen him hold his own hat.

"Nerys."

"Alpha of Ashmere."

He flinched.

"I'd like a word," he said. "Alone."

"You can say it here."

I felt Madoc stop three steps behind me, and I did not need to look to know he was ready.

My father looked at the guards, and at the lycans watching from the cookfires, and he lowered his voice.

"You must understand what Hadrian offered."

"I'm listening."

"The Marshal's seat."

The words came out quick.

"Ashmere's Alpha, the Marshal of the whole realm. He said it was a wedding gift for Cecily."

"When?"

"The night before the Stone."

"The night before he marked me."

My father's mouth worked.

"He did not tell me about you," he said.

"I did not know he would choose you first. I only knew one of you would be Luna."

"And you wanted it to be the one who'd make you Marshal."

"I wanted it to be the one who would be safe."

"By safe, you mean the one who's second."

"Nerys."

"You called me overwrought in front of the Alphas," I said. "You said you were speaking for me."

"I had no choice."

"You looked at the dirt, when he rejected me. I was standing right there, and you looked at the dirt."

He said nothing.

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