Chapter 22: The Seat

Morven's POV

Aldric was at the east gate before the sun.

He stood in the road in his plain shirt with no weapon and no mantle, and his hands hung empty at his sides.

I came up the road from the river with Rowan on my hip and Linnet in the sling at my chest.

The old elder walked behind me. Behind him came Torin and the Greywater women, and behind them half of Duskmoor.

My arm was in a sling of its own. The healer had said it would scar.

"You came," I said.

"You told me to."

"Open the gate."

He looked at me.

"It's yours," I said. "Open it."

He put both hands on the bar and swung it wide.

I walked through the gate I had run out of with a screaming newborn.

I did not stop until I reached the top step of the pack house.

The doors stood open.

The hall was full.

Every elder, warrior, cook and child of Duskmoor stood on the flagstones in a silent crowd.

The benches were pushed back to the walls.

At the far end stood the high seat, a black oak chair with a wolf carved into the back.

I had scrubbed the floor in front of it more times than I could count.

I had never once sat in a chair in that room.

The old elder came forward.

"Lady," he said. "By the law of Ashenfell, any child of the line may claim the seat before the pack."

"I know the law."

"You only have to stand up."

I handed Rowan to Torin, who took him without a word.

I walked up the hall.

Six hundred people watched me do it.

I felt the white lock at my temple, and I did not cover it.

At the foot of the dais I stopped, and the bond pulled behind me, and I knew without turning that Aldric had followed, and stopped at the door.

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