Chapter 14: Hunter's Moon

Wyatt looked at the basket for a long time.

"Then I'm coming with you," he said.

"It's Redmoor's hall. An Ironpine Alpha hasn't walked into it in nineteen years."

"The card says Council observers will be there." He tapped the gold edge. "Nobody lays a hand on a guest in front of the Council. Not even Rhodes."

"And if he does?"

"Then the Council watches him do it."

On the night of the Hunter's Moon, we crossed the bridge at dusk.

Wyatt drove.

His Beta followed in a second truck with four Ironpine warriors in the bed.

I was twelve weeks and two days.

The Redmoor pack house was lit up like a wedding.

Two warriors stood at the steps.

They saw Wyatt get out of the truck and both of them went a step backward.

Then they saw me.

"You can't come in here," one of them said.

I held up the gold-edged invitation.

"I was called to witness," I said. "In writing."

A man in a long gray coat stepped out of the doorway behind them.

He was older, with a Council pin on his lapel, a silver crescent over a wolf's head.

He took the card and read it, then read the pink line at the bottom.

"She was invited," he said to the warriors. "By name. Let her in."

"Not him."

"An invited guest may bring an escort." The observer handed the card back to me. "Alpha Strand. Your people stay outside."

Wyatt nodded once to his Beta.

The great hall was full.

The high table had been moved off the dais.

In its place stood the old stone altar from the Moon Stone path, carried down for the night.

On the altar sat the Luna's cup, a silver bowl I'd drunk from two years ago.

Every wolf in Redmoor was on their knees on the stone floor.

All of them, facing the dais.

They were halfway through the oath.

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