Chapter 18: The Hartwell Hearth

The Hartwell lodge was lit from end to end when we got back, and every window had a wolf in it.

Forty of ours stood watch on the porch and the roof.

Corbin went up the steps ahead of us, and a cousin handed him a rifle.

"No guns," I said.

"They're tranquilizer rounds," Corbin said. "Rafe's men have silver."

I looked at him for a moment.

He had not eaten or slept in a day, and there was still gravel in his hair from the compound.

"You can take the door," I said. "That's all."

"That's all I want."

"It isn't forgiveness."

"I know."

He sat down on the top step with the rifle across his knees, and I walked past him into my grandfather's house.

Alden was propped on four pillows in the big bed upstairs.

The nurse had brought a lamp, and in its light his face was gray and thin.

His blanket was folded over his knees.

The oxygen line was back where it belonged.

When I came in, he opened his pale gray eyes.

"There you are, little wolf," he said.

His voice was a thread.

I sat on the edge of the bed and took his hand.

It was cold and dry and weighed nothing.

"Grandpa," I said. "I need to ask you something, and I need you to say yes."

"Ask."

"The Council says I lose the Hartwell seat, because of Ewan."

"I know what the third article says."

"They'll let me keep it if you take him into the Hartwell hearth before dawn."

He turned his head on the pillow.

Ewan stood in the doorway with his hands at his sides.

He hadn't come any farther, and I understood he wouldn't until he was asked.

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