Chapter 4: Silver on My Tongue

On the seventh day I walked into the Highmoor moot hall to sign the Council's book.

The hall was full, because it was market morning and the whole valley had come to hear the notices.

The clerk pushed the book across the table without looking up.

"Fenwick," he said. "Sign."

I signed.

A woman behind me said, loud enough to carry, "That's the one who got left."

"The other twin's a lady now," said her friend. "In the king's own house."

"They say the king hates twins, though."

"He only has to hate one of them."

Someone laughed.

I put the pen down very carefully and kept my face blank.

Last life, I had walked out of this hall in a carriage while they clapped.

This time I walked out on foot, and nobody clapped.

I had made it to the door when a scream went up from the back of the hall.

A young mother pushed through the crowd with a toddler in her arms.

The little boy's body was arched and stiff, and his lips had a blue edge.

"He was fine at breakfast!" she cried. "Where's the healer? Is there any healer?"

"The village healer's at the Aldermere farm," the clerk said. "She won't be back before dark."

"He'll be dead by dark!"

Nobody moved.

They looked at each other, and then, slowly, they looked at me.

"Neve's got a bit of a wolf," someone muttered.

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