Chapter 30: The Measure

Ewan's POV

The Measure is held at dusk, on neutral ground, with no seconds and no weapons.

Greywater had chosen the north shore of its own lake.

It was a long strip of grey stones, with the water black and flat beside it.

Thea had put Daphne's note in my hand the night before.

Forty beats a minute, in a girl of nineteen, and a little book to write it in.

"He's measuring her," Thea had said. "Like grain."

I told her where I was going and when, and that I would be back before the moon was high.

She kissed me hard at the gate and let me go.

I walked the last mile on foot, because the law says the challenged Alpha comes in by the front.

Hamish Gault was already waiting on the stones.

He had no hat tonight.

He stood bareheaded in the last of the light, with a flask in one hand and a lantern at his feet.

"Ewan," he said warmly. "Thank you for coming. I know how little you must want to."

"The law says I come."

"The law is a kind of courtesy." He held out the flask. "Brandy. My late wife's recipe. I won't be offended."

"No."

"No," he agreed, and drank it himself.

He talked easily for a while about the lake and the early cold.

He spoke of the wolves of Greywater, who were good people and tired of being second.

I watched his hands.

They were steady.

The high country whispered that his wolf was failing, but he did not look like a failing man.

"You're not listening," Hamish said, gently.

"I'm listening."

"I only ask because I'd like you to hear this part."

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