Chapter 4: The Beta at the Table

They brought us up to the great hall, and Harlan took a seat at the long table, easy and unhurried.

I stood at the end of it in chains.

Rorik sat at the head, and Joren stood behind his chair with his hand on his sword.

Two dozen Ironclad warriors lined the walls.

Harlan bowed to the Alpha, a small, respectful bow that he had given my father's guests for twenty years.

"Alpha Haldane. I come in peace, with no weapon but my word."

"Say it," Rorik said.

"First, a favor. My horses are spent, and so am I. Give me a bed tonight and water for the horses from the well in your yard."

"Granted," Rorik said. "Now say it."

"Moonflare is broken. You have the field and our dead, and you have my Luna." Harlan's voice caught on the last word.

He wiped his eyes with the back of his wrist.

It was beautifully done.

I had seen him do it at my father's burial, and I had thought it was grief.

"I will not waste your time," he went on. "I'm here to end this."

"On what terms?" Rorik asked.

"Our eastern lands, and the grain stores at the river keep. In return, you let the Luna go home and bury her dead."

Joren made a sound of contempt.

"Too cheap," he said. "Her pack poisoned our river."

"Yes," Harlan said quietly. "And I am sorry to say that I can prove it."

My stomach turned over.

He reached into his coat and drew out a small glass vial, no longer than a finger.

It still held a few drops of something grey.

He set it on the table between us, and every eye in the hall went to it.

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