My Gown Had No Gems, So I Walked Out of My Own Bonding Ceremony novel · Chapter 1 of 32
Chapter 1: Bare
At her bonding ceremony the pack elder counts zero gems on Clara's gown and her father tells four hundred wolves she sent them all back; she crosses the salt line and the Ironwood Alpha follows her into the snow to ask what he was supposed to find on her gown.
My father told four hundred wolves, softly and with great sorrow, that I had sent back every gem he ever gave me.
He said it standing in the bonding circle, in the snow, an arm's length from my gown.
The gown had no gems on it.
Every Snow Moon daughter gets one snowflake gem on her gown each birthday, one for every year she has lived.
On the day she bonds, the pack elder counts them out loud with a staff.
The elder had just touched her staff to my collar, my sleeves and my hem.
"Nothing," she said, loud enough for the back rows. "Twenty-two years, and nothing."
Nobody in the circle made a sound.
Margot had laced me into this gown an hour ago.
She had tied the last ribbon, patted my shoulder and said, "Stand tall. Dad promised me he'd handle it."
Now she stood at his side in a gown that glittered from collar to hem, the bottom rows all one bright, newer cut.
"Dad," I said. "You never sent me a single gem."
"I set one on every gown you wore," my father said. "Every spring, in front of the whole pack."
"You told me we hadn't mined enough stones."
"I told you what kept the peace."
His voice was heavy and kind, the voice he used on the whole pack.
"Alpha Coyle, I'm sorry to do this before your people," he said, turning, and he laid a hand on my shoulder as if to steady me. "The gems came back to me, every one. I won't shame her further by saying why."
On the far side of the circle, the man I was supposed to bond today did not move.
Jasper Coyle was the Alpha of the Ironwood Pack, across the lake.
My father had told me about the treaty six weeks ago.
Jasper and I had spoken twice at Council, both times about the weather.
He was in a black coat with his hands in the pockets, and he was looking at my gown.
Then he looked at my father, and then at me.
He did not say a word.
Every year on my birthday, a courier had crossed the lake road with a small wrapped box.
My father always carried it into his study and shut the door.
I had stopped asking what was in it when I was nine.
"What was in the boxes, Dad?" I said.
My mother's hand closed on my sleeve.
"Clara," said Mama. "Please. Not here."
She did not say it was untrue.
"Dad's tired," Margot said, stepping toward me with her palms out. "He's been up all night with the Council papers."
"We can sort this out after, Clara. Let Jasper take you home, and I'll talk to Dad myself."
Her voice was gentle, and I wanted very much to believe it.
Cecily stood behind her with her hands over her mouth.
She looked at me and her lips moved.
I'm sorry.
Then she looked at the snow.
Everyone in my pack had watched my father say that I had thrown away his gifts.
Not one of them had asked me whether it was true.
I had worked in the winter supply barn since I was fourteen.
I had hauled their firewood and counted their grain, and I had never once been late.
They stared at me now, and not one face was friendly.
The pack had shared every Founders' supper with me for twenty-two years.
I knew the name of every child in that circle, and half of them were looking away.
If I stayed, I would be bonded in a gown my own father said I had spat on, to a man who had watched it happen and said nothing.
So I stepped out.
I turned and walked across the ring of salt stones, and the snow squeaked under my slippers.
"Clara." My father's voice went flat and cold. "Cross that line and I strike your name from the pack roll."
I kept walking.
"You will not be fed or housed by this pack," he said. "Not by me, not by anyone."
I crossed the last stone.
"Let her go," I heard Margot say. "She'll be back by dark. I'll bring her round."
The cold went straight through the thin white cloth.
I walked for the treeline with my arms wrapped around myself, and nobody followed.
Then I heard boots in the snow behind me.
They were quick and heavy, and they did not stop until they were beside me.
I turned.
Jasper Coyle stood there with his coat open and his breath white in front of him.
He was not looking at the gown anymore.
He was looking at my face.
"Your father told me you would be wearing something of mine today," he said.
"I've never owned anything of yours."
"I know," said Jasper. "I would like to find out why."
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