Chapter 18: Blood Moon

Orla's POV

The Blood Moon table stood in a ring of standing stones on top of the ridge.

The moon hung over it, huge and red, and a hundred wolves stood on the grass in a circle.

Lucan stood at the edge of the ring, an entire table's length from me, with Tobias at his side.

He did not look at anything but my face.

Brock came in last, in his best grey suit, with the healer on his arm and two Alphas I did not know walking behind him.

The envoy sat at the head of the table, and the old dealer sat at her right.

He was a thin man with white hair and milky eyes, and he held a deck of black cards in both shaking hands.

"The Court is open," the envoy said.

Brock stepped forward and bowed.

"I claim a lost prize," he said, loud enough for the back row.

"My mate, Orla Ardmore. The King took her by trickery and forged a ledger to keep her."

A murmur went through the wolves.

"I have the votes of the northern pack and the Dry Fork," he said.

"And I'll settle it at the table, one hand, if the lady has the nerve."

I stood up from my chair.

"I'll play," I said.

Brock grinned.

The healer gave me a small, kind smile, the same one she had given me at eighteen.

I sat down across the green felt.

The old dealer shuffled with slow, careful hands and set the deck in front of him.

"One card each," the envoy said. "High card wins. The Court cuts the deck."

"The dealer cuts," the healer said smoothly. "It is the custom."

"It is," the envoy said, and looked at the dealer.

His hands began to shake harder.

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