Chapter 7: Kendra's Tears

I did not sleep.

I lay on a huge bed under a quilt that smelled of cedar and watched the ceiling go from black to grey.

My left shoulder had not stopped humming since the stairs.

At six I gave up, dressed and went to check on Hazel.

She was awake.

She sat propped against three pillows with a cup of broth on her knee and her braid undone, and she looked ten years older and absolutely furious.

"Orla," she said. "Close the door."

I closed it.

"The healer," she said. "Where is she?"

"At Silver Creek. She wasn't arrested. Nobody can touch a pack healer without the Alpha's word."

"Then we'll need a different word." Her voice was thin but steady. "I'll tell you the rest when I can stand. Not here. These walls have ears."

"Gran, what did you mean about the mark?"

She looked at the door.

"Not yet," she said. "Eat something. Go and be seen."

"Be seen?"

"Walk the hold, child. Let the King's wolves watch you. A girl they've seen is a girl they'll defend."

I opened my mouth to argue, and she shut her eyes.

"Go."

I went.

I walked the east gallery and the courtyard, and the guards nodded to me as I passed.

One of them brought me a coffee without being asked.

At nine a guard came across the yard at a jog.

"Ms. Ardmore. There's a woman at the gate. Silver Creek. She says she's your friend."

My stomach dropped.

"Kendra?"

"Blond, crying. She won't leave."

"Let her in."

Kendra stood in the garden by the gate, barefoot in the wet grass with her shoes in her hand.

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