Chapter 10: What the Glove Hid

Torin's POV

"Not here," I said.

Gunnar looked at me with his head tilted, patient and sad. "Then where, nephew?"

"I'll tell her myself. Tonight."

"Of course you will."

He nodded to the two Council guards, and one of them stepped toward Linnea.

I moved before I knew it, and I stood between them.

The guard stopped.

"Torin," Linnea said behind me. "What is he talking about?"

"Ingrid is waiting at the bottom of the ridge," Gunnar said kindly. "She's brought hot tea. Please, Miss Aaberg."

I turned around.

Linnea's face was white, and her grey eyes were fixed on mine.

I wanted to tell her. The words were in my mouth.

"Go and get warm," I said. "I'll come and find you tonight. I swear it."

She looked at me for a long time. Then she walked away down the slope, alone, and didn't look back.

She was angry. I could smell it. Under the anger was the fear I had put there.

I watched her until the pines took her.

The Council room is a low stone chamber behind the great hall, with a round oak table and twelve empty chairs.

Gunnar shut the door and sat at the head, because he always sits at the head.

He folded his hands.

"You are the Alpha," he said. "I don't need to remind you of the law."

"Then don't."

"I will, because you forget when she looks at you." He said it without cruelty. "Take off the glove."

I didn't move.

"Torin."

I took off the glove.

I do this once a week, alone, in the dark, because I can't stand to look at it more often than that.

On the inside of my left wrist there is a ring of bite marks, white and puckered, healed over for two years.

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