Chapter 12: Cora Is His Daughter

The letter was thin and brown at the folds.

I read it standing up under Rowan's lantern.

*Gareth. I am sure now. I am carrying your child.*

*Your brother thinks it is his. He is so happy that he has ordered a cradle.*

*Linnea has only just had Tilda, and she is tired, and she trusts me.*

*You said that when the time came, you would make it right. I am frightened. Burn this.*

There was no name at the bottom.

There did not need to be.

I looked at the date in the corner.

Twenty-three years ago.

Cora was twenty-three.

I read it again, and then I put it back in the box and shut the lid.

My hands were quite steady.

"Linnea," Rowan said.

"I'm going to the house."

"I'll come."

"Yes," I said. "As a witness."

We crossed the yard with the box under my arm.

The four Elders who had stood with me fell in behind us, slow and grim, and the Alpha's guards on the steps looked at them and stepped aside.

I did not knock.

Gareth's study door was open, and the room was full of lamplight.

Cora lay on a couch under the window with a healer bending over her.

Both her hands were wrapped in white bandage to the wrist.

Her mother sat beside her and held her shoulder.

Gareth stood at the desk with his back to the door.

He turned when he heard me.

"Get out of my house."

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