Chapter 44: The Council of Nine

The Nine had become the Eight, and they did not sit as easily as before.

They sat on the dais in the Pinecrest Moot Hall, behind a long table.

Hamish Gault's carved chair stood empty at the center.

Nobody had dared to move it.

I stood alone on the floor in front of them in my one good dress.

Ewan sat on the front bench with his arm in a sling.

Brigid sat beside him with her stick across her knees.

The hall behind me was packed to the doors.

The heavy grey-bearded councillor tapped the table.

"The petitioner may speak."

My mouth was dry.

I had written a speech the night before, and I had thrown it in the stove.

"I'm eighteen," I said. "I turn nineteen in March. I don't know much about law."

Someone on the benches laughed, kindly.

"I know three things. I'll say them once."

I held up a finger.

"One. No silver wolf may be held, hunted, or sworn against her will."

"Not by this Council, and not by anyone with a Council pin. You voted the Writ void for me. I'm asking you to write it for everyone after me."

A second finger.

"Two. The ward clause in the Standing Right is struck."

"No guest of any house becomes the property of whoever wins it. A person is not a prize."

The woman at the end of the dais had gone very still.

"Three." My voice shook, and I let it.

"A knot may be tied only at the asking of the one who will carry it. She says so aloud at a Hearth, with her eyes open, in front of witnesses."

"And she may cut it any day she chooses, at any stone, with no one's leave."

"And if a wolf wishes to give her strength freely?" said the councillor. "As Miss Daphne Corvane did?"

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