Chapter 22: The Last Day

On the last morning of the year and a day, I woke before dawn and found his side of the bed cold.

He was in the courtyard, standing at the main gate of Highcrown in his shirtsleeves.

The gate was open.

The road beyond it ran pale and empty through the mist, down toward the river and north to Greywater.

I came up beside him with my cloak around my shoulders.

"You've been here since midnight," I said.

"Since the last bell."

"That's not a king's job."

"It's my job today." He did not turn his head. "Someone has to open it."

"You could have sent a guard."

"No."

I looked at him.

He had a year more of grey in his hair, and a white seam along his forearm that matched the one I had healed twice.

He looked more rested than I had ever seen him, and more frightened.

"There's a delegation," he said. "They rode in last night. Cullen said not to wake you."

"What delegation?"

"Greywater."

Behind us the hall doors opened.

Cullen Dacre came down the steps in the Alpha's grey cloak, with the plain gold ring on his hand and Brigid on his arm.

Twenty wolves of the pack walked behind them, in their best.

Brigid's hair had grown back to her shoulders, white as bone.

"Girl," she said. "You've gone thin."

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