Chapter 14: What He Owes

"You don't ask," the old woman said. "The council decides."

She said it to Duncan, but she looked at the whole hall.

The old women of the council bent their heads together at the table, and four hundred wolves waited in the lantern smoke.

It took them ten minutes.

I watched the clock over the doors, because it was better than watching Duncan shake.

"An Alpha who lies to his mate for a year and a half does not sit the Alpha's chair," the old woman said.

Duncan nodded.

"An Alpha who calls the lie home in front of his pack, at the risk of a girl's life and his own, is not thrown out of the house he was born in."

She let that settle.

"Duncan Harrow, you have one year. Clint Harlow acts as Alpha. You keep no chair, no pack house and no vote."

"Yes," Duncan said.

"You answer to this council at each new moon."

"Yes."

"At the end of the year, one person says whether you take the chair again."

Duncan lifted his head.

"Not us," said the old woman. "Her."

The whole hall turned and looked at me.

I had not asked for that.

I understood, standing there with one hand on my stomach, that it was the first time anyone in that room had asked what I wanted.

"I won't say anything tonight," I said.

"You will not be asked tonight."

"Then I have one thing."

The old woman raised an eyebrow.

"The book," I said. "You said the child must be entered today."

She opened it on the table.

It was a huge black ledger, and the page was ruled in faded red.

"Mother," she said, with the pen over the line. "Hazel Corrigan. And the father?"

"Duncan Harrow."

"Alpha of?"

"Currently," I said, "nothing."

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