Chapter 6: The Envoy

Lucan Sunmere wanted to tear the herald's throat out, and he did not.

He stood in front of the Sun Stone with his hands loose at his sides and gave the herald nothing.

"The Goldgrass keeps no stolen goods," he said when the man had waited long enough.

"The exile is no guest of yours, King," the herald said. "He is Ironbark's by law."

"He was cast out by your Alpha before the whole pack. Ironbark has no law over what it threw away."

"And the cub?"

"Is a cub," Lucan said. "On Goldgrass grass."

The herald's eyes slid past him to the pale figure in the firelight, and a small smile touched his mouth.

"Eleven days to the first frost," he said. "Hadrick will cross the ford himself. Tell your wolf."

He turned and went off into the dark, unhurried, and Lucan listened until the last footstep was gone.

Only then did he let his hands close into fists.

Sabra was at his shoulder. She had come up silently, as she always did.

"You could have broken his spear," she said.

"I could have broken him."

"That would have started the war."

"Yes," Lucan said. "That is why I did not."

She was quiet for a time.

"You have eleven days," she said, "and he still hasn't given you his answer."

"I know how many days I have."

"You said you would wait."

"I said it in front of fifty of my pride," Lucan said. "I do not take it back."

Sabra studied his face in the dark.

"I told you the old way would be easier on both of you," she said.

"He'd have said yes by now if you'd carried him."

Lucan did not answer.

He had thought about it more than once, on the long nights on the rock.

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