Chapter 19: Twenty Years in Glass

Sorrel's POV

We ran the boundary road as wolves, my silver one and his brown, and the miles came off under us.

My children were asleep at the Hall.

The Moon room lay under the old wing, forty feet below their beds.

The north gate stood open when we reached it, and the guard post beside it was empty.

Gareth's wolf looked at mine and showed his teeth.

We went in through the kitchen.

Thane was at the head of the cellar stairs in his skin, with a kitchen knife in his hand and blood running down his arm.

"He's below," he said. "He has the captain and four men with rifles."

"They shot me on the way in. I'm fine."

"Where are the children?"

"With the midwife and two elders, behind a locked door. Your mother wouldn't stay with them."

I shifted back in the corridor, which took longer than it should have, because my hands were shaking.

I took the coat Thane held out and went down the stairs between my two wolves, barefoot, with the coat flapping.

The Moon room blazed with light.

Somebody had strung lamps along the shelves.

Hugh stood in the middle of the stone floor with a jar in his fist and wax all over his shirt.

Around his feet lay empty jars by the dozen and a dark wet stain.

His mouth was black to the chin.

My mother's blood.

Twenty years of it in glass, hundreds of jars, and he had drunk his way down the wall.

"Sorrel," he said, thick and cheerful. "Come in. I hoped you would."

His eyes were gold.

The captain and the four men stood against the wall with their rifles up, and none of them looked pleased about it.

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