Chapter 13: What's Mine

"Let's talk about what's mine."

Nobody on the Stone said a word.

Roderick knelt at my feet with his palms flat on the slab.

I held my father's sword in one hand and walked around him, slowly.

"First," I said. "The ring."

He raised his head.

The gold wolf-head ring sat on his right hand, where it had sat since the night I gave it to him.

"Take it off, Roderick."

"It's mine," he whispered. "You gave it to me."

"I gave it to a man I thought loved me."

"I do love you."

"You tied me to a bed and told me you would mark another woman."

A low sound went around the circle.

It was not pity.

Roderick looked at the ring.

He tried to pull it off, and his hand shook so hard that the ring caught on his knuckle.

"Hester," I said.

She came forward and took his wrist in her small strong hands.

She twisted the ring over his knuckle without a word and dropped it into my palm.

It was still warm from his skin.

I closed my fist around it.

"Second," I said. "The sword."

"You're holding it."

"Your belt has carried it for days. Whose grave did it come out of?"

His mouth opened and shut.

"Colm did it," Roderick said.

"On your order."

"On my..." He stopped.

Every wolf at the edge of the circle was looking at him.

"On my order," he said.

The sound that went through the pack then was louder.

A man near the front spat on the ground.

"Third," I said. "Your circlet."

Roderick's hand went to the iron band across his brow.

"You can't take it. Only the pack can."

"Then ask them."

I turned to the ridge.

"Greyhollow. Does this wolf still hold your circlet?"

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