Chapter 4: Ask the Council

Nobody on the terrace moved while the wine soaked into the stone.

Then Timothy Ramsay came through the door behind his son.

He looked at the glass, at Leon, at Dinah, at me in a stranger's coat.

Last, he looked at Crispin.

For one second his smile was gone.

It came back so quickly that I would have missed it if I hadn't spent four years watching that smile.

"Clumsy, son," Timothy said, and put a hand on Leon's back. "Mr. Rooke, I'm told you've come about the treaty. Let's talk in the morning."

"Of course, Alpha," Crispin said.

His voice was perfectly polite.

His eyes never left Timothy's face.

Leon was staring at Crispin with his lips slightly apart.

"Who is he?" he said hoarsely.

"A guest," Timothy said. "Come inside. You're cold."

He steered his son back through the door.

Dinah gave me a worried glance and followed.

I stayed where I was, in Crispin's coat, with the second pulse hammering under my skin.

"Give me one reason not to do it," I said.

"Do what?"

"What I've been told for four years I can't."

Crispin looked at me for a long moment.

"I can't give you a reason," he said. "I can only tell you I won't stop you."

I walked back into the hall with his coat still on.

The toasts had begun.

Wolves stood at their tables with glasses raised, and the three council Alphas sat at the high table with the Ramsay family on either side.

One of them was an old woman with white braids and a rough voice.

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