Chapter 17: Sunset at the Ridge

My father stood at the gate in the same coat he had worn at the ford, with a small leather satchel under his arm.

The beta's badge lay in his open palm.

Ronan came down the path half-dressed, his shirt buttoned wrong, and every wolf on the wall turned to watch him.

I came behind, with my hair wet and my father's eyes going straight to the mark on my neck.

He saw it and shut his eyes.

"I'm not here for forgiveness," he said. "Word ran down the valley that you'd found the steward."

He opened the satchel. "I kept every letter your mother wrote me, Alpha. Thirty-two years. I thought they were the proof of why I did what I did."

He held out a bundle tied with kitchen string.

"They're yours. They're also evidence. I'll stand in your hall at noon and swear to every word, if you'll have me."

Ronan took the bundle.

His hand was not steady.

"You'll have a place at the back," he said.

"That's all I want."

My father looked at me once, and I gave him nothing.

Then Garth took him away to a bench by the gatehouse, and Ronan and I walked back up the slope in silence.

At noon the great hall was packed to the doors.

Two hundred wolves sat on benches and stood against the walls.

The elder was brought in between four guards, and he did not look like a man who was afraid.

He looked bored.

Ronan sat in his father's chair at the head of the table, and I sat on his left, in the Luna's seat, with every eye on the bite at my neck.

The Seer spoke first.

She told the hall what she had smelled in the cup, and her voice was dry and exact.

The steward came next, carried in on a chair by two wolves, his face still black with soot.

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