Chapter 9: What He Didn't Ask

Ronan's POV

Ivy left the study without a word to my grandfather.

She picked her father's gray coat up off the arm of the couch and put it on.

She walked past three men without looking at any of them.

I stood in my wrinkled shirt and listened to her go down the drive.

I could feel her through the bond the whole way, a thin, angry thread pulling farther from me with every step.

It was the best I had felt in two years.

"Quite a lot of noise," Godfrey said, "for a woman who has petitioned to leave you."

I buttoned my cuffs.

"What do you want?"

"The elders and I have set the heir vote for Friday."

He put the folder on my desk, on top of the map she had crushed.

"Mirelle's pup is due in the spring. The pack needs to hear you stand behind it."

"I forfeited my vote."

"Then the elders will carry it for you. It's a formality, Ronan."

He said it gently.

I looked at him.

For six years I had done what that voice told me.

I couldn't remember when I had last checked whether it was right.

"I'll think about it," I said.

"Think quickly."

When they were gone, I sat down at the desk.

I put my hand flat on the leather where she had been.

It still held a trace of her warmth.

My wolf lay at the back of my mind with his head on his paws.

He was quiet and satisfied, and for the first time in a long while he was ashamed.

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