Chapter 14: Drink to Your Luna

I did not touch the glass.

Sydney finished the table, set the jug down by Dane's elbow, and went to stand behind his chair.

"Linnea," Soren said, very low, beside me. "Your wine."

"I know. Sydney put something in it."

His hand closed on the table edge. I felt his wolf come up through the bond, fast and hot.

"Don't," I said. "Not yet. Do you trust me?"

A breath went by.

"Yes."

"Then sit still and watch."

I caught the pack healer's eye down the table. She was the short woman with grey braids, and she had been watching Sydney all evening.

I touched my own glass, then pointed at my chest, and she gave me a very small nod and moved her chair back from the table.

I lifted the glass an inch and smelled it.

Bitter and faintly sweet. It was the smell of the tin in the pantry.

Moonroot, and a lot more than a pinch.

I was nearly sure it wouldn't kill anyone. It was what Sydney had put in Dane's cup every day for four years.

It would only silence a wolf, and a silent Maple would have meant a failed Rite.

Dane stood up and tapped his gold-rimmed cup with a spoon.

"To our guests," he said. "To the Prince, and to the Rite that will be held on our ridge."

"To the Rite," the hall said back.

I stood with my glass in my hand.

"Alpha Callender," I said.

The hall went quiet.

"At a Stonebrook feast, the guest of honor passes her cup to the host. It's the oldest courtesy we have."