Chapter 7: Honey and Thorns

For four days I had stared at three copies of my own looping M.

Someone had learned my hand, and I did not know who.

Rowan had written to the Council clerk for the original pages. No answer yet.

On the tenth day, Pru Wexley drove up to the MacClellan gate alone.

She had Hugo in a sling and a gift basket on her arm, and she was crying before she reached the steps.

I was in the great hall with Lark, helping three Omegas fold the pack's laundry.

We were arguing about whose turn it was to fold the fitted sheets.

The hall doors opened.

Everyone stopped folding.

"Morwen," Pru said. "Oh, Morwen. I'm so glad you're safe."

She set the basket on a table.

It held a lace christening gown, two tins of the expensive formula and a bottle of honey wine.

"I'm so sorry for everything," she said. "I never knew Bram had a daughter."

"I swear on the Moon, I only found out in the ward."

The Omega beside me, a broad woman with flour on her sleeves, picked up the lace gown and held it at arm's length.

"The dress is nice," she murmured. "Do you want her out, or do you want me to burn it first?"

"Wait," I said. "Let her finish."

Pru wiped her eyes. "I came to ask you to come home. Not as his mate. As his friend."

"I'll be Luna, and you can have the north den and keep Lark."

"Nobody has to be hurt."