Chapter 13: The Luna's Daughter

The clock over the stove ticked, and nobody spoke.

Then Mom did, because Dad couldn't.

"My sister was the Luna of Blackwater," she said.

I stared at her.

"She had your mouth."

"The Luna," I said. "Whose mate?"

"Aldric Pierce's," Dad said. "He led that hall for nine years, and he was the best man I ever served."

"Pierce."

"Hiram was his younger brother."

I thought of a gray truck coming up our drive.

I thought of a man with a whiskey bottle, shaking my hand in both of his.

"He stood in our yard," I said.

"I know."

"He asked me to touch the stone."

"I know, Jessa."

Mom's grip on my wrist got tighter, and I let her.

"Tell me the rest," I said. "All of it. I'm not going to ask twice."

Dad put his hands flat on the table again.

"It was the winter feast. Hiram came up the river road after dark with a dozen men, and he came in smiling."

"Aldric walked out to meet him on the hall steps with his hands open."

"He thought it was his brother."

Dad's voice didn't shake, and that was how I knew how much it cost him.

"Hiram put a knife in him in front of the doors."

My nails dug into my palms.

"Then somebody set the nursery wing on fire, so there would be no heir to argue about."

"Who?"

"Hiram's men. On his word."

"And my mother?" I said. "My real one."

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