Chapter 20: The Gathering

The moon rose over the lake at nine, enormous and the color of old brass.

The Keep's lawn held nine packs in nine rings, with a torch at the center of each.

Two thousand wolves stood on the grass in their best clothes, and every one of them had turned to face the stone platform where Elias and I stood.

I wore white.

Junie had found it in the Keep's old stores, a plain straight dress with no sleeves.

My left shoulder was bare, and the dead pale scar showed on it in the torchlight.

I had not drunk a drop of tea in ten days.

Elias stood beside me in black.

He did not touch me.

By law he could not, until the elders had spoken.

The oldest elder came forward on his cane, with the keeper of scents on his arm, and stopped below the platform.

"Nine packs," he said, and his thin old voice carried to the edge of the lawn.

"The Crown has taken a wife.

The council asks that she stand in the moon and show whose scent she wears.

The Crown's wife must be sealed before the packs, or the Crown must yield its voice."

Alpha Prentiss stood at the front of the Redmoon ring.

His wife stood beside him, silver-haired, in pearls.

Brant stood at their side, bandaged to the wrist, with his head down.

Sylvie was not in the Redmoon ring at all.

Nobody had said where she was.

"Maxine Garrow," said the oldest elder.

"Step into the light."

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