Chapter 22: Marry Me Again

Carys's POV

I caught him before his head hit the grass.

He was heavy and hot, and the cut across his ribs ran black at the edges.

"Healer!" I shouted. "Somebody get a healer!"

Three serpents in gray robes were already running across the meadow.

One knelt and put two fingers to the wound, and sniffed it.

"Silver," she said. "It is not deep. He will live."

"He's bleeding on my skirt."

"That is a good sign. He is bleeding red."

She packed the cut with something green and wrapped it.

Two men lifted him onto a stretcher that somebody had had the sense to bring.

I walked beside it with my hand on his chest.

His eyes opened halfway.

"Carys," he said thickly. "Did I win?"

"You won."

"Was it tidy?"

"It was extremely tidy."

"Good." His eyes closed again. "I wish it noted that the tail did it."

"I'll note it."

The Elders were waiting at the wall.

Behind them, in the silver light, Garrick Holt knelt on the grass.

His hands were bound behind his back.

Two wolves held him by the arms.

The older one was the lieutenant who cried at songs.

He was not crying now.

"Garrick Holt," said the eldest Elder. "You have been heard."

"You kept a man tied in a cellar and fed him stew."

"You carried a banned metal onto a border you swore to keep."

"You lied to your own pack for five years about the day your brothers died."

"They were my brothers," Garrick said hoarsely. "You do not understand. If the pack knew, they would have cursed their names."

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