Chapter 9: The Key

Merrick did not speak for a long time after the Keeper left.

He walked me back up the slope and shut the cabin door, and stood with both hands flat against it.

"A duel," he said finally.

"You don't have to."

"I haven't said no."

"Merrick, he's twenty-two and he's the heir. The whole pack trains him."

"I'm twenty-seven, and I've spent nine years sharpening for this." He turned around. "I'm not afraid of Torin."

"Then what?"

"I'm afraid of what Garth will do on the day." His eyes were hard. "He won't let it be fair."

He was right. I knew it, and I hated knowing it.

We had barely lain down when something rattled at the creek. It was a stone against the water, then another.

Merrick was up first.

"Someone's at the bank," he said. "Alone."

He pulled on his boots. I put on mine.

The moon was high and cold. A single figure stood on the pack side of Cold Creek in a dark coat, hands open at his sides.

It was Torin.

He had no hunters, and he had no torch.

"I'm not here to fight," he called. "I'm here to talk to Briony."

"You can talk to me," Merrick said.

"I know." Torin's eyes flicked to him, and away. "Brother."

The word hit the air.

Merrick did not move. "Don't."

"It's true."

"So is a lot of things. You don't get to say it like it's yours."

Torin took a ragged breath. In the moonlight he looked younger and sicker than he had at the feed store.

"Briony," he said. "I'll say it plainly. I know what the gold does."

"Since when?"

"Since last night."

The silver in my chest went still.

"My mother was the Luna before you," he said. "Garth told me she got sick. I was ten. I believed it."

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