Chapter 18: Rigged

The old stone circle stood on the hill behind the castle, nine grey pillars around one dark flat stone.

By dusk, three hundred wolves had climbed the hill to watch me fail.

Dane stood at my right shoulder, still pale from the tannery.

He had refused to sit.

"Your heart," I said.

"It's fine."

"It's lying."

"It's beating," he said. "That's all I need from it tonight."

Rowena sat on a carved stool at the edge of the ring with her shawl up and her ladies fanned behind her.

She looked entirely at ease.

That worried me more than anything.

The king stood to one side with his hands behind his back, and he didn't look at me once.

"The test of silver," said Mother Elder.

She held up a cup.

It was old and heavy and black with age, and the physician carried it to me on a tray.

He wouldn't meet my eyes.

"The bearer of silver drinks," Mother Elder said, "and the moon-stone answers. If it stays dark, you are no Cardross."

I took the cup.

The smell came up before the liquid reached my mouth.

Green and bitter and grassy, the same smell as the milk.

Wolfsbane.

Not a pinch, this time.

A full dose would drop a wolf in her tracks and pin her in her skin for a day.

They hadn't made a test.

They'd made a trap.

Every wolf in that ring expected a Cardross to shift, and after that cup I couldn't.

I lifted my head.

Rowena was watching me with her lips parted, almost eager.

Dane had gone rigid beside me.

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