The Alpha's Claim on the Border Ledger novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: The Truce Table

Osric MacIlroy calls the mark theft and demands her back in front of both packs; Rhona reads a dead widow's name aloud, and Luna Lorna's sweet gift of a flask makes Torin say it smells like a lie.

Hawkscar's great hall was built to make visitors feel small.

Both packs filled it, Hawkscar wolves along the walls and Mirefold's thirty standing stiff in the middle under their white flag.

I stood at Torin's right hand, in a borrowed grey tunic that came to my knees, with the ledger in my arms.

Every time he breathed, I felt it.

Osric MacIlroy walked the length of the hall.

His hair was oiled, his moustache was clipped, and the gold signet ring flashed on the hand he lifted in greeting.

Lorna came a step behind him, in a pressed grey dress with her silver plait over one shoulder and her herb basket on her arm.

Her eyes found mine, and they were already wet.

"Alpha Reave," Osric said warmly. "Thank you for hearing us. I'll be brief."

"Please," said Torin.

"Last night, a young woman of my pack ran away in the dark. A troubled girl. She took something that belongs to Mirefold, and then, I'm told, she stood at your gate and claimed your protection."

He turned his smile on me.

"Rhona, my dear. Come home."

My knees went weak.

I had been smiled at like that every day for fifteen years.

"She stays where she is," Torin said.

"Of course. But let's be reasonable." Osric spread his hands. "Rhona Tarn is Mirefold's ward. She was taken in as an orphan, raised in my own house, and given work out of charity. She has no wolf. She can't consent to a mark any more than a child can."

A murmur went through the Hawkscar side.

"She claimed it herself," Torin said. "In front of my gate."

"A confused girl, in a panic, who has been unwell for years. Ask my Luna."

Lorna stepped forward and put a hand to her chest.

"She's been very sick," she said softly. "Weak blood. I've nursed her since she was a child. Without her tonic, she shakes. She forgets herself." A tear slid down her cheek. "I only want her safe."

I wanted to scream.

The woman had held my head over a basin every winter of my life.

An old Hawkscar elder with a white beard cleared his throat.

"Alpha," he said to Torin, "if the girl is a ward, and if she's unwell, there's a case. We don't want war over a bookkeeper."

"She isn't a bookkeeper," Torvi said. "She's a claimed woman."

"A claim made by a wolfless girl against the will of her own Alpha."

"She has a name," I said.

Every head turned.

My voice shook, and I hated it.

I made myself take a step forward, and the bond pulsed warm against my ribs.

"My name is Rhona Tarn, and I'm the keeper of the widow and orphan fund of Mirefold," I said. "I came here because the fund is empty."

Osric's smile did not move.

"I've brought the book," I said. "If the council will let me, I'll read three lines."

The elder looked at Torin.

Torin gave a small nod.

I opened the ledger on the nearest table so the whole hall could see it, and my hands, thank all the moons, stayed steady.

"Page forty. A widow, paid eleven marks at the quarter. She has been dead two winters." I turned a page. "Page forty-one. A drover, eleven marks, signed for in summer. He was buried in spring. Page forty-four. Two orphan boys, nine marks each. Their aunt sold the roof tiles to feed them."

I looked up.

"There are four hundred more."

Nobody spoke.

An old woman near the back crossed her arms over her chest, and I knew her, because she was one of mine.

"Forged," said Osric.

He did not raise his voice.

"A girl who was dismissed from her post for carelessness, who stole my property and ran off in the night, brings a book she wrote herself and expects you to believe it." He sighed. "Alpha Reave, I'm sorry. I should have kept a closer eye on her."

"It's in my handwriting," I said. "That's the point."

"Exactly. She wrote it."

He turned to the hall.

"Hawkscar must decide," he said. "Return my ward, or answer the challenge of Mirefold. By the old law I can call Alpha to Alpha over a claimed woman. I would rather not."

"Neither would I," said Torin.

His voice was flat, but under it the bond hummed.

"The council will hear the book," he said. "You'll have your answer in three days. Until then you are my guests at the ford, and your wolves stay on your side of it."

Osric bowed.

It was a graceful bow, and it did not reach his eyes.

Lorna came forward, almost shyly, with a small tin flask held out in both hands.

"Rhona, darling," she said. "You forgot your tonic."

The whole hall watched her put it into my hand.

The smell rose up from the cap, bitter and green, and my body knew it before I did.

My mouth went wet.

I had drunk it every day for fifteen years.

I raised it halfway to my lips, because that was what I always did.

A big hand closed over mine and lowered it.

Torin had come around the table without my noticing.

He took the flask out of my fingers and sniffed it, once, and his face changed.

"What's in this?" he asked Lorna.

"Herbs. For her blood."

He held the cap under his nose a second longer.

Then he looked at Lorna, and the pale green eyes were not cold anymore.

They were bright and hard as a knife.

"It smells like a lie," he said.

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