Chapter 20: The Pack Divides

Mira's POV

By noon the whole lower lawn had become a border.

Students stood on both sides of it with their arms crossed.

On the left were the wolves who followed Sabrina, forty of them, grim and silent in their warden jackets.

On the right stood Bram's five wardens and a few fae.

A handful of shadow-walkers waited in the shade of the oak, with Posy at the front.

Nobody had told them to choose.

Nobody had told them not to.

I came down the hill with Ilyan, and the left side of the lawn growled.

"Stay behind me," said Ilyan.

"I can handle my own."

"I know you can. I'd just like them to see me do the talking."

At the center of the lawn Sabrina waited.

She wore a high-necked sweater to hide the doctor's bandage, and her voice, when she spoke, was a dry rasp.

It carried anyway, because every wolf on the grass was straining to hear it.

"The Alpha's son has been taken in," she said. "I'm not angry at Bram. I'm afraid for him."

"Sabrina," I said.

"She lit the cliffs. She poisoned my own throat with a trick of fae glamour, and the Alpha was too kind to say so."

She turned to the crowd.

"She has marks on her skin that only one kind of creature carries. A dragon doesn't need to earn love. She only needs to stand near."

Her rasp climbed.

"How else does a stranger turn the heir of the Thackwrays against his own pack in a month?"

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