Chapter 9

Delphine moved first.

I don’t think she meant to. I think something in her simply snapped, eight years of a ward who never spoke suddenly standing in her husband’s study saying you watched me write it out in my own hand—and she was across the desk with her nails out before anyone could blink. Gareth caught her round the waist. Rhys was between us before her feet touched the rug again. I hadn’t seen him move.

Caspian didn’t move at all. He didn’t even look at her. He was looking at me.

“Elowen. Before your elders, and before the Crown: is it your will to be released from the Ashgrove Pack?”

“Yes.”

“Then the Crown has heard you.” He turned his head. “Elder Hester.”

Hester’s mouth was a thin line. But she knew the law better than anyone in that room; she had probably been alive when it was sworn. She looked at Edmund, and at Old Marrow, and one after another they nodded, like old trees in a wind.

“Ashgrove releases her,” Hester said. “An