2. A Thief Before the Vows

The blood dried on the parchment, and my mother's name disappeared.

"Wait." I caught the priestess's wrist before she could roll the declaration shut. "There was something beneath my signature."

She looked frightened rather than curious. "The ritual is complete."

"Let me see it again."

Elder Corvin struck the floor with his staff. The silver chimes above the altar trembled. "The Alpha has made his decision. This congregation will not entertain a rejected woman's tricks."

That was when the doors opened.

Six palace guards entered in formation. They were not ceremonial guards; their breastplates were scratched from patrol, and each carried an iron restraint chain wrapped in white cloth. Behind them came Magistrate Voss, holding a rolled warrant with the red seal of the Silvermoon council.

Damian didn't look surprised.

A small silence settled around the guards' boots. The priestess took a step away from the altar, as though she wanted to be certain no one mistook her for the person who had summoned them. I counted the men automatically. Six arrests required six signatures under Silvermoon procedure; every one of those signatures could eventually be traced to a person. I clung to that thought because the alternative was to look at Livia's face and ask myself how long she had been rehearsing her sorrow in a mirror.

"Elena Vale," the magistrate announced, "you are to be detained for theft of the Silvermoon Heartstone and deliberate contamination of the Moonwell."

For a moment nobody moved. The charges sounded so ridiculous that I expected one of the guests to laugh.

The Heartstone was kept behind three locks in a chamber that only the Alpha and his appointed keeper could open. The Moonwell supplied half our valley with clean water. Poisoning it was treason.

"The Heartstone was inspected two evenings ago," I said. "I have the signed inventory."

"That inspection was conducted under your supervision," Voss replied.

"And under the keeper's. Why isn't he here?"

"You may ask your questions during the hearing."

He said hearing, but the guards stepped toward me with their chains already unfastened.

I turned to Damian. "You know I didn't do this."

His gaze shifted from my injured hand to the council seal. "The evidence is serious."

"What evidence?"

Livia's face held the delicate misery of someone watching an unfortunate accident. "I saw you near the Moonwell last night. You told me you couldn't sleep."

"Because you came to my room crying about a quarrel with your father. You asked me to bring you water."

The words tasted bitter even as I said them. She had sent me exactly where she needed a witness to place me.

Voss unrolled his warrant. "A vial of bitterroot concentrate was found in the linen cabinet attached to your chambers."

Bitterroot was harmless when diluted properly; our healers used it for fever. Concentrated, it could make the Moonwell's silver test run black.

"Who found it?" I asked.

"The deputy steward."

"At what hour?"

"Midnight."

"Who authorized a search of my private rooms at midnight, before any accusation had been made?"

Voss went still. I knew that look. It was the look of a man who had not expected the accused to know procedure.

"Your questions are being recorded as obstruction."

I faced the guests. "Everyone here heard that. A warrant executed before a reported crime is not evidence of my guilt."

Some turned away. Others looked at Damian, waiting for him to decide what they believed.

His silence told me everything.

The guards seized my arms. An iron cuff closed around my wrist, biting into the fresh wound in my palm. My wolf, a quiet presence beneath my ribs, surged against the restraint. I forced her down. A fight in the temple would give them the spectacle they wanted.

As they led me past the altar, I saw the rejection declaration lying beside the priestess. Silver filaments shimmered along its edge.

I reached for it with my free hand.

The whisper came again.

Prepared before the accusation. Prepared before the rejection.

There was more, just beyond hearing, like voices through a wall.

The priestess snatched the document away. "Don't touch sacred records."

"Then preserve them," I said. "Both the rejection and the warrant. Seal them separately in front of witnesses."

Voss gave an ugly smile. "You will not instruct this court."

"You called me a thief in front of five hundred people. You can manage to keep two pieces of paper."

He ordered the guards to move.

Outside the temple, the air smelled of rain and horse sweat. The bells were still ringing for a wedding that would never take place.

A young guard named Tomas, who had once carried bags of grain for me during the famine, avoided my eyes as he fastened the carriage door.

"Tomas," I said quietly. "Please tell Nora I'm being taken to the council hall."

He swallowed. Nora was a healer, and one of the few people I trusted beyond the temple. He didn't promise anything, but his hand paused on the lock.

Inside the carriage, I found a smear of silver dust on my cuff. I didn't remember touching the seal.

I rubbed the dust between my fingers and felt that strange cold again.

Someone had prepared every stage of my downfall in advance. And someone had used my mother's name to do it.