Chapter 39 — I'm Not You
The brander brought the iron up the dais steps in a bed of coals, and four hundred wolves leaned in to watch their queen take it.
Sierra came down from the high seat.
She crossed the boards slowly — past the elders' bench, past Orin, past the post they had already set upright because two hundred years of custom said to — and she stopped in front of the fire and looked into it.
The iron sat in the coals glowing the color of a blood moon. A broken circle. The traitor's mark. She had watched this exact shape come out of this exact fire, once, with her arms tied behind her and her knees locked so she wouldn't fall.
"Majesty," the brander said. "It's ready."
Sierra picked up the leather glove.
The crowd made a sound like a held breath — and somewhere in it, a wom
