The Alpha's Rejected Heir

The Alpha rejected me in front of four hundred wolves while I was carrying his child. I had known for thirteen days. I came to the ceremony with the words ready behind my teeth, a carved wolf in my pocket, and a plan to tell him after the oath. Then Elara walked onto the dais in a white fur cloak, and Merek opened the Luna ledger, and the words stayed where they were. The great hall smelled of tallow and wet wool. Frost had grown across the windows in white ferns, and the fires did not reach the center of the room. Four hundred wolves stood in their winter coats, and every one of them was looking at me. Roman sat in the Alpha's chair with his hands on the arms. Elara stood at his right in the white cloak, and the Luna silver was already at her throat. Merek stood at his left with the ledger open in both hands. "Rhea of the lower village," Roman said. "You are not my mate." The hall went quiet. The bond tightened, hard enough to lift me onto my toes, and then something inside my chest tore. The silver mark on my wrist turned cold as river stone. The pain came up my arm, and I put my hand on a chair to keep my feet. "The healer's ledger says you cannot give the pack an heir," Roman said. "Blackmoor has not had a child in twenty years, and I need a Luna who can." His hand tightened on the arm of the chair. His wolf looked out of his eyes, gold swallowing grey, then looked away. Two years ago he had kissed me in the herb room and said I smelled like rain. Then Merek told him I was barren, and he stopped coming, and the pack began to talk about a northern bride. "I am sorry," Elara said. "The pack needs a Luna who can give it children, and you understand why." "Your father holds the north pass and forty riders," I said. "That is what the pack needs." Elara smiled. "Your father held no land and no riders. What did you think would happen?" "I thought the Moon did not lie. I was wrong about two things." The hall stirred. Someone laughed at the back, and someone else told them to be quiet. A woman in the front row said I was always too thin. The words went through me like a stone through water. "The ledger is clear," Merek said. He was a small man with soft hands and a careful voice, and he had been healer for thirty years. "The Moon does not lie." He held the book open so the pack could see the page. My name was at the top in his neat black hand, and under it the word that had ended my life: barren. "Read the date," I said, and Merek looked up. "The page is clear." "Read the date aloud," I said. "You wrote it in front of the whole pack. Read it." The hall waited. Merek's hands stayed on the book. Roman turned his head, looked at the page, and then at me. "Read it," Roman said. Merek read the date, and it was the day Roman stopped coming to the herb room. "I was in the lower village that day," I said. "At the market, with the herb woman and thirty other people. Ask them. Ask her." The pack murmured. A man near the door said he had seen me at the market, and the woman beside him said she had bought feverfew from me that morning. Merek closed the ledger, and the sound of it was soft and final. "The date is the date," he said. "A record does not change because a girl remembers a market." "Then why did you write the verdict before you touched my belly?" I said. "You came to the stillroom a week later. You locked the door. You told me the Moon had spoken, and you had not even put your hand on me." A murmur ran down the hall and died. Roman's jaw moved, and his wolf came up behind his eyes and stayed there. "Did you ask him why?" I said. "Two years, Roman. Did you ask him once?" He stayed silent, and that was the first time I saw him hesitate, and it told me more than any oath. "The pack needs the north pass," he said at last. "You will leave Blackmoor before dawn." The words landed in the hall like a dropped plate. Elara's smile came back, and Merek opened the ledger again, and I understood that the truth had made no difference to the men who needed the pass. I walked to the table, where the loose page lay beside the book, whiter than the rest. The ink was still raised at the edges, and I picked it up. "Put that down," Merek said. "No." "That page belongs to the pack." "Then try me for it." I folded it once and pushed it into my sleeve. "You have four hundred witnesses. Use them." The hall held still. Roman watched me with something raw in his face, and his hand lay flat on the arm of the chair, holding himself there. "The gates close at midnight," he said. "The page will not leave the valley, and you will not come back." "I know." He came down from the dais. The pack parted for him, and he stopped in front of me, close enough that I could smell the pine smoke in his coat. He took my wrist and turned it over. The silver mark lay against my skin, pale as frost. "You will not speak of the bond again," he said. The mark stayed pale against my skin, and then it went cold, like a coin left out in the snow, and I understood that the Moon had heard him. His thumb stayed on my wrist one breath longer than it should have. "You rejected me," I said. "You do not get to hold on." He let go. His hand opened slowly, as if it cost him something. I walked toward the doors, and the pack parted for me, and the guard opened one, and the cold came in like a blade. I went to the room behind the kitchens and put my few things in a cloth: a comb, a knife, the carved wolf, and the herbs I used for fever. I left the dress on the bed. The gate guard was old. He looked at my bundle and did not ask. "The road is bad tonight," he said. "Keep to the pines." "If the bell rings for me," I said, "do not open it again." He looked at me for a long moment. Then he opened the postern and stepped aside. I walked out onto the north road. The pines stood black against the snow, and behind me Blackmoor keep burned against the sky. I put my hand on my belly. There was nothing to feel yet, not really, but I felt it anyway. Then the bell began to ring, one stroke, then two, the alarm bell they rang for fire or war, and behind it a man's voice shouting my name. Hooves came out of the gate. I ran.