Ronan’s POV
Article nine gets stamped at eight in the morning by a clerk who can’t look at me while he does it.
“You understand this is entered in the public record, Alpha.”
“I do.”
“And that a claim of this nature cannot be withdrawn by the claimant, only dissolved by the claimed party before a full council.”
“I know what I’m signing.”
Rhys, behind me, says nothing at all, which is the loudest he’s been in fifteen years.
We cross the water at noon with eleven men, which is either an escort or an army depending entirely on how the day goes. The far bank is quiet. There’s a boat tied off badly, a house with no smoke, and a woman sitting on a stump in front of it with a pipe she isn’t smoking.
“You’re the Alpha,” she says.
“I am.”
“You’re late.”
“You’re the binder.”
“I am.” She s
