Chapter3

"According to ancient law, one who stands on the Judgment Stone has one chance to exercise the 'Right of Final Reversal.'"

Cyrus recited slowly, like reading scripture no one believed anymore. "You may designate any pack member present to take your place in accepting allocation. The rule takes mandatory effect, but you must bear the Moon Goddess's judgment and unknown backlash."

He paused, grey eyes sweeping over me.

"The Right of Reversal can only be used once. Are you certain you want to hear the detailed rules?"

Laughter erupted from below the platform.

Orion laughed loudest. "Her? An Omega? Reversal?" He elbowed the Gamma warrior next to him. "Who could she possibly choose? Me? I'd be happy to teach her some rules."

The laughter spread like plague. People in the Beta ranks shook their heads. The Gammas wore contemptuous expressions. I even heard soft sighs from the Omega formation behind me, voices saying: Don't be foolish, accept your fate.

I knew what they were laughing at.

In the Greystone Pack's three-hundred-year history, only seven people had used the Right of Reversal. One person chose their enemy—both ended up exiled together, dying at the border. The rest mostly chose equals, seeking a sliver of hope, but most met tragic ends.

The Right of Reversal was called "a madman's last struggle." Use it, and you usually died worse. Don't use it, and you could at least scrape by at the border.

No one believed I would use it.

Even fewer believed I could succeed.

But standing on the stone, I suddenly felt something.

My blood was gently boiling.

Something in my veins was moving, warm and slow, like a hibernating snake being roused. It crawled up my arm, climbed to my shoulder, burrowed into where my heart was.

Then I saw it.

A thread.

Faint, silver, like silk spun from moonlight, extending from my chest.

Crossing the square, skimming over the jeering crowd, climbing the platform, finally wrapping around one person's heart.

Kael.

He was still talking to Corbin, face turned aside, brow slightly furrowed.

That thread was tied to his chest, rising and falling gently with his breathing.

My blood was in his body.

Moonshade, my blood, that rainy night three years ago.

That wasn't ordinary healing.

That was a blood pact, the most ancient kind.

An invisible bond formed between savior and saved.

I'd only vaguely sensed it before. Now, with the full moon descending, with me standing on the Judgment Stone at this moment, I saw it clearly.

He owed me a life.

And he was sending me to die.

Orion was still laughing.

"Choose then! Ellara! We're all waiting! Choose a Beta? Choose another Omega? Who else could you possibly—"

"Quiet."

Cyrus's voice wasn't loud, but it cut through all the noise.

"Ellara. You have one minute to decide whether to exercise this right. If you decline, the ceremony ends and you depart immediately for the Shattered Bone Wasteland."

Shattered Bone Wasteland.

Eastern Outpost.

Die there, body dried by wind into part of the sand, even my bones ground to dust by the sharp stones. No one would remember me.

Kael would continue as Alpha, marry a noble-blooded Omega, father a litter of strong offspring.

He'd completely forget that rainy night, forget that bowl mixed with blood and herbs, forget that a pair of hands had cradled his head, begging him to drink.

I looked down at my palms.

That scar glowed pale silver in the moonlight. Very faint, but always there.

My blood was in his body.

I'd given him half my life.

Now he wanted to take all that remained.

The square had gone quiet. Everyone was watching me. Orion stood with arms crossed, mocking smile on his face.

Corbin was recording something on the platform. Other commanders whispered to each other.

Kael finally turned around.

He faced the square, his gaze sweeping over. He was looking at me.

Across thirty paces, across the jeering crowd, across that silver thread only I could see.

His eyes were cold.

Like looking at a stone.

Like looking at a speck of dust.

Like looking at a problem that should have been dealt with long ago.

The thread tied to my chest suddenly went taut.

It pulled, as if a hand on the other end had yanked hard. Pain exploded from my heart—the pain of betrayal, of being forgotten, of being discarded like garbage.

I took a deep breath.

I knew the full weight of the rules.

I knew what the backlash might be—death, perhaps, or something worse than death.

I knew that after making this choice, I might not even see the next moonrise.

But I also knew that if I just walked away to the Shattered Bone Wasteland, living would be no different from dying.

Better to die on my feet than live on my knees.

Sever this thread.

Or use it to strangle the betrayer.

I lifted my head, looking at Cyrus.

"I exercise the right."

A collective gasp rippled through the square.

Orion's smile froze on his face.

On the platform, Corbin's pen stopped.

Kael's brow furrowed.

Cyrus looked at me for a long time, then nodded. "Designate the person to replace you. Only one. Now."

Every eye pinned itself on me.

I turned, facing the platform.

My gaze crossed the crowd, crossed those shocked faces, crossed thirty paces.

I looked at Kael.

He was looking at me too. For the first time, his silver-grey eyes held a different emotion—confusion, then faint wariness.

I raised my hand.

Then I spoke.