Page 73 of The Ashpaw: Part One

She already knew nothing would.

“And I thought the clan would be better off without me,” she added.

Reinn nodded knowingly, and then said, “You mean you thought you would be better off without the clan.”

Her mouth dropped open while the other alphas bristled.

“We take very good care of our Solvekh,” Norden said, attempting to affect a calm edge on his voice. But the tight set to his jaw belied his annoyance. “You can ask any of them. This one is… a special case.”

“I can see that.” Reinn leaned forward, sniffing the air. “She smells divine.”

Fern shifted on her feet, and the other alphas grumbled their agreement. Then they looked at him again, waiting for him to further his line of questioning or to explain it.

Darion cleared his throat.

But Reinn simply shrugged, looking down to pick at his nails. “That’s all I wanted to know, don’t mind me. I’m just an observer this evening. Please continue.”

Fern could see how it irked Darion for Reinn to give him direction in his own home, and she doubted it would translate into anything positive for his decision.

He looked at her, his expression set once again in a glower.

“If you cannot appreciate what the clan gives, then you will no longer receive the protections and benefits it provides.”

She tried to keep her gaze downcast, schooling her face into remorse when instead she wanted to laugh. If this was what her life was like with the clan’s protections and benefits, then without them must be truly awful. Her eyes lifted slightly, darting between Eidan and Karn in the hope they might give some kind of visual clue as to the seriousness of her fate, but both offered only blank slates.

“You are hereby stripped of the right to rest within the castle walls.”

She took a deep, shaking breath. That… that didn’t sound so bad. There would be no maiming, at least.

“From tonight until the full moon, you are to sleep outside.”

That was a little less than a week now. As long as it didn’t rain, she could survive—

“On the roof.”

The world muffled around her, as though she had been plunged in water. She only vaguely heard confused questions, asking for clarification, while her own breathing and beating heart were nearly deafening inside her.

Her palms started to sweat, and her knees shook.

“Please,” she whispered, “not…”

“And if your wolf does not appear,” he continued. “We will need to find a more permanent solution for your constant disappointments.”

He enunciated each syllable with hard consonants and snapping teeth, and Fern shrank further into herself until she felt she might collapse.

Six nights… on the roof.

And if she failed…

Please, she begged her wolf.

But her wolf merely whined, tail between her legs.

* * *

Fern followed the guard up a narrow spiral stair tucked deep within one of the castle towers, one hand dragging along the stone wall to steady herself whenever the steps threatened to tilt beneath her feet. The higher they climbed, the colder the air became, carrying sharp gusts that slipped through narrow arrow slits and tugged at her hair and skirts.

The stair itself was too tight. More than once she stumbled and felt her stomach plummet, convinced for one sickening heartbeat she was about to pitch backward down the endless curve of stone.