I stood vigil at the gates through the long cold hours. When dawn light finally crept across the snow, Alaric Ravenhart emerged in Uncle Fenris's personal transport—the sleek, rune-marked carriage that had always carried my uncle to council meetings.
I stepped directly into his path.
"Alaric Ravenhart. I can prove you are not the lawful successor. Come with me to see Elder Eamon—now."
Alaric regarded me with an expression caught somewhere between amusement and something else I couldn't name. To my surprise, he nodded without argument.
"Very well. I'm curious to see what proof you think you have."
We traveled to Elder Eamon's den. The moment we arrived, I couldn't contain myself.
"Elder Eamon, do you know that Uncle Fenris left his entire territory to this wolf?" I pointed at Alaric, my voice rising. "The blood-oath recording doesn't show you present. Tell me the truth—it's forged, isn't it? He coerced Uncle Fenris into this. That has to be what happened!"
Elder Eamon stared at me with undisguised bewilderment.