Chapter 3

Briony's POV

"Failing to bring back the real veilbloom is bad enough. But bullying her in front of the whole pack?" Elspeth stared down at me. "Apologize. Now."

I spat out a mouthful of bloody froth and laughed quietly.

Their own flesh and blood lay broken and bleeding, and they just twisted the knife. The girl who stole my life sheds a single tear, and they'd rather see me dead.

"Apologize? She should be thanking me. She loves nothing more than seeing me dragged through the dirt." I gestured to my battered self. "Look at me. What better gift could I possibly give her?"

Sylvia curled in on herself, tears spilling. "That's not true... Briony, how can you think that about me?"

I didn't have the patience for her act.

"She took my place as Seer. Hollow Pass crushed what was left of my power." I braced a hand on the memorial stone and pushed myself up, inch by inch. "So what exactly are you afraid I'll do to her? Or is it that you're afraid I'll tell the whole pack the truth? That she's the fraud. That the Hearth Pack's real Seer is me—Briony Corin."

The color left Elspeth's face. "You... you remember?"

Sylvia threw herself into Elspeth's arms, shaking. "Mom, don't blame her. It's all my fault. Blame me."

Something like guilt crossed Elspeth's face. Sylvia's sobbing washed it away in seconds.

"Whatever happened, you hurt Sylvia. That's a fact." She held Sylvia tighter. "As far as I'm concerned, you owe her your life."

She and Kendrick closed ranks around Sylvia, as if shielding her from a rabid wolf that might lunge at any second.

But Sylvia broke away from them and grabbed my sleeve, crying like her heart was being torn out. "I'll pay for it with my life, Briony! I wish I'd just died that night. Then none of this would ever have happened..."

The moment the words left her mouth, every ounce of hostility in the clearing turned on me.

And I hadn't done a thing.

Kendrick's eyes bled Alpha red. Command thickened his voice. "Briony! Have you no shame? Get on your knees—"

"Enough."

He hadn't raised his voice. The whole clearing went quiet anyway.

It was Tavish Grayve. The pack's spiritual elder stepped slowly from the bonfires, leaning heavily on a rowan-wood staff. His eyes had long since clouded over, but his gaze still felt like it pierced straight to the bone. Pack members whispered he was a Seer, a title he firmly denied. He carried only a sliver of Seer blood—just enough to hear the spirits whisper, but never enough to see them. Yet for eighteen years, this half-blind old man had faithfully upheld the sacred rites for an empty seat.

"The moon's almost on the stones. The Veils won't wait." Tavish turned to Kendrick. "I gave you tonight's omen at dusk, Alpha. Borrowed fire won't warm the hand that borrowed it. I still advise you to postpone."

"You can't even tell me who it's about," Kendrick said coldly. "You deliver messages, Tavish. The Alpha makes the calls. The rite goes ahead."

Tavish didn't argue. "Your decision."

His clouded eyes passed over me, then settled on Sylvia.

"The Veils will sort the true from the false. It's time. Candidate, take your place in the circle."