Chapter 4

The flames surged toward my feet.

I was bound to a silver pillar with rough ropes, and the dry wood beneath me had been soaked in oil. Smoke clawed at my throat as fire swallowed the altar.

"Burn the witch!"

Seraphine stood below the steps, a handkerchief pressed over her nose. Her eyes gleamed with barely concealed delight.

"Burn her before she curses the entire pack!"

A furious howl ripped through the courtyard.

"Felicity!"

Kaelen was pinned to the ground by a dozen guards and elders. He fought like a trapped wolf, swinging his sword wildly until more men rushed in to hold him down.

"Let her go!" he roared. "I'll kill every last one of you!"

But no one listened.

The flames licked the hem of my dress.

Heat seared my skin. Smoke filled my lungs. I could barely breathe, let alone scream.

So this was how I was going to die.

All because a bunch of idiots couldn't tell the difference between Felicity and Fertility.

Then the sky went black.

The wind howled across the courtyard. Thick clouds swallowed the moon, and a deafening crack of thunder shook the ground beneath our feet.

A bolt of purple lightning tore through the sky.

It struck the altar.

"AAAH!"

The priest's scream barely escaped his throat before the lightning struck him.

He had been raising his ceremonial staff to complete the sacrifice. Now he collapsed beside the altar, and the staff flew from his hand.

The courtyard fell silent.

For one breathless moment, nobody moved.

Then the rain came.

It poured from the sky in sheets, dousing the flames so quickly that not a single ember remained.

Seraphine stumbled backward and landed in the mud, her fine dress soaked through.

"D-divine punishment…"

Nobody dared answer her.

The priest lay motionless beside the altar. The silver compass had fallen from his robes, its needle finally still.

I stared at it through the smoke.

So much for divine evidence.

Before the crowd could recover, frantic hoofbeats thundered through the packhouse gates.

"Urgent report!"

A messenger burst into the courtyard, drenched from head to toe. He dropped to one knee, gasping for breath.

"News from the northern territory! Rain has fallen across the drought-stricken lands! Three years of drought are over!"

Murmurs swept through the crowd.

The messenger raised his head, his voice growing louder.

"And the rebel packs have surrendered! They believe the Moon Goddess has blessed Blackmoor. They've laid down their weapons and sworn their loyalty!"

The courtyard erupted.

The drought was over?

The rebels had surrendered?

The same elders who'd demanded my sacrifice now stood speechless in the mud. A few looked as though their knees might give out.

Kaelen seized the moment.

With a roar, he threw off the guards and surged to his feet. The men who had pinned him down scattered as he charged toward the altar.

"Felicity!"

He was almost there.

I could see the fury on his face, the rain streaming through his dark hair, his hand reaching toward the ropes binding me to the pillar.

For the first time, I thought he might actually get to me before something else went wrong.

But before Kaelen could reach me, another commotion broke out.

The heavy doors to Evelyn's chambers flew open.

A woman stepped into the rain.

No healer supported her. No servant followed behind her.

It was Evelyn, the former Luna of Blackmoor. The same woman who'd been bedridden for ten years. The same woman the pack healers had declared unlikely to survive the night.

Yet she was standing on her own two feet.

Color had returned to her cheeks. Her breathing was steady, and her steps were stronger than anyone could have imagined.

In one trembling hand, she clutched a small flower covered in mud.

A moon-lily.

I recognized it immediately.

A few days earlier, I'd complained that the courtyard outside Evelyn's chambers looked too bare. I'd scattered a handful of seeds into the soil without giving them a second thought.

I'd never imagined anything would come of it.

Now Evelyn was here, alive and well, holding one of those flowers as though it were more precious than all the gold in Blackmoor's treasury.

She hurried toward the altar.

Then she saw me.

I was still bound to the silver pillar, my dress soaked through, my legs trembling beneath me. The last wisps of smoke curled around the charred wood at my feet.

Evelyn stopped dead.

Her eyes widened. For one terrible second, I thought she might collapse.

Instead, she raised the moon-lily and pointed at the guards.

"Release her at once!"

Her voice rang across the courtyard, sharp enough to silence every whisper.

Even Kaelen stopped struggling.

Evelyn took another step forward, her gaze sweeping over the elders, the guards, and the terrified Seraphine.

"Untie that girl," she commanded. "She's not a witch."

She tightened her grip on the little flower.

"She's Blackmoor's good-luck charm!"