Chapter 31 · Bloodmoon Well

Silas wasn't breathing right.

I pressed two fingers to his throat. His pulse jumped and skipped like a trapped bird. Blood still leaked from his nose, his ears. The council chamber had emptied the second Morgana vanished—wolves didn't stick around when vampire envoys started making prophecies.

"Help me move him." I looked up.

No one left. Just me and Silas on the stone floor, and the silver knife I still hadn't dropped.

I shoved it in my belt. Hooked my arms under Silas's shoulders and dragged him toward the side hall. He was dead weight. Two hundred pounds of muscle and broken bond magic. My vampire half gave me the strength but my hands were shaking anyway.

Midnight. Bloodmoon Well. New King.

I knew the place. Every wolf in the northern territories knew it. The old coronation site, back before packs had council chambers and voted on policy. You went to the well, you bled into the water, the crown recognized you or it killed you.

No one had used it in eighty years.

I got Silas into the hall and propped him against the wall. His eyes cracked open. Glassy. Unfocused.

"Lyra."

"Don't talk." I checked his pulse again.