“I’m going to put some cuffs on you,” she warns me and snaps them on before I can protest. “Follow me.”
After many irritating questions from some witch who stinks of ozone, they rule that I’m fit to testify. My hands remain bound, and they insist on strapping an enormous muzzle to my head before they march me to the courtroom where I join my family. They remove the muzzle before the trial begins.
The sight of Soren sitting beside the judges makes anger burn in my belly. There is nothing the Council can say or do that will make me forgive him for his betrayal of my family. Nothing.
Unless… is there? Would my brother still harbor such devotion for Soren if hehadtruly turned against us?
When one of the witches touches Soren’s head, a familiar scene plays out right in the middle of the courtroom. Men and women, pale and see-through, confront Soren about his crimes. Just as I remembered, the bastard confesses to everything. These memories they’re showing us are no different, so why bother at all?
A vicious rush of satisfaction sweeps through my stomach.
Then Councilwoman Harding tells us all that someone had tampered with Soren’s memories, that there is more we have not seen. Lyall growls furiously.
To my astonishment, a whole new memory flickers into view. Soren is chained to a wall, head hanging, covered in blood and filth. This must be after we’d chained him up in the cellar following his betrayal. Wulfric had needed time to decide his fate. My brother’s past self appears from nowhere.
“I will speak to him, make him see reason!” Lyall, hands in fists and jaw tense, says of our brother’s choice to lock Soren away.
“It’s too late, Lyall.” Soren drops his chin to his chest.
“Why would you say that?”
A broken laugh escapes Soren. “I already confessed.”
“Towhat?”
Soren averts his gaze, lips trembling. “To betraying the pack.”
Lyall stumbles back, shaking his head. “What… why would you…”
A good question, one that makes me hold my breath.
“While you were recovering from the battle, mistrust spread through the village. The townsfolk thought I had turned you against your own family, that you were somehow in on my father’s plan to attack the village and kill Erik. I couldn’t let them think so poorly of you. So, I… confessed. Told them I alone knew my father’s plan. That I used you all for protection until the day I could be rescued.” Tears well in Soren’s eyes.
Lyall leans on the wall for support, then slashes at it with his claws. “Then I will tell them it’s not true, any of it! I will make Wulfric listen to reason. I—”
“No!” Soren’s broken shout fills the room. “I will not be the reason you lose your family, Lyall. I can’t!”
“Youaremy family!” The devastation in Lyall’s voice could topple mountains. “And I have already lost so much. I will not lose you, too!”
“So… if you had to choose… myself or your family… you would choose me?”
But my brother says nothing.
If I were in his shoes, I would have chosen Leif and Bjorn, but it would have destroyed me to leave my pack behind.
Just as losing Soren destroyed Lyall. For years, he’s suffered the loss of his mate, but he never left. He stood by us. Hechoseus.
My eyes sting. I want to fall to my knees in the middle of this court and scream aloud the guilt and despair tearing me apart.
I was so lost in my own grief, so desperate for someone to blame, that I never understood just how much my brother sacrificed for us.
In the memory, Soren smiles despite the tears in his eyes, and gods, the love he feels for my brother could not be any clearer. He sacrificed his life, his livelihood, his connection to our pack—all for my brother.
And we let him. We turned against him, this man who had been part of our family since boyhood. Cast him aside as if all those years of brotherhood meant not a damn thing.
Oh gods.
I have been such a bloody fool.
