CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE NO MAN’S PROPERTY #2
For years she had imagined someone powerful ending him. A court, perhaps. Some village authority finally seeing what he was. Later, Euan. There had been nights after Duncan’s threats when she had pictured Euan’s hands around his throat and hated herself for the relief the thought brought.
But if Euan killed him now, Duncan would become a dead man between them.
If Marion killed him in rage, Duncan would become the monster he had accused her of being.
No.
He deserved something smaller.
He deserved to live long enough to be seen clearly.
She bent and picked up the torn guardianship pieces from the snow. Most were damp now. One still bore his seal. She held them up, then reached for the papers Tavish had taken from Duncan’s coat earlier, the notes showing roads, Grove paths, Crown marks, Aldrich’s hand beside Duncan’s.
Tavish passed them to her without needing to be asked.
Marion looked around the Grove.
“This man gave Crown forces our roads,” she said.
Our.
The word came easier this time.
“He tried to seize my daughter under forged guardianship. He brought witchcraft accusations against me to hide his greed. He allied with Aldrich believing monsters would die and I would return to his control.”
Duncan snarled, “Lies.”
Marion looked to Aldrich. “Did he?”
Aldrich looked vaguely annoyed at being included in something so petty. “Yes.”
Duncan stared at him.
The confirmation was so casual it was almost cruel.
Perhaps that was why Marion enjoyed it.
A murmur of disgust moved through the wolves.
Rhona stepped forward. “And among human witnesses?”
Marion looked toward the Crown soldiers still standing at the Grove’s edge. Some had lowered their weapons. Others looked uncertain, watching Aldrich, watching the wolves, watching the woman who had turned poison clear in midair.
One soldier, older than the others, took a cautious step forward. His mask hung loose at his throat. There was ash in his beard.
“I saw the sheriff hand Master Aldrich the lower road map,” he said.
Duncan whipped his head toward him. “Traitor.”
The soldier’s mouth twisted. “No. I think that title is occupied.”
A faint ripple moved through the Grove.
Duncan’s face went slack with disbelief.
Marion stepped off his wrist.
He did not rise.
“Bind him,” she said.
Two wolves moved.
Duncan erupted.
Not toward Marion this time.
Toward the broken spearhead lying half buried in the snow.
He grabbed it and rolled, coming up with a wild cry. His eyes were fixed on Euan again, because in the end he still preferred blaming the man Marion chose over the woman who refused him.
Euan lifted his blade.
Marion’s hand shot out. “No!”
Too late for Duncan.
Not for Euan.
The sheriff charged blindly, spearhead raised. His boot struck one of Aldrich’s fallen vials, hidden under churned snow and cracked glass. It shattered beneath him.
White flame burst upward.
Duncan screamed.
He stumbled, arms windmilling, and fell directly onto the spearhead he had raised.
The silver point drove beneath his ribs.
For one breath, he stared at Marion.
Not angry now.
Confused.
As if some part of him had truly believed the world would keep bending around his wants forever.
Blood bubbled at his mouth.
“Marion,” he whispered.
She stood very still.
There had been a time her healer’s hands would have moved before thought. Pain was pain. A body was a body. A wound called to her.
Now the call came.
She heard it.
She did not answer.
Not because she was cruel.
Because mercy was not obedience.
Duncan sank backward into the snow, one hand clutching the silver point in his own flesh. The white alchemical fire guttered around him, then died. His eyes fixed on the gray sky above the Grove.
He did not move again.
Georgie made a small sound.
Marion turned immediately.
The child was staring, pale and wide eyed. Marion crossed the distance between them on shaking legs and dropped to her knees in front of her.
Georgie looked from Duncan’s body to her mother. “Did you kill him?”
The question hurt.
Good. It should.
“No,” Marion said softly. “He did that trying to hurt someone else.”
Georgie swallowed. “Are you sad?”
Marion did not answer too quickly. Children knew lies. Georgie especially.
“I am sad,” she said at last, “that he chose this. I am not sorry he cannot hurt you again.”
Georgie thought about that, then threw herself into Marion’s arms.
Marion held her close, one hand cupping the back of her head. The child shook against her. Marion shook too. For a moment she let herself be only mother.
Only that.
Then Euan’s hand touched her shoulder.
Warm. Alive. Careful.
She looked up at him.
His face was still hard, but not with jealousy, not with vengeance. There was sorrow there. Not for Duncan. For what Duncan had cost her.
“He had no claim on you,” Euan said.
Marion breathed out.
A small, broken breath she had been holding for years.
“No,” she said. “He did not.”
Across the Grove, Aldrich moved.
It was slight.
Too slight for human eyes perhaps, but not for wolves. He stepped backward toward the eastern trees, one gloved hand slipping inside his coat. Soldiers moved with him, uncertain but trained. One reached for a leather satchel strapped near the ruined canister.
Morna saw it. “He has his notes.”
Aldrich’s face hardened.
Euan turned.
Marion rose slowly, Georgie tucked behind her.
The wolves around the Grove lifted their heads.
Aldrich took another step back.
Then a howl rose from the eastern trees.
Low.
Then another answered from the west.
Then another.
Silver gray wolves emerged from the smoke, one by one, blocking every path out of the Sacred Grove.
Aldrich stopped.
Marion wiped Duncan’s blood from her hand onto her torn shift and looked at the alchemist across the poisoned snow.
“Oh good,” she said softly. “Now we are finished with interruptions.”