Her Rebirth For Revenge

Selene's POV

The pack dungeon was cold and dark. Iron bars kept me from the world that I used to know with my husband, and the cold stone ground gnawed at my festival dress like winter teeth. I'd been here three hours now, but it had felt like three years.

Voices and shouts echoed overhead. The pack, their fury growing by the second, closed in. A chant had begun – "Justice for Marcus" – and soon the others followed, until the chant thundered through the caves like a war drum.

They wanted my blood. My own kind, who'd embraced me this morning, now demanded my death.

The creak of the dungeon door and the crash of stone stairs beneath heralded Elder Morrison's arrival. Wine-stained gray beard and cold anger-filled eyes spoke of one who had lost someone precious. Three other councilors followed him, their faces set in the flickering light of the torches.

"Selene." Morrison's tone was no longer courteous. No longer "Luna." No respect. "The council has questions."

I stood up from the mildewed straw where I'd sat, attempting to maintain some dignity that remained. "I'll do my best."

"Where did you find the nightshade?"

"From the herb men who come by every spring. I use it for medicine, sparingly. It relieves unendurable pain when nothing else will."

Elder Catherine stepped forward, her wrinkled face twisted in outrage. "How many other individuals knew about your caches of nightshade?"

"Just the pack healer. And Corwin, of course. Maybe a few others who've witnessed me preparing medicines."

"Like Beta Kane?"

I paused, weighing. "He may have seen me handling it a couple of times. But he's not interested in healing arts."

Morrison wrote words on parchment. "Explain your relationship with Prince Marcus."

"He was my brother-in-law. I loved him." My voice trembled even as I tried to be strong. "He treated me kindly when others doubted my right to be called Luna. He stood up for me."

"Perhaps so?" Elder Catherine's eyes flashed. "Perhaps you tired of being the second choice? The common-born Luna who needed to be safeguarded?"

"That is not true."

"Isn't it?" Morrison stepped closer. "We have records of fights between you and Marcus. Witnesses report you were angry with him last week."

My heart fell. "He was being irresponsible all over again. Drinking with other pack scouts in the neighborhood, getting drunk, sleeping till midnight. I was worried about him. I tried to make him think clearly."

"By threatening him?"

"I never threatened him!"

"Sarah overheard you tell him that you warned him that he'd 'regret his decisions one day.'"

Catherine's voice was as cold as shattered glass. "Those are your very words."

The memory struck me like a body blow. I had spoken the words, but not just as they were twisting them. Marcus had been drunk, babbling about infiltrating enemy lines to show his courage. I'd been afraid he'd get himself killed.

"I was keeping him out of stupidity," I panted. "I was fearing he'd be irresponsible."

"Or were you sick of his interference in pack business?" Morrison questioned. "Sick of him questioning your judgment? Making you appear weak?"

"Marcus never made me appear weak. He stood by my side."

"Did he?" Catherine drew out another sheet of parchment. "What about the trade agreement with the Silver Moon Pack? Marcus openly disagreed with you. Called it 'short-sighted' in front of the entire council."

I recalled that too. Marcus had urged us to be harder in our bargaining, and I'd insisted on a softer line. But it was just a difference of opinion.

"We sometimes disagreed. That happens. It isn't an indication that I wished him dead."

"Is it?" Morrison's gaze was cold. "A Luna who can't keep her own relatives in line is a Luna who looks weak. And weak leaders don't last long."

They continued to question, bending every recollection to some sinister end. Every quarrel was proof of some grudge. Every explosion of anger was proof of intent to kill. When they finished with me, I was adrift on my own testimony.

"The council will confer," Morrison stated, rising to leave. "But I imagine we all have an idea what the decision will be."

As I stepped out, I fell back onto the straw and buried my face in my palms. How had it gone so terribly wrong so fast? Today I had been a respected Luna, a loved and admired woman among my pack. This evening I was a killer.

The door creaked open once more, and in walked Kane. He balanced a tray of water and food in his hands and deposited them just outside my door as if I were some wild beast that would bite him.

"Figured you might be hungry," he muttered, his voice almost soft.

"I'm not."

"You should eat. You'll need your strength tomorrow."

Tomorrow. My trial. And what happened after. I shivered.

Kane regarded me over the bars, his blue eyes inscrutable. "I want you to know this pains me not, Selene. You were a good Luna. Mostly."

"You made mistakes?"

"Yes. The pack saw them, even if Corwin was so besotted by love he didn't notice them."

I gazed up at him, my confusion entwined with my despair. "What mistakes?"

"Little things at first. Favoring some families over others. Ruling without council approval. That business with the rogue wolves last month – you were near bringing on a war with your foolishness."

"I was defending our land."

"You were showing off. Attempting to prove that you were capable of being Luna when you were born of common stock." Kane shook his head sadly. "Pride, Selene. It's a killer thing."

His words stung because there was a little bit of truth to them. I'd been working harder in recent months to prove myself. The rumors about my bloodlines had grown louder the last few months, and I'd felt the need to prove I was capable.

"But Marcus?" Kane continued. "That was going too far. Even for you."

"I didn't kill him."

Kane remained silent for an extremely long time, just staring at me with those frigid blue eyes. When he finally spoke, he was soft. Almost too soft.

"Really believe that?"

The words slammed into me like a body punch. "What do you mean?"

"I've been reconsidering what I said. The blackouts. Stress making you do things you wouldn't do otherwise." He leaned in closer to the bars. "You've been under an awful lot of pressure yourself lately. The pack challenging your leadership, fights with neighboring territories, pressure to have an heir."

"I would remember killing someone."

"Would you? Memory is an odd thing, Selene. Our brains have a tendency to shield us from such bitter truths we cannot endure."

What he said seeded in my mind seeds of uncertainty. Had I indeed been behaving strangely? There were nights that I had not slept, walking up and down on our bedchamber floor while Corwin slept beside me. Sometimes when I woke up somewhere and could not recall how I had arrived.

"You're attempting to make me question myself."

"I'm trying to tell you what occurred. So that you can talk tomorrow with peace."

"By taking blame for something that isn't mine?"

Kane exhaled. "The facts are not lies, Selene. And I believe, in your heart, you know this."

He headed for the door, then stopped there. "For what it's worth, I'll intercede on your behalf tomorrow. Plead for mercy. A swift death rather than. the standard punishment for killing an heir."

The ancient punishment. I'd heard the stories, the blood and terror written on the old laws. Traitors weren't just killed – they were made examples of. Tortured. Hung on the streets to die. Left to die, inch by inch, so the entire pack could see and learn.

"Kane." My breath was barely audible. "If I actually did this. if somehow I killed Marcus and don't even know I did it. why would I do something like this?"

He glanced at me over his shoulder with something that could have been pity. "Because you're human, Selene. And humans do horrible things when they're desperate."

I remained in the darkness after he had gone, trying to sort it out. The evidence was too great. The witnesses were credible. Even my own memories seemed suspect now, full of gaps and doubt.

But somehow, it felt a little off. Something I couldn't quite place.

I recalled closing my eyes and trying to recreate the moment Marcus had fallen. His shock-white face. The pain-dulled expression in his eyes. The confusion that he'd looked at me with instead of accusation. If I'd poisoned him, wouldn't he've questioned it? Wouldn't he have accused me?

And the timing – why tonight to attack? The harvest festival was treated holy by our pack. To kill Marcus during the festivities would be the greatest sacrilege.

Unless that was precisely the idea. Unless someone wanted it to appear I'd lost my mind.

The idea flashed into my mind like a bolt of lightning, quick and brutal and shocking. What if I was innocent after all? What if someone had orchestrated it all, being clever enough to set me up so that even I would begin doubting my own sanity?

But who? Who despised me that much to ruin my life in such a total way?

I was still conjecturing on this when again the sound of footsteps on the stairs reverberated through the castle. The heavy boots. Several pairs. My heart racing as the voices rang off the stonework.

"Bring shackles. And the silver chains – we don't want her changing and breaking free."

"Is the pyre ready?"

"Kane told us to wait until the trial, but the pack's getting restless. They want justice now."

"They are summoning blood. Can't blame them. To kill the prince on harvest moon. abominable."

The voices closed in and I understood with increasing horror that they were not to take me in for trial. They were to carry me off to die.

The door closed with a bang, and six pack warriors entered, their faces set in determination. I knew them all – men I'd saved, children I'd blessed, loyalty I'd once demanded.

"No," I gasped, standing in the back of my cell. "Tomorrow's the trial."

Derek, the lead warrior, who'd been a member of my family for years, would not look at me. "Plans changed. Alpha's instructions."

"Corwin wouldn't-"

"Alpha Corwin declares justice delayed is justice denied. The pack must be appeased."

They opened my cell with silver keys that burned my skin where they touched. The handcuffs were cold and heavy, meant to dampen the strength of a werewolf. I was bound, helpless, subject to those who had vowed to guard me.

As they pulled me down the stairs, I saw a face I recognized in the gloom at the top of the steps. Kane stood there, his face serious but mundane.

He did not rescue me. He came to watch.

And then, in crystal clear sight that pierced all my confusion and uncertainty, I finally understood the truth.

It had all been planned by Kane. The proof, the witnesses, even my own skeptical thoughts – all in his design.

Why? What could my husband's closest friend have against me?

I parted my lips to shout out the accusation, to reveal him before they could make me shut up for good. But Kane pulled out his belt, and moonlight reflected off the gleam of a silver blade.

His smile was as chilly as winter as he placed one finger on his lips.

The message was unmistakable: blame him, and he'd make death even more agonizing than intended.