“Oh, blow it out your ear, Cyril,” I said.

And I stalked out of the Sanctity without looking back, even when first the Armourer and then Penny called my name. I was so angry my hands had curled into fists again, clenched so tight they were actually painful. My heart was pounding like a triphammer, and I could feel the angry flush in my face. I had to walk out. I couldn’t let them goad me into saying the wrong thing, making the wrong decision. There was no point in staying; the hanging judges had already made their decision. And without Molly to back me up, and the Armourer dithering . . . I would have been outvoted or shouted down no matter what I said. By my own Inner Circle . . . I couldn’t believe they’d invited Harry without even checking with me first.

I strode through the corridors and connecting rooms of the Hall, fuming to myself and glaring at any member of the family who got in my way. Most had the sense to keep well back. None of them spoke to me, just watched silently as I passed. Which suited me. Just one snide comment and I would have knocked them down.

Still, mad as I was, a part of me stood back, shaking its head and saying This isn’t like you. You always believed in don’t get mad, get even. When the Matriarch denounced me as a rogue, and sentenced me to death, I didn’t lose my rag; I went straight into planning how to bring her down. But then, I’d known I was innocent; that I hadn’t done anything wrong. That kept me going, despite all the obstacles put in my path. This . . . was different. There wasn’t room in me for anything but anger, most of it aimed at myself.

Because I screwed up. I got my people killed. My family. And nothing else mattered.

By the time I got to the front door, the anger had died down to a dull throb, and I was thinking more clearly. Or at least clearly enough that I was more concerned about Molly than myself. I hadn’t taken her seriously enough, when she said she couldn’t live in the Hall; that she needed to live among living things, in the wild. I knew she was having trouble adjusting, but I thought she’d get over it . . . now I had to wonder if she ever would. If she ever could. This was a woman used to living in her own private forest, after all. While I . . . had to stay here, in the Hall, or risk losing control of the family.