Chapter 235

AURORA

“Be on guard,” she said, her voice firm. “Whoever did this wants you to doubt yourself. Don’t give them the satisfaction.”

That evening, I strolled through the village – the sun setting over the houses and fields. Wolves ran around, preparing dinner or doing errands; the air was filled with their laughter and conversations. I had only briefly closed my eyes and allowed the sense of community we’d built up together to wash over me, until the words of that note began sounding loud and clear, reminding me silently about something that was never meant to appear in the first instance.

I ran past the training grounds where Dane was working with a group of young wolves, his voice firm and steady as he walked them through their drills. He is a well I drew strength from, and for a moment, a surge of gratefulness ran through my veins.

“Dane,” I said as I came up to him.

He finally looked up, and from the soft lines of his face, I knew all was well. “Hey, you. Everything okay?”

I hesitated and then nodded. “Just needed to see you.”

He smiled and closed the space between us, pulling me into a brief, firm hug. “You’ve got that look,” he said softly.

“What look?”

“The one which says you’re carrying too much on your shoulders.”

I let out a sigh, leaning into him. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“You don’t have to do it alone,” he reminded me.

Finally, as the sun began to set, I found myself meandering back toward the packhouse, but my mind just would not let go of that note. I sat down in the chair in front of the desk and fixed my gaze on the folded paper, almost as if all the answers would emanate from its folds. The only sound was the soft rustling outside my window. I whipped around, my heart suddenly racing, but shadows of course showed me nothing.

“Get a hold of yourself, Aurora,” I growled, shaking my head into the dark.

But it was the nagging that still wouldn’t resolve itself. I locked the note in the drawer and, rising, made my mind to sleep. But no sooner had I reached for the button to turn off the light, heading for my bed, than that phrase echoed through my head again.

“You’re not as perfect as they think you are.”

It was still locked in my desk drawer, but it might as well have been burning a hole through the wood. Every time my mind would wander, the words in jagged letters would loom within my mind: “You’re not as perfect as they think you are.”

I hadn’t told Dane yet. Not because I didn’t trust him, but also because I didn’t want to blow something big out of what might just be a passing grudge, either. The pack had enough on its plate.

I’d mend a few bridges today. Piper and Warrick hadn’t said a word to each other since that incident at the meeting, and it was getting old in the training area. I found them on opposite sides of the field, acting like the other didn’t exist.

“Alright, enough is enough,” I told myself, approaching Piper first. “Piper,” I called, and she turned, her eyebrows furrowing at the resolve set in my expression. “Come with me.”

“Why?” she asked, folding her arms.

“Because you two are stronger together,” I said, firm, angling my head in Warrick’s direction where he was pretending to study a bunch of throwing knives. “Not apart, because of the little things that happen.”

With a soft huff, she turned that way. “He’s the one who–”

“I’m not here to blame anyone,” I cut in. “I’m here to remind you that whatever this is, it’s not worth the wedge it’s creating. Fix it.”

Piper considered a moment, then nodded her head grudgingly. “Fine. But when he says something stupid, it’s on him.”

I bit off a smile. “Deal.”

I watched from across the room as she approached Warrick, her shoulders set, but solid.

“Warrick,” she said loudly.

He turned, surprised, bleeding into wariness, and asked, “What’s up?”

Piper blew out a breath; her shoulders sagging a fraction as she said, “Look… It’s been difficult. I let my jealousy get the better of me, and I’m sorry for snapping at you.”

Warrick blinked, surprised plastered on his features before a slow grin spread across his face. “You? Jealous? Never.”

“Don’t push it,” Piper warned, not too much venom in her tone.

“I like that you’re possessive,” he said to her, softening into a grin. “But honestly, Piper, it’s never something you need to concern yourself with. It has always been you.” Piper turned pink as her gaze darted away, mumbling quietly to herself, and Warrick found himself leaning deeper. “What was that?”

“Nothing!!” she flung out, but a little hitching smile betrayed her.

They stood there a moment, the tension between them dissolving. I permitted myself a small, satisfied smile as Warrick reached out and pulled her into a gentle hug and turned to make my way out of there.

I found Trajan later that afternoon in the common hall, at a table with a piece of wood and a carving knife. He didn’t notice me at first, his concentration completely on the intricate design he worked out.

“Trajan,” I said, and he looked up, startled. “Luna,” he greeted, the immediate tendency to set the carving aside as if I had let him off a secret. “What’s that?” I asked, nodding toward the wood.

He fumbled for a moment before plucking it from the pocket, pinching it between his fingers and holding it out for me to view. It was a medallion, cunningly carved with the picture of a wolf howling at the moon.

“It’s for Joclyn,” he admitted, his voice low for once. “She’s been… helping me. I wanted to thank her.”

I smiled. “It’s lovely. She’s going to like it.”

He nodded, a small, nervous smile flickering around his lips. “Hope so.”

It was in tatters for others: It had been some time since Rowan had grown a little distant, the brooding frustration visibly greater with each new day; he snappily snapped back at wolves doing training and wholly avoided communal meals altogether.

Alina – the opportunist – seemed stuck to him. Once, I saw them out, walking up the length of the forest verge, talking in low voices, hers insistent, leaning into him with persuasiveness. Whatever she was telling him, it fed something inside him.

Afternoon, when the sun climbed too close to its zenith, I sought out Rowan, hoping to get through. He was piling wood near the training arena; jerky, impatient movements.

“Rowan,” I said, and he straightened.

“Luna,” he returned, his tone flat.

I took one more step closer, my voice soft. “I’ve noticed you seem a little off lately. Is something bothering you?”