Chapter 2: The Tea She Never Missed  

SERAPHINA

Lysandra Arkwright's dressing room had been locked for eleven years, and the door was standing open.

I had followed the cold of Orson's warning up the back stairs without meaning to. Now I stood on a faded blue rug in a room that smelled of lilies and dust. A silk robe hung on a hook. A silver brush lay on the vanity, still holding one long dark hair. On a small velvet stand beside the mirror sat an empty indentation, the exact shape of a pebble.

What is given in secret is called stolen in daylight.

I touched the stone at my throat. It was warm.

"Miss Dale?" A young maid in a gray apron stood in the doorway with a feather duster, wide-eyed. "You cannot be in here. Nobody is allowed."

"The door was open."

"It is never open." She lowered her voice. "Elder Orson locks it himself every Friday."

"Then who unlocked it today?"

"I do not know, Miss. I did not see you." She backed away. "I did not see anything."

"Seraphina."

I spun around. My mother stood in the doorway in a pale gold gown, her chestnut hair pinned in a perfect twist, her hazel eyes wide. Her smile was soft and polite. It was the smile she wore for the pack.

"Mom."

"What are you doing in here, darling?"

"The door was open."

"It is never open." She stepped inside and shut it behind her. "Come away from that stand."

"It is only a room, Mom."

"It is a dead woman's room." Her voice was thin. "Come away."

"Did you know her?"

"Everyone knew her."

"I mean before. Before you married the Alpha."

"A little." She looked at the rug. "She was kind to me once. Do not ask me how."

I stepped back. Her eyes dropped to my collar, and her whole face changed.

"Where did you get that?"

"Alaric gave it to me."

"Alaric."

"As a graduation gift."

"Take it off."

"Mom, he gave it to me himself."

"Take it off, Seraphina. Right now."

"Why?"

"Because it is Lysandra's." She pressed her hand to her chest. "Do you know what people will say?"

"That it is a gift."

"They will say it is a claim." Her voice cracked. "Please. Just cover it." She reached into her sleeve. "I brought you something. It is your graduation day."

"You have never given me a gift, Mom."

"I gave you a toothbrush once."

"It was from the clinic."

"It was still a toothbrush." She held out a folded square of gray silk. "Take it."

I took it. The silk was cool and thin, with a lace edge.

"It is a scarf."

"Wear it high. Around your neck." She tried to smile. "It will cover the mark and the stone. Nobody needs to see either."

"Why would I hide a gift?"

"Because Lunas notice jewels."

"Mom."

"Seraphina."

"What is going on?"

"Nothing at all." She pressed her fingers together. "I only want you to be careful. For somewhere new."

"Somewhere new."

"Seraphina, please listen."

"You want me to leave Moonridge."

"I did not say that."

"You gave me a scarf for somewhere new."

"Please do not make it sound so very cruel."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because people are talking."

"About what?"

"About you and Alaric." Her voice dropped. "Isadora's mother asked me at the full moon dinner why he drives you to class. Why he sits beside you at the feast. Why his wolf goes quiet whenever you walk past."

"What does she mean, his wolf goes quiet?"

"Nothing."

"Mom."

"It is only gossip." She wiped her cheek. "And the Council is whispering. They say a wolfless girl in the Alpha house is a bad omen."

"A bad omen."

"Corvin has not said it. But he has not said otherwise." She took my hand. Her fingers were cold. "If the Council turns on you, they will turn on me."

"They would not."

"They would. I am only the second Luna." Her voice cracked. "Lysandra was loved. I am tolerated. Do you know the difference?"

"I think I do."

"Then you understand why I cannot take risks."

"Is that why you hide my birthmark?"

"I hide it because it is odd."

"You have never said it was odd."

"I am saying it now."

"Odd how?"

"It is only a mark." She looked away. "Please stop asking."

"Will I ever shift, Mom?"

"When you are ready."

"When will that be?"

"Perhaps never." She tried to smile. "Some wolves sleep their whole lives."

"That is not a comfort."

"It was not meant to be."

My chest tightened, quiet and sharp, like a plate cracking on a shelf.

"Isadora is a lovely girl," she said. "She will make a fine Luna."

"She will."

"Her family brought the Vance sapphire to the ball tonight. It is for the engagement."

"I know."

"Then you understand."

"I understand."

"Does Alaric know?" I asked.

"No. And he must not."

"He will ask."

"Then tell him you have decided." She squeezed my hand. "He will respect that."

"Can I at least say goodbye to him?"

"No."

"Not even a note?"

"A note would be cruel." Her grip tightened. "A clean break is much kinder."

"Kinder to who?"

"To everyone, darling."

"Even to him?"

"Especially to him." Her eyes shone. "He will be Alpha. He cannot afford to love a girl who cannot shift."

I looked at the empty velvet stand. At the scarf in my hands. At the stone against my skin.

"Okay," I said very quietly.

"Okay?"

"I will go, Mom."

"You are not going to argue?"

"What would I even argue about?"

She stared at me. Then her shoulders dropped, and a long breath left her. It was a sigh of relief, and I heard every part of it.

"Thank you, my darling girl," she whispered. "You are such a good, easy girl."

"I am an easy girl to send away."

"Do not say that."

"Will you hug me?"

"Not here." She glanced at the door. "Someone might see."

"Of course."

"Will you visit me?"

"When things settle."

"When will that be?"

"Soon."

"Mom."

"Wear the scarf tonight. Stay near the back of the Moon Ball hall. And smile. Nobody must see you upset."

"I know that, Mom."

"You look pale," she said. "Have you been sleeping?"

"Yes."

"Good. Rest is important." Her eyes flicked to my face. "Rest is everything."

She kissed my forehead, fast, as if it might burn her. Then she opened the door and walked out without looking back.

I sat down on the edge of Lysandra's vanity stool and held the gray scarf against my chest. I cried without a sound. I had practiced that for years. Mostly I cried because tonight was the last night I would ever see Alaric.

"Do not cry," I whispered. "You will ruin your face."

After a while, I wiped my cheeks and shook the scarf out. Something small slid from the folds and landed on the rug with a soft tap.

"What is this?" I whispered.

It was a round tin, no bigger than a coin purse, dented at one edge. I opened it. Inside lay a pinch of dried silver leaves, curled like tiny moons. They smelled bitter, like old rain.

A slip of paper was folded under them. I knew the neat, round handwriting at once.

For S. Moon tea. Every full moon. Never skip.

My fingers went cold.

"Every full moon," I whispered. "Every single one."

Every full moon since I was seven, my mother had brought a warm cup to my bedroom. For sleep, she always said. For nerves. It tasted bitter and earthy, and afterward the world would go quiet and soft, as if somebody had closed a door.

I looked out the narrow window. The sun was setting behind the mountains. Above the pines, a pale round moon was already rising.

"Mom," I whispered to the empty room. "What have you been giving me?"

Tonight was a full moon.

And tonight, for the first time in fifteen years, nobody had brought me my tea.