Chapter 3: Rust and Ash  

SERAPHINA

For the first time in my life, I could smell the wolves.

I stood at my bedroom window with the gray scarf in my hands and the whole manor poured into my nose at once. Pine smoke from the kitchen. Wet leather from the stables. Roast venison, polish, wine, and under everything, a hundred different wolf scents, sharp and warm and wild, rising from the courtyard like steam.

"Is this what it is like?" I whispered. "Every day, for all of you? How do you ever sleep?"

The moon hung huge and white over the pines. It felt like a hand pressing against my chest.

A knock rattled the door.

"Seraphina?"

I jumped. Cedarwood and cold rain swept under the door before he even spoke, so strong I almost staggered.

"Alaric?"

"May I come in?"

"I am not dressed."

"You are wearing the cream dress."

"How do you know?"

"I can smell the starch." He sounded amused. "Open the door."

I wrapped the scarf around my neck, covering the mark and the stone, and opened it. Alaric stood in the corridor in a black suit, a black half-mask pushed up on his forehead. His silver eyes moved over my face and stopped.

"You have been crying."

"No."

"Your eyes are red."

"It is the moonlight. It is very bright tonight."

"Seraphina."

"Please do not ask me anything tonight."

"Your mother left the east wing looking pale. Isadora's mother left it smiling." His jaw tightened. "What did they say to you?"

"Nothing important."

"You are a terrible liar."

"So I have heard."

"Why are you wearing a scarf indoors?"

"My mother asked me to."

"Why?"

"She says Lunas notice jewels."

His gaze dropped to my throat. Something flickered across his face, soft and puzzled. "You are wearing it."

"Of course I am."

"Good." He held out his arm. "Walk down with me."

"Mom told me to stay near the back."

"Your mother tells you many things." His voice was low. "Tonight, you walk with me."

I took his arm.

At the foot of the grand stairs, a servant held a velvet tray covered in masks.

"Masks?" I said. "Nobody told me."

"The Moon Ball. Every high-ranking wolf wears one until the moon reaches the top of the sky."

"Why?"

"My great-grandmother started it. She said a wolf is truest when the pack cannot read her face." He lifted a smoky-violet mask from the tray. A silver crescent curved over the brow. "This one."

"Why this one?"

"It will not hide your eyes." His mouth curved. "I would like to see them."

My heart skipped. I tied it on.

"There you are, darling."

Isadora Vance glided toward us in a long white gown and a white feather mask with a silver crescent. Her platinum hair fell to her waist. She kissed Alaric's cheek, and her clear blue eyes slid over my scarf.

"Isadora."

"You look handsome." She turned to me. "And Seraphina. What a lovely scarf. Did your mother choose it?"

"She did."

"I thought so." She smiled. "Your cousin wants you, darling."

A tall man in a pale suit stepped out of the crowd, dark blond hair swept back, pale green eyes bright behind a silver mask. A wolf's-head ring flashed on his finger.

"Alaric. Quite a night."

"Damon."

"And little Seraphina." His smile was polished and cold. "The girl who keeps my cousin from concentrating."

"I do not keep him from anything."

"Of course not." He glanced from Alaric's face to mine. "How interesting."

"What is?"

"Nothing at all." He bent toward Isadora. "Remember what I told you. Keep an eye on the wolfless one."

"I always do," Isadora murmured.

"What did he say?" I asked.

"Nothing, darling." Isadora squeezed my arm. "Do enjoy yourself."

They drifted away together, whispering.

"I do not like him," I said.

"Good," Alaric said quietly. "You are learning."

An hour later, he found me beside the dessert table.

"You promised me a dance."

"I promised nothing."

"I am collecting anyway." He held out his hand. "We are two strangers in masks."

"People will talk."

"Let them."

A slow song began. His hand rested at my waist, and cedarwood and cold rain wrapped around me.

"You are shaking," he said.

"I am wearing high heels."

"You are a terrible liar."

"Then stop asking me questions."

"Tell me something."

"What?"

"What do I smell like to you?"

My breath caught. "How did you know I could smell?"

"You have been sniffing the air all night." His eyes were bright. "Like a pup at her first feast."

"You smell like home."

His step faltered. "Home."

"Cedar. Cold rain." My voice was small. "It is the only place that ever smelled safe."

He did not speak for a moment. "Your scent changed tonight."

"How?"

"It is brighter." His voice was rough. "Like rain on wildflowers. It was never this loud before."

"Is that bad?"

"It is the opposite of bad."

His thumb moved across my back.

"Alaric, there you are." Damon appeared beside us with a heavy silver goblet of dark red wine. "The Alpha is waiting for the toast. A Moonridge vintage. Brewed for the future Alpha."

"I do not want it."

"Please." Damon pressed it into his hand. "Everyone will notice if you hold nothing. Drink to your future, cousin."

I leaned closer. A thin bitter smell rose from the cup, sharp as old coins and burned weeds.

"Alaric, wait," I said.

"It is only wine."

"It smells like rust and ash."

"You are smelling the oak." He laughed. "You have been sniffing all night."

"To Moonridge," Corvin called from the stage, tall and silver-templed, his hard blue eyes sweeping the crowd.

Alaric drank the whole goblet.

"Excuse us," Isadora said sweetly, and drew him toward the stage. He looked back at me once, smiling. I did not smile back.

Ten minutes later, I found him at the edge of the dance floor, gripping a marble column.

"Alaric?"

He did not answer. Sweat shone along his jaw.

"Alaric, look at me."

"The room is tilting," he said.

"You drank the wine."

"It tasted strange." He frowned. "Where is Isadora?"

"I do not know. Can you walk?"

"Yes."

"Does it hurt?"

"I cannot think." His voice was low and scared. "I cannot smell anything. Everything is gone."

I grabbed his arm. His skin was fire. "Lean on me."

"Do not call the healer," he said. "My cousin is watching. If the Council sees me weak, they will use it."

"Then I will take you to your room."

"North tower. Top of the long stairs."

"I know where it is."

I smiled at everyone we passed. In his room, I lowered him onto the bed. He tore off his mask.

"I will bring water."

"Do not go."

"I will be right back."

"Isadora," he whispered.

I froze.

"Isadora. Where is she?"

"She is downstairs."

"Get her. Please."

Something inside me folded up. "You want Isadora?"

"Please."

"Of course," I said quietly. "I will find her."

I walked out and shut the door.

In the hallway, my legs shook. Of course he wants her. She is the one everyone expects.

Then I saw it.

On a small table beside his door lay a white feather mask with a silver crescent. Exactly like Isadora's.

"No," I whispered. "She left it."

One night. He will not remember. Nobody will ever know.

"He is sick. This is wrong."

Tomorrow you will be gone.

"He called for her."

He will never know it was not her.

"Forgive me, Alaric," I whispered.

I took off my violet mask and tied the white one over my face. I opened the door. Alaric lay on the bed with one arm across his eyes. "Isadora?" he mumbled.

I did not answer. I turned off the lamp, and the room fell into darkness.

Then, against my collarbone, something began to glow.

A pale blue light bloomed through the gray silk of my scarf. The moonstone was awake. It pulsed once, like a heartbeat, and deep inside my chest, something I had never felt before slowly opened its eyes.