Chapter 2

Celine had slept less than two hours in her side-wing bedroom when Delia pushed the door open.

With thirty percent of her wolf soul gone, her inner wolf lay curled deep in her mind, and even lifting a hand took effort. Delia set a wooden bowl of calming herbs beside the bed. When Celine did not rise at once, her face hardened.

"The scent messenger sent for you three times. Why didn't you answer?"

"I was asleep."

"Cassandra is attending the Moon Feast tonight, and she can't stomach the healer's brew. Go make her moon-soul broth."

Celine stared at the bowl. In her first life, she had lived in this room until she was twenty-four. The curtains, bedding, and wardrobe still bore the childish patterns meant for pack-school girls. Her family had never allowed her on long hunts, claiming they needed to protect her wolf-soul core. She had mistaken that for care. Later, she understood: they had only been storing a tool in the safest box they owned.

"There are attendants in the kitchen," she said.

Delia froze, as if a tool had refused its purpose for the first time. Then she hurled the bowl. Its rim struck Celine's temple, and warm medicine streamed down her cheek.

"Your sister has only just come around, and you want to pick a fight now?"

Celine wiped away the blood and offered no further explanation. She needed another two and a half days; an argument would only make them watch her more closely.

She forced herself up and went to the kitchen. Gavin leaned in the doorway, watching her drop moonsleep herb into a copper pot. "First you skulk around the registry, now you're packing crates. What's this? Have you finally realized you don't belong at Redridge? Planning to sell maps for a living?"

"My maps earn salt coin."

"Do not make doodles sound so grand. A real hunter finds his way with one look at the stars. Who needs your paper?"

Celine refused the bait. She lowered the flame and noted the Alpha's deputy seal at Gavin's belt. In her first life, he had used that very seal to replace her name on her prize-winning moon map.

By the time the moon feast started, the Redridge longhouse was full. A pink-silver heir's chair sat at the center of the head table, and Cassandra had changed into a new dress and showed no trace of an eclipse attack.

Celine's place was the last seat near the door. There was no setting there, and an attendant put one out for her.

Rafe arrived late. He went to Cassandra first and bent to ask whether she felt unwell. Only then did he come to Celine and take a cup of dark red wine from an attendant's tray.

"I asked the kitchen to save this for you—the sweet wine you like." He placed the cup in her hand, then rested one arm along the back of her chair, half enclosing her. He bent close to her ear. "Once dinner is over, I'll take you into the woods to watch the moon tide. Just the two of us."

While he said it, two wolfberries floated on the surface of the wine.

When Celine was six, a wolfberry had swollen her throat shut. Maeve Holloway, the Vails' longtime housekeeper, had carried her halfway across the mountain to a healer. Everyone in the Vail household knew the story. Rafe had been with her for four years, and he had heard it too.

He either did not remember or had never cared enough to remember.

"I'm allergic." She pushed the cup back.

Rafe's hand stopped. "Since when are you allergic to wolfberries?"

"Always."

She watched his face. Confusion flickered in his eyes, followed by a flash of impatience—as if she were petty for remembering something so trivial. Then his smile returned.

"Then we'll swap it," he said. "Never mind, after the feast. I'll come and get you then, my darling little wolf."

He patted her shoulder the way a man pats a child, turned, and went back to Cassandra's side.

Celine watched the two wolfberries spin once against the rim and sink to the bottom of the wine.

She had accepted this same cup in her first life. Back then, she had mistaken his remembering the sweet wine for love. Now she knew better. He remembered the wine. He had never bothered to remember the allergy.

Across the table, Cassandra gave a light cough. Delia began rubbing her back at once, while Warren ordered the attendants to clear every spicy dish from the table. Only after every eye had turned to her did Cassandra look at Celine with an apologetic expression.

"There's one more thing. I don't know if I should say it."

Warren frowned. "We're family. What can you not say?"

Cassandra tightened her grip on her wineglass. "The healer says my wolf soul is still unstable. Could Rafe and Celine postpone their public vow a little longer? I'm not trying to delay them. It's only that once the vow is complete, Rafe must return to Blackwood territory. If I have another attack, I'm afraid the last person who can find Celine will be gone."

She made it sound as if she were worried about Celine. What she really wanted was continued access to Celine's wolf soul—and to Rafe.

Delia agreed at once. "Of course."

Warren nodded too. "The heir's health comes first."

Rafe was quiet for a moment, then turned to Celine. "It's only a delay. You understand, don't you?"

The whole table waited for her to prove she was reasonable.

Celine glanced at the moon-phase clock on the wall. Sixty hours until the Tide Gate opened.

"Fine," she answered quickly. "Delay it as long as you like."

Relief crossed Rafe's face, followed by a flicker of puzzlement. He quickly smoothed it away and reached to stroke Celine's hair. She flinched aside before his hand could touch her.

Rafe's hand froze in the air. "Good girl. I love you."

Celine lowered her eyes. Love? If loving her meant taking from her again and again for another woman, then what a cheap, shallow thing his love was.