Side Effects

Dragging myself out of bed the next day was nearly impossible.

The medicine Doctor Andromeda gave me lingered long after the moon set and the sun crested over the mountain range surrounding Snow Pointe. I barely slept. Unless fading in and out of consciousness counted. To me, it didn't.

When my vision finally focused, the shack was lit in the soft glow of dawn.

Damn it! I'm late!

Delta Hester's ire awaited me. I knew I was doomed to suffer the second I entered the packhouse. All servants were supposed to report before dawn for kitchen duties. I was at least two hours behind. But even the impending doom of Delta Hester's rage wasn't enough to lift the lead from my veins.

Arya whimpered in my mind, still muted and motionless after last night.

Arya?

Nothing.

Can you speak?

No response.

Fear prickled along my spine. What if Andromeda's treatment kept me from being able to join with my wolf and shift? What if the effects were permanent? What if I remained a powerless omega forever?

But a dark thought lanced through me and made my breath hitch.

What if that was Andromeda's goal all along?

With all the force I could muster, I rose from the bed and shook my head clear. No, I couldn't permit myself to think such things. Though her attitude toward me had certainly shifted in recent years, Doctor Andromeda still did her best to keep me alive, even though I was not important in Snow Pointe. In other packs, a weak, orphaned omega would never have received such extensive care from the pack doctor. It was a miracle that I was still standing, and it wasn't right for me to question the miracle worker.

Another few minutes passed before I could move my legs off the side of the bed and beneath me. The numb, tingling throb pulsed in my muscles. I'd never felt so weak before. Even after all-day treatments in the infirmary, I was able to stand without breaking into a cold sweat. But that day, breathing felt impossible.

By the grace of the Moon Goddess, I managed to get dressed and make my way into the packhouse kitchens. Delta Hester wasted no time.

She cornered me against the wall, a heavy sack of potatoes tucked under her arms, her eyes blazing and furious.

"Where have you been, Fumbles?! This is a nightmare!" she hissed, shoving the potatoes against my chest hard enough to send me to the ground with them. "Get up! We haven't the time for your theatrics. Alpha and Luna Snow have decided to celebrate Lady Evangeline's successful shift and awakening as an Alpha wolf last night with a feast."

Delta Hester's meaty hand gripped my loose collar and yanked me upright, shoving me toward my workstation in the corner, where another three sacks of potatoes awaited me.

"They've invited all the pack leadership as well as pack leaders from around the region to celebrate with them tonight! We've been all hands on deck since 3 AM. What on earth were you doing, runt?"

I stammered, trying to find the words to explain what happened. But the truth sat as heavy as stone in my gut. My voice died, and I closed my mouth, shaking my head.

Even if I explained, Delta Hester would never be satisfied with the answer. It was better to duck my head and get to work. That's what she wanted, anyway. Explanations were excuses. Reasons were lies. And nothing I said would ever matter to a wolf like her.

The potato sack in my arms was an anchor, and I dragged it as best I could to my station. Isolated from the rest, I sat atop my stool and found my peeling knife in my bucket. Angry gazes burned my back, and whispered insults flitted by my ears between the sound of potato peels hitting the ground.

"—thinks she's special because she's sick and weak. Weak ain’t somethin’ to be proud of..."

"Absolute waste of time, that one."

"Probably wants to cry now that Phillipe isn't here to pick up her slack. Poor thing has to actually work to earn her keep instead of hiding out in the infirmary all day."

Delta Hester's voice cut through the noise, vicious and sharp.

"Less talking, more cooking, the lot of you! This feast must be perfect, and not a single dish can suffer for your yapping!"

I knew better than to feel relieved that she silenced their gossip. It wasn't for my benefit. Never that. And if I showed even a sliver of gratitude, I'd feel the bite of her wooden spoon on my knuckles for certain.

- -

Two hours to peel twenty pounds of potatoes. Another hour boiling and mashing them all down. And then came the fun part. Trash duty. I was tasked with hauling all the peels and other compostable scraps to the outer gardens for disposal. It was the worst job in the kitchens, no doubt punishment for my late start. But that day, it could have been murder for the way my body dragged and ached.

"Delta Hester... is there any way I could get help with the--"

Her glare sliced through my request like a hot blade through butter. My mouth clamped shut, and I ducked my head again, grabbing up a small basket and filling it with as much waste as I could carry. I would have made twenty trips if that was what it took to clear out all the scraps before I ever dared ask the Deathly Delta for help with my chores again.

Hauling the scraps twenty yards from the kitchen doors to the garden patch was strangely relieving. The fresh air and a light breeze calmed my nerves and lightened the heaviness in my limbs. Slowly, very slowly, I made my way to the gardens and out of the miasma caused by Doctor Andromeda's medicine. Just as I rounded the corner and the small fenced-off plot of plants was in sight, I heard the sharp click of a tongue behind me.

"What is this thing doing out of the kitchens?"

Evangeline's voice cut through the air, sharp as a blade and tainted with displeasure. She circled me, eyes studying me like a bird of prey who'd discovered its favorite snack scurrying between bushes. "You smell... pathetic. Weak. Didn't get your wolf, servant? Are you so miserable that even a wolf refused to claim you?"

"Has it already had its seventeenth moonday?" a deeper voice joined in the mockery. Brayden, no doubt. One of her closest friends in the pack. A Beta in training. And not just them. Evangeline's entire posse flanked me, sneering at the compost scraps and at me with equal measures of disgust. "It still looks like a pup. All scrawny and hunched over. Can't you stand properly?"

"Oh, the poor thing. I don't think it can," Serena cooed, her tone a poisonous sarcasm as her talon-like hand clamped down on the back of my neck with relentless pressure. "Let's help it out. Here. You've got to straighten up, like this."