10

SIENNA

Over the next few weeks, I began to adjust to life among the rogues. It wasn’t easy, but it became familiar. The sound of boots on dirt in the morning, the smell of smoke from the fires, the harsh laughter that flowed through the night, it all became part of me somehow.

I started helping where I could. I cleaned wounds with herbs I’d learned about as a child, stitched torn clothes, and shared whatever food I had left. Slowly, people stopped looking at me like I didn’t belong. Some even said my touch calmed their wolves.

I didn’t know if that was true, but I noticed how their eyes softened when I spoke to them, how they stopped growling at one another when I was near. For a while, that felt like enough but still, not everyone welcomed me.

Elira didn't say much to me, but I could feel her eyes everywhere. She was graceful in a way that made everyone else look clumsy beside her. The kind of beauty that made silence follow her when she walked into a room.

The first time she came to the healing tent, I didn’t notice her until she spoke.

“You’re busy, little healer,” she said.

I looked up from the boy I was tending to. His arm was wrapped in fresh cloth, the edge of the bandage still damp with the salve I had used. 

“Just finishing up,” I said softly.

Elira’s eyes swept over the herbs, the bandages, the bruised faces around me. She crouched beside the boy, her perfume light but sharp, like crushed lilac. 

“Does it still hurt?” she asked him.

He shook his head quickly. “No, Luna.”

“Good.” Her fingers brushed his arm briefly, almost too gentle. Then she looked at me. “You’re good with your hands. Where did you learn?”

“My mother,” I said. “She was a healer before the war.”

Elira smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “How sweet. And now you’re here… helping rogues.”

“They need care too,” I said quietly.

Her expression softened, but something flickered in her eyes, something that wasn’t soft at all. “So selfless,” she murmured. “Rhys must find you… useful.”

The way she said it made my stomach tighten. I didn’t answer.

She reached down, picked a small leaf from the table, and held it between her fingers. 

“Feverfew,” she said. “It can heal… or kill, depending on how it’s used.”

“It depends on the hands,” I replied.

She smiled faintly. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

Then she turned and left, her gown brushing lightly against the dirt floor.

When she was gone, the boy looked at me nervously. “She scares me,” he whispered.

I forced a smile. “She just likes to be careful.”

But my hands were still trembling and I knew it was in relation to Elira.

***********************

By the end of the week, whispers began to spread. People said Elira had been asking questions about me…who I spoke to, what I did, whether Rhys had been spending more time near the healers’ tents.

“She’s watching you,” Rhea said one morning as we sorted dried herbs.

I looked up. “Watching me?”

Rhea’s fingers stilled over the leaves. “You’ve changed things here. Rhys notices. So does she.”

“I’m just trying to help.”

Rhea gave a quiet, humorless laugh. “People don’t help here unless they want something.”

“I don’t want anything.”

“Then you don’t fit in,” she said, looking at me with tired eyes.

Before I could answer, a voice called from outside. “Elira wants you.”

Rhea’s face went pale. “Be careful,” she whispered.

On getting to Elira’s room, I realized that it was like another world. Silk curtains framed the entrance, candles burned low in crystal holders, and a faint, sweet scent hung in the air. She sat before a mirror, brushing her dark hair.

When she saw me, she smiled. “Sienna. Come in.”

I stepped inside. “You wanted to see me?”

“Sit,” she said gently. “You’ve been busy.”

“I’ve been helping with the wounded.”

“I know.” She set her brush down and turned toward me. “The rogues speak highly of you. They say your hands are good with their wounds.”

“I… just do what I can do to help them.” I said, carefully.

“Then it's safe to call you an expert right?”

The way she said it sounded very offensive, in a mocking way that was meant to ridicule me.

I lowered my gaze. “I don’t know about that.”

“Humility. That’s rare here,” she said, her tone light but her eyes never leaving my face. “Tell me something, Sienna. Do you like it here?”

I hesitated. “It’s… different.”

She laughed softly. “That’s one word for it.”

She stood, moving slowly toward me. Every step she took was measured, graceful. “You’ve made quite the impression on Rhys,” she said casually.

I blinked. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh, I think you have,” she said, stopping in front of me. “He’s a man who notices little. Yet lately… he notices you.”

My chest tightened. “He’s the Alpha. He notices everything.”

“Maybe,” she said, smiling faintly. “But he didn’t send food to the others when they first came here.”

The air felt suddenly heavier.

“I didn’t ask for it,” I said quietly.

“I know,” she replied. “That’s what makes it worse.”

She turned toward the table, her fingers brushing along a silver dagger that gleamed in the candlelight. “You must understand,” she continued, “this pack is built on loyalty. Once you have it, you protect it. And once you threaten it…”

Her fingers paused on the blade.

“Things fall apart.”

Her gaze met mine in the mirror. “You’re a smart girl, Sienna. I’m sure you’ll remember that.”

I stood. “I don’t mean any harm, Luna. As soon as I have my child, I'll be out of here”

Her lips curved into a sweet, practiced smile. “Of course I know.”

I bowed my head and turned to leave.

“Tell me,” she said softly, stopping me at the entrance. “Does it ever feel strange… living under the same roof as the man who killed your kind?”

My breath caught. I didn’t look back when I answered. “Every day.”

She said nothing after that, and I left.

Outside, the air was cool and heavy with smoke from the fires. The camp was quiet, only the faint sounds of laughter somewhere far off. I walked back to my room slowly, my thoughts racing.

Rhea was waiting when I returned. “What did she want?”

“To talk,” I said, sitting down.

Rhea watched me carefully. “And?”

“She wanted to remind me that this place isn’t mine.”

Rhea looked away. “It isn’t anyone’s. Not even hers.”

“Then whose?”

Her voice was soft but certain. “Rhys.”

That night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept hearing Elira’s voice, calm and dangerous all at once. Every word she said felt like a warning dressed as kindness.

I pushed the curtain aside and looked out. The moonlight made everything silver and still.

Across the courtyard, near the edge of the main house, I saw them…Rhys and Elira. She stood close to him, one hand brushing his arm. He didn’t move, but his expression was unreadable.

Then, as if he could feel me watching, his eyes lifted. Straight to my window and he didn’t look away.

For a long time, neither of us moved. I wasn’t sure what frightened me more that he saw me watching him… or that he didn’t seem to mind.