Chapter 2: Ten Names in the Moon Well

The train from Cedar Ridge to Redwood Crest took three days, and Nora enjoyed every minute of the first two.

She had a private sleeper, a window, and a plate of hot food she hadn't had to steal. She watched the Rockies roll past, snow-capped and gold with larches, and let herself breathe. In the Collapse, a view like that would have meant a clear sightline for snipers. Now it was just scenery.

She'd cut her hair to her jaw in the train's tiny bathroom and used dark eyeliner and a bit of shadow to sharpen her face. When she looked in the mirror she saw an androgynous girl with a stubborn chin, the same face she'd worn in her old life to keep predators from looking twice. She smeared a dab of pine tar behind her ears too. It would mask her scent, and in a world of wolves, scent was everything.

On the third night, the train screeched to a stop in the middle of nowhere.

"Rogues!" someone screamed down the corridor.

Four feral wolves had torn through the roof of the dining car. Passengers shrieked. A conductor went down with blood on his collar.

Nora didn't think. She slid the door of her cabin shut, pressed her palm to the floor, and felt vines of green wood-magic uncurl through the train's old wooden frames. They snaked up the walls of the dining car, bound two of the wolves, and held. Lightning crackled up her arm. She let it flash once, thin and silent, into the third wolf's skull.

The fourth lunged at a little girl.

A dark shape hit it from the side. A huge black wolf with gold eyes bore the beast to the floor and ended it in one bite.

The black wolf looked up and met her eyes through the splintered door.

Then he was gone, out the shattered window, and the lights flickered on.

Nora leaned on the doorframe, shaking, and told herself she'd imagined the gold.

---

Moonstone Academy rose out of the redwoods like a cathedral made of white stone and silver glass. Nora stepped out of the cab at the front gates at dawn on Wednesday, dragging her one duffel bag. A crowd of new students milled about, whispering.

"All unmated females, to the Moon Well," a prefect called.

The Moon Well sat in the middle of the main quad: a round basin of silver water, glowing faintly, with a hush around it like the quiet inside a church. Each girl stepped up in turn, dipped her fingertips, and waited. The water showed her matches.

When Nora's turn came, she touched the surface, and the water went black.

Then it began to glow, one by one, with ten rings of light.

The prefect read them aloud, her voice rising with each name.

"Mason Reed, twenty-two, rank S. Brooks Callahan, twenty-three, rank S. Hudson Pierce, twenty-five, rank S-plus. Colt Sterling, twenty-six, SS. Jackson Rowe, twenty-seven, S-plus. Everett Lane, twenty-nine, SS-plus. Beckett Quinn, thirty, SS. Declan Hayes, thirty-two, SS. Walker Stone, thirty-four, SS."

She paused to breathe.

"And Alexander Blackthorne, thirty-nine, rank SSS."

The quad went dead silent. Then someone laughed. Someone else whispered, "Ten? For a C-plus?"

Nora's face went hot. Her old self would have crumbled. Her new self lifted her chin. "Does the Moon Well make mistakes?"

"The Moon Well has never made a mistake," the prefect said faintly. "It is the Moon Goddess's own judgment, Miss Whitlock. The Academy doesn't choose your matches, and neither does the Pack Council. We only record what the Well reveals. Ten matches have been written in your name, and ten males have just received their summons. A match becomes a true mate bond only when the bond is formed and the male offers his mating mark. If you are unhappy within three months, you may break the match once, and the male pays a $500,000 penalty. If more than half of your matches fall through, the Well will choose again."

"Then I guess I'm popular."

A few girls snorted. Others glared. Nora kept her face blank and walked on, but inside she was thinking: Ten men. One of them with gold eyes.

---

Her dorm was in Birchwood Hall, a row of little cottages with sunny windows for the higher-ranked girls and shady ones for the rest. The first-years were required to live on campus for two years. The cottage had two rooms, a tiny kitchen, and a balcony that looked onto a redwood grove.

"Hi! You're my neighbor!" A girl with long pink hair popped out of the next cottage, grinning. "I'm Poppy Hartley. Do you want to go to the campus store with me? I need everything."

"Sure. I'm Nora."

"Wait for me!" A round-cheeked girl hurried out of the cottage across the path. "Can I come too? I'm Lucy Bennett."

They walked together, and Poppy leaned toward Nora and sniffed. "Huh. You smell like pine trees and not much else. Are you sure you're not a boy?"

"Pretty sure."

"Short hair's unusual, that's all." Poppy shrugged, unbothered. "I like it."

Nora hid a smile. Pine tar had worked.

At the store, she bought a toothbrush, a blanket, and a bag of oranges. When she stepped out into the afternoon light, her phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.

Do not attend the opening ceremony on Saturday. Trust no one.

She stared at it. Another buzz.

A friend.

Across the quad, standing under the redwoods with his hands in his coat pockets, a tall man with black hair and a scarred eyebrow watched her read it.

He didn't smile. He just inclined his head, once, and walked away.