Chapter 5: Fit for the Moon

Cerys left her lunch unfinished after the woman called her the weakest wolf in the pack.

The woman had meant to comfort her. That was the trouble. Cerys could have argued that Rhys had no right to be ashamed of her, but the woman hadn't said he was. She had spoken as though leaving Cerys was one more burden the new Alpha ought to be spared.

“I have an appointment,” Cerys said.

“Shall I come with you?”

“No, thank you.”

The woman looked hurt. Cerys took her tray back before she could apologize for declining help she hadn't asked for.

She was due to see Elis before Wolf Night. Usually Rhys would have been waiting when she came out, asking what Elis had said and whether she was hiding pain from him. Cerys had sometimes told him to stop fussing, then let him walk her home anyway. Today she wanted the appointment finished before he thought to find her.

Elis was at his desk when she reached the medical rooms. He looked up from his work and pulled a chair toward her with his foot.

“Sit down. You look like you've been arguing with someone.”

“Only half the silo.”

“That sounds exhausting,” Elis said.

She sat. Elis had treated her after more Wolf Nights than she cared to count. He knew which old injuries still bothered her and how fiercely she disliked being spoken to as though she might break. When she had been too hurt to get out of bed, he never mistook wanting to stand for being able to.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked.

“Not that I know of. I want to go out with the others.”

“Then we'll see whether you can.”

He didn't ask about Rhys. The relief that brought was embarrassing. Cerys had begun expecting everyone to look at her as though the breakup required an explanation.

Elis gave her his attention, the same as he always had. He asked about the pain that lingered from the last moon and examined what needed looking at. Cerys answered him without making herself sound braver or worse than she felt. He had seen her in too many states to be fooled by either.

When he finished, he sat across from her rather than making his decision while she was still standing in front of him.

“You're fit to go this time,” he said.

Cerys hadn't realized how much she had been waiting for those words. Being kept inside would have meant watching everyone else leave and wondering who would come back. She could scarcely imagine staying behind while her coworkers went out.

“Good.”

“That isn't a promise you'll come back without needing me.”

“I wasn't going to ask for one,” Cerys said.

“Good,” he said, and this time his mouth moved toward a smile.

She rose. The relief ought to have been simple. Instead she was thinking of the people who had watched her dragged home before, and of Rhys, who had been one of them. If she told him Elis had cleared her, he would hear only that she could go.

Elis reached for her folder, then stopped. “Anything else you want to tell me?”

Cerys looked at him. He had asked the question the way he asked whether a pain was still there: directly, without deciding the answer for her.

“No.”

“All right.”

At the door she hesitated. “If Rhys asks about the appointment—”

“He can ask you.”

“Thank you.”

Elis returned to his work, leaving her to go.

Rhys was waiting outside the medical rooms.

He pushed away from the wall when he saw her. She stopped so abruptly that someone coming along the passage had to walk around them.

“I didn't know you'd come today,” he said.

“I had an appointment.”

“I know.”

Of course he did. He knew when she usually came here, and he knew how close they were to Wolf Night. Cerys had spent years telling him where she was going without ever considering that she might want to keep a piece of her day to herself.

“Did Elis clear you?”

“He did.”

Rhys took that in. He looked tired; the celebration had ended, but there had been no end to the people who needed their new Alpha. Cerys knew she could still make him laugh by asking whether anyone had finally let him eat. She wanted to ask. She kept her mouth shut.

“Are you sure you're ready?” he said.

“Elis thinks I am.”

“I'm asking you.”

“I know what you asked,” someone said.

He moved closer, then checked himself. They had stood outside this room together after terrible mornings, with Rhys holding her coat because her arms had been too stiff to get into it. Once, when she couldn't bear to hear anyone say how lucky she was, he had sat beside her without speaking until she could face the rest of the silo. She wanted that man now, although being near him was making it worse.

“I've seen what happens afterward,” Rhys said.

“So have I.”

“You see some of it. You don't see yourself when they bring you in.”

Cerys couldn't argue with him. The sight of her injuries had frightened him for years; she knew that. But the woman at lunch had made his fear sound like an excuse everyone could share, and Cerys was tired of people discussing what her body cost him while she stood close enough to hear.

“I went to Elis because I needed to know whether I could go,” she said. “Not because I needed you to decide for me.”

“I wasn't trying to decide.”

“You were waiting outside his door,” someone said.

“I wanted to know you were all right.”

“You could have asked me when I was ready to tell you.”

Rhys looked past her toward the medical rooms. She recognized the effort it took him not to go in and ask Elis the questions he thought she might have answered too quickly. He had always wanted the whole truth when she was hurt. He had also been the person she trusted to hear it.

“You can worry about me,” she said. “I can't stop you. But you don't get every detail just because you're worried.”

His attention returned to her. “Is this about what happened yesterday?”

“It's about what happened yesterday and what you're doing now.”

“Cerys, I haven't stopped caring whether you live.”

She'd needed to hear him say it. She resented that he could say it and still leave.

“I know,” she said. “I haven't stopped caring about you either.”

For a moment he looked as though he might reach for her. Instead he said, “Then let me help you before the moon.”

She started to pass him. Rhys caught her forearm, lightly but firmly enough to stop her.

The contact was familiar. Her body remembered how often she had turned toward him when she was afraid. She looked down at his hand until he loosened his grip, then pulled free.

“Don't,” she said.

He stepped back. “I'm sorry.”

“I'm cleared. That's what you needed to know as Alpha. The rest is mine.”

He let her go, but she heard him follow as far as the turn in the passage.

“Cerys.”

She stopped. He had used that tone before when she left the medical rooms determined to prove she was fine. It had once meant he would walk beside her whether she complained or not.

“Please don't do anything stupid out there,” he said.

Cerys faced him. “Rhys, you know I can't remember what I do on Wolf Night.”