THE HEALER'S TENT

The silence in the infirmary tent was fragile, held together by the thread of Jinx’s shallow breathing.

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‎I stood by the table, my hand still clutching my bleeding palm to my chest. My blood—dark red and shockingly normal—stained the boy's lips.

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‎"He's stable," Rhea whispered, her fingers trembling as she checked his pulse again. "The fever is breaking."

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‎"For now," I added, my voice shaking. The adrenaline was draining out of me, leaving behind a cold exhaustion. "The blood just bought him time. It diluted the magic the poison was feeding on. But we need to flush it out of his system completely.

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‎"We need a dialysis filtration," Rhea muttered, running a hand through her hair. "Or a strong diuretic tea mixed with charcoal. I have the herbs, but I need to mix the ratios perfectly."

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‎She looked overwhelmed. Her eyes were wide and frantic, darting around the cluttered tent.

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‎"I can help," I said, stepping forward. "Tell me what to do."

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‎"Don't touch him!"

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‎The shout came from the entrance. Torian stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his knife. His face was twisted in a snarl of suspicion.

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‎"How can we be certain you werent the very one who poisoned him!" Torian accused, pointing a calloused finger at me. "Think about it, Kaelen. The boy is fine all day, then he collapses, and she just happens to know exactly what it is? Just happens to have the magic cure in her veins?"

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‎"I didn't poison him!" I cried, outraged. "I gave him my dinner! Why would I—"

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‎"To play the hero," Torian spat. "To get us to trust you. It’s a classic spy tactic. Create a crisis, solve it, infiltrate."

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‎He turned to Kaelen, his yellow eyes pleading. "She’s Bloodmoon, Alpha. Magnus deals in poisons and traps. You can't let her near the boy. She’ll finish the job while we aren't looking."

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‎"Torian," Kaelen said. His voice was low, dangerous.

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‎"She’s a witch!" Torian insisted. "Or something worse. Did you see the blood? That wasn't normal healing. That was—"

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‎"ENOUGH."

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‎Kaelen didn't shout. He simply projected his Alpha aura. The air in the tent instantly grew heavy, pressing down on us like a physical weight.

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‎Kaelen stepped between me and Torian. He looked at his Beta with eyes that were cold and unyielding.

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‎"Look at the boy, Torian," Kaelen commanded.

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‎Torian hesitated, then glanced at the table where Jinx was sleeping peacefully, the color returning to his cheeks.

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‎"Is he dead?" Kaelen asked.

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‎"No," Torian grunted.

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‎"Then she didn't finish the job," Kaelen said. "She saved one of our own. While you stood there and watched."

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‎Torian flinched as if he’d been slapped. He looked at me, hate burning in his gaze, but he bowed his head to his Alpha.

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‎"If she hurts him," Torian whispered, "I will kill her myself. I don't care what your orders are."

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‎"Get out," Kaelen said quietly. "Go secure the perimeter. If Magnus is testing poisons, his scouts are close."

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‎Torian cast one last venomous glare at me and stormed out of the tent, the canvas flap whipping shut behind him.

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‎The tension in the room eased slightly, but Kaelen didn't relax. He turned to me. He looked at my hand, which was dripping blood onto the dirt floor.

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‎"Rhea," Kaelen said. "Fix her hand." 

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‎"I'm fine," I said quickly. "Jinx comes first."

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‎"He's sleeping," Kaelen said. "You're bleeding. If you pass out, you can't help us."

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‎He looked at me for a beat longer, his gaze intense and searching.

‎"I have to check the guards," he murmured. "Stay here. Don't leave this tent."

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‎It wasn't a threat this time. It was a request.

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‎He brushed past me, and for a second, his shoulder grazed mine. The spark—warm and electric—jumped between us, a silent reassurance. Then he was gone.

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‎The night stretched on, long and quiet.

‎Outside, the wind howled through the ravine, but inside the tent, it was warm and smelled of crushed sage and boiling water.

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‎Rhea and I worked in a rhythm. She measured out dried leaves—dandelion root, charcoal, and slivers of silver bark—while I ground them into a fine powder with a mortar and pestle.

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‎"Finer," Rhea instructed gently, looking over my shoulder. "It needs to dissolve instantly."

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‎I ground harder, ignoring the sting in my palm. 

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‎"You really read about this in a book?" Rhea asked after a while. She was stirring a pot of water over a small brazier.

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‎"My father's library," I nodded. "I used to hide there when... well, when things were bad at home. I read everything. History, botany, old treaties."

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‎Rhea smiled sadly. "I used to hide in the trees. Kaelen would have to climb up and drag me down for dinner."

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‎She poured the boiling water over the powder I had ground. The steam rose, smelling bitter and earthy.

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‎"Torian hates me," I said softly.

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‎"Torian hates everyone who isn't Rogue," Rhea corrected. "He lost his mate to a Bloodmoon patrol three years ago. He sees them in every shadow."

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‎She brought the cup to the table.

‎Together, we lifted Jinx’s head. I held him upright while Rhea trickled the dark liquid into his mouth. He coughed but swallowed it down.

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‎"There," Rhea sighed, brushing the hair from his forehead. "Now we wait."

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‎She turned to me, her eyes landing on my hand. I had wrapped a rag around it, but the blood had soaked through.

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‎"Give me that," she ordered.

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‎I held out my hand. Rhea unwrapped the rag, hissing when she saw the cut. It was deep, slicing right across my lifeline.

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‎"You really didn't hesitate, did you?" she murmured, reaching for a needle and thread.

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‎"He's just a kid," I said, wincing as she cleaned the wound with alcohol. "He didn't deserve to die for Magnus's experiments."

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‎Rhea began to stitch the skin. Her touch was deft and gentle.

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‎"You know," she said, not looking up. "Vexa says you're a spoiled brat. She says you're just waiting for a chance to betray us."

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‎I stiffened. "I know what Vexa thinks."

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‎"But Vexa didn't see you tonight," Rhea continued. She tied off the stitch and snipped the thread. She looked at my other hand, the one covered in blisters and burns from the kitchen work.

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‎She gently took that hand too, applying a cooling salve to the raw skin.

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‎"These aren't the hands of a princess anymore," Rhea whispered. "These are the hands of someone who is fighting."

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‎She looked up at me, her honey-brown eyes filled with a new warmth. 

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‎"Thank you, Celeste. For saving him."

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‎My throat tightened. It was the first time anyone in the camp besides Jinx had thanked me. The first time I felt like something other than a prisoner or an enemy.

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‎"We're not out of the woods yet," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "If Magnus is testing this poison... he's going to escalate."

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‎"Then we'll be ready," Rhea said firmly. "Kaelen will be ready."

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‎She finished bandaging my hands and stood up.

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‎"You should sleep. I'll take the first watch."

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‎"I'm not tired," I lied, though my eyelids felt like lead weights.

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‎"Take the cot in the corner," Rhea insisted. "If his breathing changes, I'll wake you."

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‎I walked over to the small cot in the corner of the tent and collapsed onto it. The exhaustion hit me instantly.

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‎As I drifted off, watching the shadows of the candle flicking on the canvas walls, I thought about Kaelen. I thought about the way he had stood between me and Torian.

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‎She saved one of our own.

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‎He had called Jinx "one of our own." But in defending me... he had almost sounded like he was including me in that circle. 

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‎For the first time since I was taken, I didn't dream of violet eyes and blood.

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‎I dreamed of a storm. And a black wolf standing guard in the rain, waiting for me to come home.