Chapter 19

Chapter 19

ELENA

For a long moment, neither of us moved.

The rain tapped against the window. Somewhere down in the yard, a horse snorted. Kade stood in the doorway with water dripping off his coat, and I stood by his desk with the black cloth in my shaking hand.

"Elena," he said slowly. "Put that down."

"Why?" My voice came out sharp. "Are you afraid I'll show someone?"

He closed the door behind him. Not hard. Softly. Like he was trying not to scare a wild animal.

"I came back early," he said. "I felt you. Through the bond. Your heart was racing like you were in danger. I thought something happened to you."

"Something did happen to me." I held the cloth up between us. "Your pack happened to me."

He looked at it. Then he looked at me. His face was tired, and sad, and I hated that it made my chest hurt.

"I found that in the street," he said. "That night. When I got to Willowbrook, the village was already burning. It was lying on the ground near the bakery. I picked it up."

"And you kept it."

"Yes."

"In your desk. Folded up nice and neat. Like a present."

"Like proof," he said. "Somebody wearing my colors burned your village. I don't know who. I kept it so I would never forget that."

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

"Then why didn't you tell me?" My voice cracked. "I asked you. Over and over, I asked you who did it. And you looked me in the eye and said you didn't know. You never said a word about this."

His jaw tightened. "Because if the pack finds out, it tears us apart. Half of them would call me a liar. The other half would start pointing fingers at each other. And if the humans in the valley find out, they'll come with fire and silver, and more people will die. On both sides." He took a step toward me. "I was trying to find out who it was first. Quietly. Before anyone else got hurt."

It sounded so reasonable. It sounded so true.

That was the worst part. He was so good at sounding true.

I wanted to throw the other thing at him. The dagger. The voice in my ear. Who do you think told me to give it to you? I wanted to scream the name at him and watch his face.

I opened my mouth. My throat started to close.

I stopped. I swallowed. I let the name go before it could choke me.

Kade saw it. He saw something in my face, because he frowned and took another step.

"Elena? What's wrong? What aren't you telling me?"

I laughed. It came out ugly and broken. "That's funny. Coming from you."

I dropped the cloth on the desk. I walked past him to the door. He didn't try to stop me. He just said my name, very quietly, as I passed.

I didn't look back.

I needed air.

I walked out of the pack house and through the garden and past the training yard. I kept walking. The rain had turned into a thin gray mist that hung between the trees. My boots sank into the wet grass. I didn't care where I was going. I just wanted to be far away from him. Far away from all of them.

The bond pulled at my chest as I went. It hurt a little. Not like the first day. I was getting used to it. Or maybe it was getting used to me.

I walked until the paths ran out. Until there were no more houses, no more fences, no more wolves. Just old trees and wet ferns and the sound of water somewhere close by.

Then I smelled it.

Lavender. Mint. Wet earth. Wood smoke.

I followed the smell down a narrow path between the trees and came out into a small clearing. In the middle of it stood a little hut made of gray stone, with a roof of old moss and a crooked chimney puffing thin smoke. Around the hut was a garden. Not a big one. But it was beautiful. Neat rows of herbs, each one tied to a small wooden stick. Rosemary. Thyme. Sage. Tall stalks of yarrow with flat white flowers. Orange marigolds glowing in the gray light.

It looked like my mother's garden.

My throat went tight, and I had to stop and breathe for a moment.

Someone was kneeling in the dirt near the door. A young man, maybe my age or a year older. He was slim, with narrow shoulders and long dark hair tied back at the neck with a strip of leather. He was cutting sprigs of lavender and laying them carefully in a wide basket. Two more baskets sat beside him, full of leaves and flowers.

He was humming softly to himself.

I didn't want to scare him. I started to step back into the trees.

Then I heard the laughing.

Three men came down the other path, from the far side of the clearing. Big men. Older. Warriors, by the way they walked, with scars on their arms and knives on their belts. One of them had a gray beard cut short. I had seen him in the great hall. He had been one of the ones who didn't clap when I won.

The young man in the garden heard them too. He stopped humming. His shoulders went stiff. He didn't look up.

"Well, look at this," the gray-bearded man said. "The little flower is picking flowers."

The other two laughed.

"Leave me alone, Orrin," the young man said quietly. "Please. I'm not bothering anyone."

"You're bothering me just by breathing." Orrin walked right up to the baskets. "What is it this time? Potions? Perfume?" He sniffed and made a face. "Smells like a girl's bedroom in here."

"That's because he is a girl," one of the others said. "Aren't you, Krystal? Half a girl, anyway. Or half a man. Nobody can tell which."

"An omega," Orrin spat. "A male omega. You know what my grandfather used to call things like you? A curse. A crack in the moon. They used to leave you in the woods as babies, did you know that? Let the rogues deal with you."