Lunaria (A Soulmark Series Finale), page 28
What did I want? Indecision scratches at the back of my throat, robbing me of what answer I might give.
I want to go home, there is no point in denying it. I miss the mundane yet satisfying task of trimming the mammoth ceav and limbre flowers. I miss racing my friends in the Valley of Raines. I miss communal dinners and watching young fairies learn to fly. And yet, the thought of leaving the pack and coven in their hour of need is gut-wrenching, for I know firsthand what evil hunts them down.
"We understand, Luna," Xander declares gently. His arm wraps around Zoelle's back and she leans into his side. "Whenever you're ready to—"
"I want to stay," I blurt out. Our trio exchanges surprised looks as I attempt to stamp out my rising blush. "I can't leave knowing what lies ahead of you. I want to stay and help."
Xander recovers first, his astonishment pulling away into a minor frown. "You've helped us far more than we could ever repay you, Luna. I won't have you put in harm's way again. Not this close to the end."
My lips thin as I puff out my chest. "You need all the help you can get, Xander. The Wselfwulfs have called to arms other packs to join their efforts. Those packs wish to rule with the same authority as the Wselfwulfs; without consequence and with limitless power.
"You fight for more than independence from the Wselfwulfs and your alliance with the coven," I declare, my hands tightening around my mug. "You're fighting for the men and women still trapped in that miserable pack. I saw countless faces etched with the same expression: despair. Hopelessness. There are dozens trapped under Noah's rule—you're fighting for them too."
Zoelle tucks in closer to Xander's side. Her focus is unwavering upon me. Xander's eyes draw to the top of her head as both collect their thoughts. As if sensing his regard, Zoelle tilts her head back to return his thoughtful gaze.
"I know I am not a fighter by any means, but I am not without talent," I ramble on, abandoning my tea in favor of wringing my hands. "I am a light—though not like Celosia for I could never shine as brightly as her—but I am a light nonetheless. I will lift the spirits of any who need it. I can grow helpful herbs and plants for medicine!” My exuberance dims a touch as I catch my breath. “But I will not ask my friends to help,” I say somberly. “They've been through too much, but I would like to."
Xander's green eyes slant to me, his eyebrows framing together. "And Adrian?”
I squirm in my seat. My head moves slowly side to side, while a knot twists up my stomach. "He does not wish to fight in this war any longer. The Wselfwulfs forced him to, but I will not… and I will not let you force him either." I thrust up my chin, prepared to defend Adrian’s desire for peace. As I do, my heart fills with warmth, for I realize that despite the difference we will face in our future, Adrian and I will always do our best to protect one another.
Xander holds up both hands and unconsciously mirrors Zoelle's hiked eyebrows. "We won't force him to fight," he promises and drops his hands, his lips twitching upward as he glances down at Zoelle.
"We know this isn't your war, Luna, or his, but you're right. We can't afford to turn away your help and would greatly appreciate it in any measure. Thank you. And thank you for speaking with Nova yesterday. She told us last night that they would be staying to help." Zoelle tries to curb her oncoming smile but fails miserably. “I know it’s too soon to say… but I really think we have a shot at beating the Wselfwulfs. I really do,” she says, her smile infectious.
I roll back my shoulders, the knot in my stomach loosening as my heart flutters with anticipation. I smile back at Zoelle.
"I'm glad I will be able to help you. I care about the fate of everyone here. You are my friends—my family." My chin wobbles, but I keep my head high. "Tell me what can I do to help? How will we beat them? The Wselfwulfs have far more wolves—"
"The Wselfwulfs aren't the only ones who have allies." Xander interrupts confidently and crosses his arms over his chest. He doesn't elaborate further.
"You can help out in our greenhouses, Luna. We need as many plants as we can get to make more potions and elixirs before the fighting begins." I nod quickly at Zoelle's suggestion. "Maybe, if there's time and you have the appropriate supervision—" Zoelle casts a furrowed brow Xander's way "—you can help prepare the forest?"
My eyes dart back and forth between the two. "Of course, I can! What would you like me to do?" I reclaim my tea and take a long drink. The sharp citrus taste is duller now that the tea is cooler, but the subtler flavor still manages to boost my energy. “Oh, I know!” I say before Xander or Zoelle can get a word in. “I can forge clever hiding spots. Or recruit floral lookouts—though depending on the distance that may prove difficult—oh! I can set traps!”
Zoelle stares at me wide-eyed for a moment but quickly gathers herself over my enthusiasm. "The hiding spots would be immensely helpful," Zoelle says, setting aside her finished breakfast and mirroring my enthusiasm. "Would it be possible—?"
The door to the kitchen slams into the wall with a bang as Adrian enters. He scowls at our group. "She isn't helping."
Xander stiffens at the hostility in Adrian's voice as he marches over to us. Zoelle turns ashen. My breath locks in my chest as I watch Adrian's approach. His ire is little more than an unsettling current through our bond. For a moment, I am struck by his control and by my lack of it. I slip from my seat and shuffle forward to intercept him.
"Adrian, listen—"
He gives one firm shake of his head, stopping a few feet away. "You aren't going in the forest. I know what's out there." Adrian's jaw clenches and a tautness enters his dark eyes. He swallows thickly. "You're not going. Once Alekos forges our doorway home, we leave. All of us.” His dark eyes run over me in silent pleading. “No more fighting in this war, Luna.”
My hands ball up at my hips. "I can help, and besides, Alekos will need to go into the forest to find the right tree. Why can’t I?"
"Because it’s not safe. You're not going out there."
A noise curdles up from the back of my throat as I stomp my foot, and my wings give a rattled flutter behind me. I try to remind myself that Adrian wishes only to protect me, but his bullish attitude and mine cannot help but come to a head.
"You can’t stop me,” I tell him with deadly calm. “If I wish to help my family, I will. I won't abandon them in their time of need. This is not the way of the fae."
Adrian clenches his jaw and breathes through his nose as he holds my gaze. With a curse, he steps closer and ducks his head toward me. "Do you understand the full risk of what awaits you out there? Have they told you of the crimes committed along their precious borderline?" Adrian searches my eyes, and spying my ignorance, pushes on. "And what of us?" he asks, reaching out to take one of my hands. "Do not forget that in willfully endangering yourself, you do so to me as well,"—his voice lowers in earnest—"Have we not suffered enough? Risked enough?"
My heartbeat clambers against my ribs. I close my eyes. "Adrian, I cannot standby. Please, understand—"
Adrian drops my hand. His plea, which resonated deeply in our connection, fades to nothing.
"Luna won't be fighting," Zoelle interjects as Adrian arranges his face into a neutral mask. "She won’t be hurt."
Adrian holds her gaze. "I'll hold you personally responsible if she does."
His declaration brings a chill across my back, but Zoelle merely nods. "Agreed.”
Xander coughs lightly to disrupt the mounting tension in the room.
"Should you change your mind about helping,"—Adrian points a ferocious glare at Xander and storms from the room—"we would gladly accept," Xander finishes dryly.
The tea's effects evaporate with Adrian’s departure. I wince. I know I should give chase, but I wish not for another confrontation with my heart’s content. Not until I digest his words more fully.
I turn to the alphas, hiding my hurt behind a half-smile. "I'd like to see my friends today if that's all right?" Xander and Zoelle nod.
Chapter 15
Atticus and Winter's home is the perfect balance between the alpha's upscale residence and the Elder Triad's ever-bustling house.
"Behave," Ryatt teases with an easy grin and tired eyes as he pulls into the beta's driveway.
"I will," I agree, twin spots of red coloring the sides of my face. Ryatt waits for me to clear the radius of the car before reversing and driving away. A symphony of honks signifying his farewell.
The front door opens to reveal Winter. Her snowy white hair blows in front of her face as a gust of cold air barrels through the doorway. "Come inside!" She hollers gaily. "It's freezing out here."
I bow my head against the tempest and scurry inside. Winter closes the door behind me with a laugh as another gust propels my final step.
"I'm so happy you're here," Winter says with a hint of breathlessness to her voice as she helps me peel off my outwear. She takes my belongings and hangs them on one of the protruding hooks near the front door. "I've been sick with worry, and after seeing Keenan," she glances over her shoulder at me, the exuberance on her face lessening as sadness creeps into her eyes. "I wasn't sure what shape you'd be in, physically or mentally." She pauses and sweeps me into a hug. "How are you, Luna?"
I snuggle up into her embrace and mumble an incoherent response into her shoulder. Winter laughs and squeezes me tight before releasing me.
"Your hair is different," I comment with a smile, unable to tear my eyes away from the shining locks. Winter's eyes widen a fraction as she turns to face me. With a self-conscious air, she touches the curled tendrils.
"You're right. My hair is turning blonde. I think. Atticus said something about it yesterday too. We think it’s an aftereffect of the curse being removed from my pack." Winter's gray eyes seize me. "How are you?" she repeats. “I couldn’t hear your answer before.”
Voices brush the edge of my hearing. I cock my head in their direction and peer into the room behind Winter, ruining the connection she fights to keep. A jovial chuckle supersedes the other voices. Atticus.
"Luna?" Warm fingers graze the hand I’ve curled around the side of my neck. I startle back, surprised to feel her touch against my skin.
I laugh weakly. "I am not quite myself just yet," I confess. “But I’m finding my way back slowly,” I add softly, with confidence.
"No one expects you to be quite yourself after everything you’ve gone through." Kindness soaks her every word as she takes my hand and holds it between us. "I'm here for you. If you want to talk or anything else, okay? Come on." Winter tugs my hand and leads me through her home. "Your friends and Atticus have successfully chatted away the entire morning."
Winter guides me back into the kitchen. Atticus, Celosia, and Alekos are seated at a small round table when we enter.
"Luna!" Celosia beams with happiness. Her luminescent skin and calico eyes gleam with cheer. She jumps from her seat to embrace me. We almost topple over as Alekos joins our hug, his long arms wrapping around both of us. He glows too, in his own way. No longer is his skin hatched or brittle, but a healthy brown. Chair legs scrape the floor as Winter offers me a seat with a small chuckle.
Once seated, a bowl of steaming soup is placed in front of me. It smells divine, and my stomach rumbles in anticipation.
"Zoelle called ahead and said you haven't been eating much." Winter plops down in the last available seat, tucking her hair behind both ears as she settles in. "The chicken noodle soup should be light enough not to upset your stomach. I hope you like it."
“It is very good!” Alekos says brightly.
“Oh yes,” Celosia agrees readily. “The noodles were my favorite part.”
"Thank you," I murmur before digging in, ignoring the fact that all eyes are on me. A small noise of appreciation vibrates through me as I down the soup. It sounds again when I nudge the empty bowl away from me.
Winter smiles as Atticus takes my empty bowl and spoon to the sink. "How are things at Xander's?" He asks as he meanders back. "Is Jax doing well?"
"He is. He’s returning to his normal self, although there is only so much of himself to return to."
"I heard about his eye," Winter offers, her skin going ghastly white. "I can't imagine... how terrible."
Atticus places his hand over mine, the small act a balm to the ache I endure for my friend’s pain.
"How is the large man?” Celosia inquires. “We have been told he is in ‘transition.’”
"Deval is… well. He continues his transformation, but there is no certainty of his survival. What have you been told of his transition?”
Alekos screws up his mouth and spares Winter and Atticus a suspicious frown. “That it is comparable to a designer dog, whatever that is, and involves blood.”
“Oh yes,” Celosia agrees somberly. “Much blood.”
A wayward giggle escapes me at Alekos’ confession and Winter and Atticus’ flushed faces. The giggles soon turn to full blown laughter.
“Designer dogs,” I manage to gasp, settling my mirth to speak clearly, “they are ridiculous! Humans do not understand that a new animal cannot be designed. It is merely the copulation of different—”
“The point we were trying to make is that Deval is becoming something new!” Winter interrupts, her face aflame with embarrassment. “He will keep parts of his lycan nature and absorb characteristics of a vampyré, ergo, the blood bit.” Alekos and Celosia mask their amusement poorly. As do I.
“Perhaps, that is the explanation you should have given instead?” Alekos teases. Winter struggles to respond, before slumping back in her seat with a laugh.
“You’re right,” she admits. “That would have been the better explanation. I apologize for the confusion.”
A pleasant silence engulfs our group, broken by me seconds later as I continue to elaborate about Deval’s condition.
“The transition has been hard for Deval. The house often sounds the echoes of his pain, but I have hope he will survive. He is strong,” I tell my friends who listen intently. “It is also hard on the others of the house, the ones who saved us. Do you recall the women who drove us home?” Alekos and Celosia nod. “They must give Deval their blood to aid his transition, but because they are vampyrés they need blood too! I plan to give them some of my blood if I am able to.”
I don't miss the look passed between Atticus and Winter, lined as it is, in conflict across their brows and mouths when I make my last remark.
"Will either of you be donating?" I hesitate to ask. Both say yes with different inflections. Winter's response is defiant. Atticus is harried and frustrated. Alekos catches my eye.
"Atticus does not wish his wife to give blood," Alekos supplies readily. "They've been arguing about it since the other day."
A glimpse between the couple's flaming faces confirms Alekos's admission.
I flick my violet eyes back to Alekos. He sits at the edge of his seat, leaf-like wings butting into the chair's back. "Why?" I ask Alekos. Winter emits a squeak of indignation.
"Because she is human," Alekos answers without hesitation.
"And weak," Celosia adds with a sure bob of her head. Atticus makes a strangled noise at the back of his throat.
When all eyes of the room fall on him, he quickly defends himself. "Those words have never come out of my mouth!"
Celosia cocks her head. "Language is multifaceted. You may not have said them aloud, but your face and body betray you." Atticus's nose scrunches up in his frustration. After a moment, he exhales with force and directs a pleading pout at his wife.
"I don't think you're weak." Winter remains silent, her features blank as she waits for him to say more. "But you are human now, Winter, that changes things."
"Blood is blood, Atticus," Winter retorts. "Mine is just as good as yours, or anyone else. Besides, I won't be out fighting like the rest of you when the time comes. I can give without the burden of having to fight hanging over my head—"
"But you're offering too much, Winter." Atticus says earnestly. “Breaking the curses took a lot out of you. Don’t pretend like it didn’t. I feel it too.”
I swallow and sink back into my seat, attempting to become invisible. Atticus’s plea resonates deeply with Adrian’s earlier words. Watching the scene playout as a bystander is difficult to watch. I wonder if Atticus will storm out or Winter will bend.
I peek across the table. Alekos mimics my discomfort while Celosia unabashedly watches and awaits Winter's rebuttal—it doesn't come.
"I know you want to make up for what happened with Zoelle," Atticus continues, "but you're not going to set everything right over the span of two-weeks. You're running yourself to the point of exhaustion. If you keep giving and giving like this, there's going to be nothing left for you to give. Last week you were willing to die, Winter. If you won't put yourself first or set some boundaries, at least think of how your decisions affect me."
Winter's silence is booming after Atticus's plea though her eyes retain a glossy finish. Her silence lasts long enough that Atticus groans, his exasperation and defeat are a painful mixture contracting across his face.
"I'm not going to stop you," he concedes as he folds his arms over his chest. His frown remains. "That doesn't mean I have to like it, and I'd appreciate it if you acknowledged my points."
With those words said, Atticus rises from his seat and curls around the table to his wife's side. He drops a kiss on her head and whispers, "I love you." Then he departs.
"Is he right?" Celosia asks when the sound of his footsteps reach the stairs. Winter sighs.
"I don't know." Winter shrugs. "Maybe. Maybe not." She heaves another sigh as she meets my timid regard. "Yes, he’s right,” she says. “But I want to help—lycan or not—I'm still beta to the pack, even if they'd rather I not be part of it."
"It must be very strange to be one thing all your life and then not," Alekos muses.
Winter ducks her head. “It is,” she confirms. “Atticus thinks the reason I’m working so much is to regain favor with the pack. He’s partly right. I do wish to make amends, but that is not the only reason. Every second I'm not preoccupied with some task or job; I'm reminded of how alone I am without my wolf spirit. Atticus is already so concerned about me, I don't want to add this to his plate." She laughs weakly, the tension in her body releasing as she pins her gaze on the ceiling. "I'm trying not to go crazy, and if that means working myself to the point of exhaustion every day, I'll do it."
