Chapter 4

Mira

Five days later, I stood before the gates of Dravenhall.

Eliya did not greet me in person. Instead, she had the steward escort me through a side entrance to a modest-sized apothecary.

I surveyed the room with a frown. The supplies were adequate in quantity, but precious herbs capable of treating severe illnesses were almost nonexistent.

"You're certain this is everything?" I asked the steward, suspicion lacing my voice.

"Yes, Miss Vaughn. The Alpha won't return to the estate until the day after tomorrow, so I can only follow the lady's instructions."

Looks like Eliya doesn't quite trust us yet, Seraphina muttered in my mind.

Patience, I soothed her. Trust isn't built from nothing. We need to prove ourselves.

I spent the afternoon categorizing the medicinal supplies and noting down the herbs that needed replenishing. I hadn't finished my inventory when the door burst open.

Two wolves in work clothes stumbled in, half-dragging, half-carrying a Beta between them whose face had gone ashen.

"Please... save him. He's dying."

His head lolled forward, feet dragging across the floor, boot tips carving two wet trails of blood. The sweet, cloying scent of blood hung thick in the air, underlaid by something far more sinister—the smell of rotting flesh and metal.

Silver bullet wound. My nose made the diagnosis faster than my eyes could. And in the Northern Lands, only one type of person used silver bullets: hunters. Hunters who specialized in killing werewolves.

It seemed Iron Claw's situation was more precarious than I'd imagined.

"Put him on the table," I said, keeping my voice steady.

I tore open the injured man's trouser leg. The fabric had fused with dried blood, and as I pulled it away, a strip of necrotic flesh came with it. Only then did I see that the edges of the wound had already blackened.

He's been shot for more than a day and a night, I realized with alarm.

I immediately opened my bundle and rifled through the remedies I'd brought with me. Before leaving my pack, I'd prepared some homemade hemostatic vine—enough to barely purge the silver toxin from one patient. If another critically injured wolf came through that door, I'd have nothing left to offer.

The thought flickered through my mind before I forcibly pushed it aside. For a healer, nothing mattered more than saving the patient in front of you.

I gritted my teeth and pulled out every last strand of hemostatic vine from my pack. I crushed them in a mortar, then mixed in other herbs and half a bottle of spirits.

"He's going to scream," I told the two Betas. "No matter what happens, hold him down."

They swallowed hard and nodded. Without hesitation, I pressed the herbal paste directly into the wound with my fingers.

The reaction was instantaneous. A wisp of white smoke rose from the wound, carrying the acrid stench of burning flesh. Good—the silver was being forced out of his tissue. I exhaled in relief.

But the most dangerous part wasn't over yet. Whether the silver poisoning could be fully purged depended on how deeply the paste penetrated. I adjusted my fingers and pressed the mixture deeper into the through-and-through wound.

As I worked, the injured man's pallor began to fade. I let out a long breath and bandaged the wound with gauze. Only after I'd finished did I straighten up and realize my back was soaked through with cold sweat.

"Change the dressing every three days," I said, my voice hoarse. "Don't let it get wet for seven days. If he develops a fever, come find me immediately."

They thanked me profusely and carried him away.

I stood alone in the empty treatment room, staring down at the instrument table. On its surface lay a pool of gray-black residue from the purged silver and a puddle of dark red blood.

The supplies are gone, Seraphina said, her voice worried. What are you going to use next time a critically injured patient shows up?

"I suspect that was Eliya's test," I said, wiping my still-trembling fingers clean. "It's my first day here, and a critically wounded man just happens to arrive at my door? That's no coincidence."

"Once I pass the test, I believe Eliya will send fresh supplies."

I spoke with confidence, though my fingertips unconsciously rubbed the empty vial.

The entire afternoon passed without another patient—or any word from Eliya. Perhaps that single test hadn't been enough... but my supplies wouldn't hold out much longer. I irritably pushed a strand of hair behind my ear.

Just as my patience began to fray, I heard the steward's knock at the door.

"Miss Vaughn, the lady has sent something for you."

Inside the delivery were five fresh stalks of hemostatic vine, a bundle of clove flowers, two bottles of spirits, a roll of clean gauze—and a copper key.

The key to the estate's main apothecary.

I smiled and tucked it safely against my chest.

That evening, I walked through the south wing corridor on my way back to my room. Sunset poured through the arched window at the far end, staining the stone floor the color of amber. Everything was eerily quiet.

Then, without warning, a scent hit me—familiar.

My footsteps halted.

Seraphina arched her back, ears standing straight, a low whine rolling from her throat. "It's him. He came back early."

I nodded, my heart leaping into my throat. Why had he returned ahead of schedule? Had he resolved his business outside the estate early? Or... did he already know I was here?

I sniffed the air again carefully. It was indeed Aiden's scent, but not quite the same. That night, his scent had been scorching, seductive—dizzying hormones that invaded my senses and made my legs weak, made me want to melt into him completely.

But now, his scent was cold. It smelled of pine needles, snow, and rust. This wasn't the scent of an Alpha in heat. It belonged to a clear-headed, rational Aiden who had locked all his instincts behind iron bars.

Still, if I focused, I could detect a faint trace of heat beneath the surface—the lingering echo of his rut. An Alpha's heat cycle typically didn't last long, which meant some powerful stimulus had kept the remnants of it clinging to him.

At that thought, my steps faltered. Desire and dread surged through my blood in equal measure.

"So? Are we moving up the seduction plan?" Seraphina asked, wagging her tail inside me.

I shook my head, uncertain. That one night had cost me considerable courage and luck. A stranger's boldness might occasionally catch the cold Alpha off guard, but my luck wouldn't hold forever.

Besides, I needed time to figure things out. I needed to decide what expression to wear when I faced him next, what tone to use, how close to stand.

More importantly, I needed to understand why—if the Moon Goddess had blessed my union with Kellen—my wolf and Aiden's were drawn to each other. So intensely.

So I took a deep breath and headed straight back to my assigned room.

"Miss Vaughn."

Someone called my name from behind. Every hair on my body stood on end.

"Wh—what is it?"

"The Alpha asked me to inform you," the old steward said, pausing as if surprised by my wariness, "that the war in the Northern Lands is ongoing. Tomorrow morning's strategic meeting will include arrangements for medical treatment, so your attendance is required."

My heartbeat skipped. Butterflies took flight in my stomach.

He knew I was here.