Chapter 3

Rosie hadn't even waited a day.

By that afternoon, she'd set up a table at the Harvest Market under a painted banner: MOONLEAF, BY ROSALIE KERRIGAN. Anyone who stopped heard the same story. She'd kept the shop alive while I was away. She was finally getting the credit she deserved. The handover had been "so natural."

People ate it up at first. Congratulations. About time. We're so proud of you.

Then the pack healer stopped by. How many fever drops for a three-month-old pup? What was the willow bark doing in the blend?

Rosie had no idea.

The questions kept coming. The sleep tonic. The growers up in the north valley. The joint salve half the elders couldn't live without.

She couldn't answer a single one.

Then someone turned a jar toward the crowd. The label was in my handwriting.

By dark, half of Stonebrook had decided she was a fraud.

"She's passed out twice from crying," Silas said, his voice hard. "The market's open till midnight. You're fixing this tonight."

He pulled me off the bed by the arm. The walls lurched. I nearly went down.

He didn't even notice.

My mind slid backward. Four years ago, on the night of the full-moon run, all of Stonebrook had been watching Rosie's white wolf. Everyone always watched Rosie.

I'd stayed in the healers' tent, binding a pup's sprained paw.

A black wolf came in through the flap. He'd walked past every other wolf in that field to get to me, and he lay down at my feet.

"You've got the wrong twin," I told him. "Rosie's out front."

He shifted back and gave me a look, like I'd said something absurd.

"Your sister smells like whatever perfume she borrowed that day," he said. "You smell like crushed mint. I'd know you with my eyes closed."

Nobody had ever come looking for me before.

He said later that he'd seen through Rosie from the very first night. That she put on a show while I did the work. That I was the one worth finding.

"My wolf chose you," he told me. "Never her."

I believed every word.

Now he was hauling me out the door for her, and I could barely stay upright.

The man who said he'd know me with his eyes closed couldn't see me with them wide open.

"I'll fix it." The words came out on their own.

The tension went out of the room.

"Good." My mother's face eased a little. "When this blows over, maybe we can talk about a fresh start. As a family."

"You're making progress," my father said. "Keep it up and maybe this house can feel normal again."

Silas brushed Rosie's hair behind her ear. "She'll see it through. I'll make sure."

Already they were planning ahead. A future where I knew my place and kept quiet.

I didn't have a future.

The lanterns were still burning when we got to the market. A crowd had already gathered around Rosie's table.

"Go on," she said sweetly. "Tell them it was never really yours. That you made yourself sound bigger than you were. That I built Moonleaf."

I looked at the faces waiting for me. At my sister's damp cheeks. At my parents at the edge of the crowd. At Silas, arms crossed.

"Moonleaf was Rosie's," I said. "I helped out and let people think I'd done more. I'm sorry for the confusion."

"Thank you," Rosie said, squeezing my hand where everyone could see.

The whispers started before I'd even stepped back. They weren't about her anymore. They were about me.

My parents closed around Rosie, telling her it was over. Silas's hand settled on her shoulder.

Nobody so much as glanced my way.

On her way past, Rosie stopped and put her lips near my ear.

"You don't get to compete with me anymore," she whispered. "Mom, Dad, Silas—they're mine. You never deserved them."

I didn't answer.

She smiled the cold, pleased smile I'd known all my life.

"Oh, and Ivy?" Her head tipped to one side. "Three years in silver, and not one visitor. It must have been so lonely."

The smile widened.

"At least you always had something that smelled like home, right?"

She walked off before I could ask what she meant.