The Wolfless Luna

Mallory

The lab lights were cold at midnight.

I watched the last drop of herbal extract slide into the narrow-necked bottle, the liquid settling into a beautiful amber. My lips curved upward before I could stop them.

Three weeks. That was how long it had taken me to perfect this post-match soothing tonic for Crowe.

It was designed specifically for muscle tearing and nerve fatigue after high-intensity combat bouts. Better than anything I'd ever brewed for him before.

Crowe.

Just saying his name inside my head made my pulse stutter.

Everyone at St. Lawrence Academy knew him.

He was tall, built, the kind of handsome that made girls from every division stare. And his wolf was just as beautiful—white fur, ice-blue eyes, claws that could end a match before the opponent even knew what hit them.

That made him the Combat Division's star. He'd just won three consecutive cross-division matches last week, every one of them a seamless dance between him and his wolf, leaving opponents with nowhere to run.

I always sat in the farthest corner of the stands to watch him.

No one noticed me there. No one elbowed me and whispered, What's a wolfless girl doing here, anyway?

Not that it would matter if they did. I was used to it. Or maybe I just didn't care anymore.

The students in the Healing Division who had wolves didn't need tonics as much. Their wolves helped them heal fast. But I was different. I still hadn't awakened my wolf, and in some twisted way, that had forced me to become better at herbalism than almost anyone else.

Professor Harrow had read my final research report from last semester aloud at the academy-wide assembly this year. Said my formulation approach was already ahead of most third-year students.

I'd earned more scholarships than I could count. Compared to those, the taunts meant nothing.

Besides, my herbalism had earned me something far more precious.

Six months ago, Crowe had come to me for the first time.

He'd heard Professor Harrow's lecture and found out I had a private lab. Said the Combat Division lounge was too loud, that he needed somewhere quiet to settle down after training.

I thought it would be a one-time thing. But he came back. A second time. A third. A twelfth.

He always sat in the chair beside my workbench, calming down or cleaning up scrapes.

"The people out there are exhausting." He meant the girls who followed him to every match and practice session. "Only here can I actually relax."

I kept my head down, pretending to focus on the bruise on the back of his hand.

But my heart skipped.

That was the first real compliment these ears—so used to mockery—had ever heard.

Over the last six months, he'd said a lot of things like that.

He said my tonics were the best he'd ever used. Said I was the least annoying person he knew.

Once, after a match, he came straight to me still smelling of combat. He sat down, closed his eyes, and let me feed him an entire bottle of calming draught. Then he just sat there in silence while I stayed beside him.

For an hour, neither of us spoke. We just listened to each other breathe.

I thought I meant something to him. Something special.

Tomorrow was the Winter Night Ball. And I had decided to stop hiding the way I felt.

Yes. I was going to confess to Crowe.

As the moon sank toward the horizon, I took a deep breath, tucked the freshly brewed tonic into my bag, and switched off the lab lights.

In the adjacent hall, someone had already strung up lights for tomorrow's dance. Colorful pinpricks of light spilled through the glass, painting the whole corridor in something out of a dream.

It was beautiful. The perfect atmosphere for a confession. The perfect setting for the answer I wanted.

I didn't know how Crowe would respond. But I had prepared everything—including a carefully written invitation card. If he said yes, I would ask him to share the first dance with me tomorrow night.

I had to try. That was the only way to know.

That was how the world worked. You didn't try, you never knew.

Just like tonight. I'd kept experimenting until I'd brewed the best tonic I'd ever made.

I hugged my bag and stepped out of the lab, rehearsing the words one more time in my head.

Hey, Crowe. I made a new tonic for you. Try it—I guarantee it's better than anything before. Oh, and about the ball tonight... do you have a partner? Because I'm alone, and I was wondering if you'd—

Stupid. Right?

I'd spent three weeks trying to come up with a version that sounded less stupid. This was the best I had.