The Moon That Remembered My Betrayal

Chapter One The first time Tamsin Vey noticed her shadow lying to her, she was elbow-deep in a barrel of dried yarrow and trying not to panic. It was the night before the Blood Moon. The back door of the healer's cottage stood open, letting in the evening breeze, and moonlight stretched her shadow across the floorboards. She reached for the twine on the shelf but her shadow followed a moment later. Tamsin stopped moving. For a second, nothing happened. Then her shadow finished reaching for the shelf before settling into place beneath her feet. She stared at the floor. "Nope," she muttered. "We're not doing that tonight." She crossed the room and shut the door, though, it was a ridiculous thing to do. Closing a door wouldn't stop the moon from shining, though she knew it, she still felt better with the moonlight gone. There were two hundred and eleven wolves in the Ashfall pack. By tomorrow evening, every one of them would gather in the old orchard to howl beneath the Blood Moon. Tamsin would also be there, wearing the green dress she'd borrowed from Mara and carrying a basket of salves for anyone who sustained injury during the shift. She'd spend the evening treating sore muscles, listening to the younger wolves complain about their aching joints, and pretending she wasn't waiting for something to happen to her. She was twenty-four years old, and had been a wolf since she was fourteen, yet, she had never felt special about it. Shifting came naturally to everyone around her. For Tamsin, it had always felt like something she was expected to do rather than something that belonged to her. She tied the last bundle of herbs and wiped her hands on her apron. There was no point to stand and worry about her shadow, since she had work to do. By the time she stepped outside, lanterns were already being hung along the orchard path. A pair of young wolves argued about where to place a keg, while someone farther down the path sang so badly that Tamsin suspected it was deliberate. She had barely made it three steps when a familiar voice sounded behind her. "You're doing it again." Tamsin didn't turn around but replied "Doing what?" "Walking like something is chasing you." She glanced over her shoulder. Idris Thorne moved few steps beside her, his hands buried in the pockets of a dark coat that had seen better days. Two buttons were missing, and there was a purple stain near the hem that looked like a plum jam. "Nothing is chasing me," she said. "Then why are you walking so fast?" "I'm busy." "You're going to an orchard." "There's a lot to do in an orchard." He gave her a sideways look. "You're counting exits, aren't you?" Tamsin said nothing. Idris laughed under his breath. "Thought so." He was thirty-one and had been the Alpha of Ashfall for nearly three years. He was broad-shouldered, with tired eyes that made him look older whenever he refuses to smile. Tamsin had known him long enough to notice the things other people don't notice. He rubbed the back of his neck when he was nervous, avoided difficult conversations by pretending to be busy, and always looked toward the nearest door when someone mentioned his father. She had never told him she'd noticed. "The Silverbrook delegation arrives tomorrow," he said. "At dusk. Forty wolves, including their Beta." Tamsin groaned. "Is it the one who sent back the soup last year?" "Yes." "Put him in cabin nine." Idris turned to her. "What's wrong with cabin nine?" "The roof leaks, when it rains." "Which is unfortunate, considering the weather forecast." He stared at her for a moment and shaked his head. "You're a terrible person, Tam." "I'm a healer, there's a difference." He laughed again, uncontrollably. That was the trouble with Idris. It wasn't his position as Alpha or the way he filled a room without trying. The way he remembered the herbs she hated their smell. The way he checked on the older wolves after a difficult shift and the way his face changes whenever he forgot, that everyone expected him to be in control. He doesn't laugh often. Tamsin had become shamefully interested in changing that. She knew there was something between them and also suspected half the pack knew it as well. Her grandmother had once mentioned it over dinner, and Tamsin had nearly choked on a mouthful of beans. Neither she nor Idris had ever admitted anything. Three weeks earlier, they had been alone in the herb store. Tamsin had reached for a jar on the top shelf, and Idris had stepped in behind her to help. When she turned, they were standing so close that she could feel the warmth of his body. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Idris stepped back. "Not yet," he'd said quietly. He hadn't explained what he meant because she didn't ask. She had spent the following twenty-one nights trying to decide whether the words had been a promise or a rejection. Some days, she thought she understood. On others, she wanted to shake him until he gave her a straight answer. They reached the orchard gate, the apple trees stood in neat rows beyond it, their branches heavy with the last fruit of the season. The sky was darkening, and a reddish glow lingered near the horizon. The Blood Moon wasn't full yet, but it was already larger than usual. Tamsin could see the faint red ring around its edge. The pressure began beneath her breastbon as she stopped walking and pressed a hand against her chest. It had been happening for weeks. At first, the sensation had been so faint that she could ignore it. Lately, it had become difficult to concentrate whenever the moon appeared. She had tried herbs, sleeping through it and even spent an entire afternoon convincing herself that she was coming down with a fever but nothing helped. "Tamsin?" She lowered her hand. Idris was watching her. "I'm fine." "I didn't ask if you were." "Your face did." He didn't smile. "You feel it again, don't you?" She looked away. "Every wolf feels the moon." "Not like this." "You don't know what I feel." "You're right. I don't." He paused. "But I've watched you stare at the sky for weeks. Something is wrong, and you keep pretending it isn't." She wanted to tell him but couldn't. She could have told him about the shadow, about the way it had moved when she hadn't, and about the growing pressure in her chest. Instead, she asked, "Why did you stop going to the north ridge?" Idris became quiet. It was a small change, but Tamsin noticed immediately. For two years, he had gone to the ridge every full moon. He always went alone and returned at dawn with leaves caught in his hair and dirt on his boots. Sometimes he would disappear for hours, avoiding the pack until he was ready to face everyone again. Then, around the time Tamsin's mother died, he stopped going. She had asked him about it once before. He'd changed the subject so quickly that she hadn't tried again. "Old knee," he said. Tamsin looked at him. "You don't have an old knee." "I have a developing knee." "That's not a thing." "It is if you're thirty-one." "You're making yourself sound ninety." He gave her a brief smile, but it disappeared almost immediately. His hand moved to the back of his neck. Tamsin knew that gesture. He had prepared an answer, and he was about to use it. "Tam, I'm not discussing the ridge tonight. Please don't ask me again." She studied him. There was something in his expression she couldn't understand. He looked tired, but that wasn't unusual. What bothered her was the way he refused to look straight to her eyes. She wanted to push him and also remind him that she had stood beside him through some of the worst days of his life and that he didn't have to shut her out every time something hurt. But the lanterns were swinging in the evening breeze, and voices were calling for the Alpha from inside the orchard. His hand rested on the gatepost beside hers. Their fingers were close enough to touch but he didn't move any nearer. "All right," she said. His shoulders relaxed slightly. "Thank you." She wasn't sure she meant it. Before either of them could say anything else, a young courier came running down the path. She wore the grey colours of Silverbrook and was breathing so hard that she had to stop before reaching them. A sealed letter was clutched in her hand. "Alpha Thorne," she said, holding it out. "This came for you. I was told it was urgent." Idris took the letter. Tamsin watched his expression change as he read the name on the front. The colour drained from his face, and for a moment he looked like someone who had just heard terrible news. "What is it?" she asked. He folded the letter and slipped it into his coat. "I have to go." "Idris" "I'm sorry, Tam. Go on without me." He walked away before she could ask another question. Tamsin stood at the gate, watching him disappear between the lanterns. She told herself it was nothing unusual. The Alpha had responsibilities. Important matters came up, and people expected him to deal with them though, she couldn't express the feeling that something had changed. Whatever was written in that letter, Idris hadn't wanted her to see it. She found his coat about an hour later. It had been left over the back of a chair in his study, probably after he had changed before heading to the council fire. Tamsin had come looking for the sewing kit she kept in the desk drawer, and the missing buttons caught her attention. She had offered to mend the coat three times. Idris had refused all the time, claiming it was wearable. Apparently, he had finally lost the argument with himself. Tamsin carried the coat to the desk and sat down. She found her sewing kit, selected a needle and thread, and began examining the torn seam. The letter slipped from the inside pocket and landed on the floor beside her chair. She picked it up and tried to put it back where she had found it before she noticed her name. Tamsin Vey. She frowned. The seal had already been broken, and the folded page had become loose. She should have returned it to the pocket because, it wasn't hers to read, and Idris had never given her a reason to doubt his trust. But someone had written her name on it. The girl's shadow has started to lag. Tamsin stopped breathing for a moment and read the sentence again. Then she continued. You swore to me it wouldn't, Idris. You swore she'd never be this close to the moon. If the Blood Moon finds her before the ninth night, everything we did that winter will have been for nothing, and you know what that costs. Burn this and tell her nothing. There was no name at the bottom of the letter. Only a small black symbol: a crescent moon crossed through on one side. Tamsin lowered the page. For several seconds, she remained calm, listening to the soft hiss of the lantern on Idris's desk. Outside, the first wolves had begun to howl. She looked down at the floorboards. Her shadow lay at her feet, dark and motionless. She shifted in her chair, watching carefully as the shape moved with her. Everything seemed normal as she lifted one hand. The shadow lifted its hand too. Tamsin lowered hers and it followed immediately. She stared at it for another moment before looking back at the letter. She had never told anyone about what had been happening. Not her grandmother. Not the other healers.