THE ALPHA’S ANTIDOTE

Chapter 8: The Tea

Mira's POV

I did not run.

I told myself it was because the window of my room was barred, which was true. I told myself it was because Tessa had posted a guard at the end of the corridor, which was also true. But when the first gray light crept through the glass and I sat on the edge of the cot with Julian's warning still burning on my wrist, the real reason was simpler.

Ember would not let me go.

We stay, she said, every time I reached for the thought of leaving.

He told me to run.

He told you to run because he is afraid. Her voice was steady. Of what, I do not know. But a wolf that frightened does not give good advice.

I did not argue. I had no answer.

I did not tell Rowan about the corridor, either. Not that morning, when Brenna escorted me to his room under Tessa's watchful eye, and not at noon, when I drew another vial of his blood and watched it bloom a clean, pale violet. Somebody had been in that hallway. Somebody had opened a door and listened. Until I knew who, I would keep my brother's whisper close to my chest.

By evening, Rowan looked like a different man.

The gray had gone from his skin. His eyes were sharper, his voice stronger, and he had managed to stand by the window with one hand braced against the glass and watch the sun sink behind the pines. He wore a dark shirt open at the throat and trousers instead of a hospital gown, and I caught myself looking at the line of his shoulders for longer than a healer should.

"You are staring," said Rowan, without turning.

"I am assessing your posture."

"Is it adequate?"

"It is infuriatingly good for a man who nearly died two days ago."

The corner of his mouth lifted. He turned, leaning against the sill, and the amber eyes found mine. "Two days of your food and your water. I begin to believe you."

"You should believe the blood. It does not lie."

"No." His gaze held a moment longer. "It does not."

Something warm and uneasy moved between us. I looked down at my notepad and pretended to write.

The knock came a moment later.

It was soft, three taps, polite and unhurried. Rowan's face changed instantly, as if a curtain had been drawn across it, and he straightened.

"Come in."

The door opened, and a woman stepped inside with a tray.

I had expected someone beautiful. I had not expected someone so quiet.

She was tall and slender, with dark honey hair braided and pinned at the nape of her neck, and a long white dress that moved like water. Her eyes were the pale gray of early morning, her skin warm and flawless, her mouth soft and slightly parted, as though she were holding back tears. She carried a silver tray with a china teapot, two small cups, and a dish of honey, and she moved across the room without a single sound.

"Rowan," she breathed.

Selene.

I knew the name. I had heard it in the clinic, in the whispers of the nurses, and from Pia's mouth the day before. The Alpha's betrothed. The future Luna of Blackthorn. In seven days, the wife of the man whose pulse I had been counting all day.

She set the tray on the table and crossed to him in three quick steps, and took his face in both of her hands.

"You are standing," she whispered. "You are really standing."

"I am well enough."

"You frightened me so badly. When Tessa said you were gone, I did not sleep for four nights." Her voice broke. "I thought I would lose you."

"I am here."

"I know." She pressed her forehead to his chest and held him, and the sight of it went through me like a splinter. "I know. I know."

Rowan did not push her away. But I saw his hand rise and settle, stiffly, between her shoulder blades, and I saw the way his jaw tightened.

Then she lifted her head and looked at me over his shoulder.

For a heartbeat, her expression did not change. It was still soft, still wet-eyed and tender. But something moved behind it, a flicker as swift as a minnow in dark water.

"You must be Mira," she said.

"I am."

"I have heard so much about you." She released Rowan and crossed the room, hands outstretched. I took them before I could stop myself, because refusing would have been rude, and because her fingers were warm. "Thank you. Thank you for saving him. I do not know what I would have done."

"I only did what any healer would."

"No." She shook her head, and her braid swayed. "Not any healer. Not after what they said about you. I want you to know that I never believed it." Her gray eyes searched my face. "There is something very familiar about you. Have we met?"

"I do not think so."

"Strange." She tilted her head, and the small, curious gesture brushed a nerve I could not name. "I feel as though I have known you for years."

I smiled politely, and Ember growled.

Careful, she said.

Of what?

I do not know.

Selene released my hands and returned to the table. "Forgive me. I should not keep him standing. It is time for his tea." She lifted the pot, and a faint, sweet steam curled into the air. "I make it myself every evening. My mother's recipe. Chamomile and honey and a little lavender. It is the only thing that helps him sleep."

She poured the first cup. The liquid was pale gold, clear and perfectly ordinary. She stirred in a spoonful of honey and held it out, and I felt my stomach drop.

"Rowan," I said.

He looked at me. "I need to test that first." The room went still.

Selene's hand froze in the air. A pink flush climbed her cheeks, and her eyes filled again, slow and shining. "Test it?"

"It is a precaution." I kept my voice level. "The Alpha is under treatment. He is eating only what I have prepared."

"I know. Tessa told me. But Mira..." Her voice caught. "It is just tea. I have brought him this every night for years." "Which is why I must be certain."

"You think that I would hurt him?" She looked at Rowan, and the full weight of that wounded gaze landed on him. "Rowan, you cannot think that."

"No one thinks that," he said quietly.

"Then why is she looking at me like that?"

"Selene."

"I am only trying to take care of you." A tear spilled over and slid down her cheek. "I am only trying to do the one thing I can do."

Tessa had appeared in the doorway, and Brenna beside her. Everyone was watching Rowan. I could see the war on his face, the pull between his reason and her tears. The Alpha who trusted no one, and the woman who had stood by him for years.

He drew a slow breath and took the cup from her hand.

"Rowan, no," I said.

"I will not insult her." His eyes met mine, level and steady. "One sip. Then you may test the rest, as much as you like. But I will not have my betrothed treated like an enemy in my own home."

"It is not safe."

"Mira." His voice softened. "Trust me."

I should have grabbed the cup. I should have knocked it out of his hand. But he said it so gently, and some foolish, aching part of me wanted so badly to trust him back, that for one breath I hesitated.

It was the longest breath of my life.

He lifted the cup to his lips and drank.

The color drained from his face before he lowered it.

The cup slipped from his fingers and shattered on the floor, spraying pale gold across the stone. Rowan's hand flew to his chest.

His eyes went wide and unfocused, and a terrible, thin sound tore out of his throat.

Selene screamed.

And the Alpha of Blackthorn fell.