The Storeroom Key

The bonfire threw sparks over the clearing. Warriors laughed around racks of roasted meat, celebrating another victory over the rogues. I stood at the edge of the light with blood drying on my tunic and the taste of it still in my mouth. After twelve hours in the medical tent, there was little left in me. I had closed wounds with my own life force until my hands would not stop shaking. I came outside for air and to see my mate. Caleb stood beside the fire with Elara tucked against his chest. The Moonstone hung around her neck. Its light shone against her pale skin. Caleb's arm rested around her waist. From where I stood, they looked like the Alpha and Luna at their own victory feast. No one near them questioned it. Every Luna of the Silver Moon Pack had worn that stone for generations. It carried the Goddess's light and strengthened the woman beside the Alpha. On the night of our mating ceremony, Caleb had pressed his mouth to my ear and promised it to me. The stone marked the Luna's rank, but it also returned power whenever the pack wards drew too much from her. After the last twelve hours, those channels in me were nearly bare. “When the next full moon crests, this will be yours, Aria. A symbol of our bond, for all to see.” That moon had passed. The stone stayed locked away. Now its silver light rested against Elara's throat where everyone could see it. Caleb finally noticed me. His eyes paused on the blood covering my clothes. “Did you reinforce the southern barrier?” No question about the blood. No question about the twelve hours I had spent keeping his warriors alive. His gaze moved toward the southern tree line. He was waiting for my report. I wiped my mouth with the back of my wrist and found another dark smear. The blood on my clothes belonged to the warriors. Only the bite inside my cheek was mine. Elara pressed closer to him. “Caleb, I'm cold.” He pulled his cloak around her shoulders. “Don't stare at her with such jealousy, Aria. It's unbecoming.” My nails cut into my palms. “She needed it,” he said. “Her spirit is weak after the attack. The stone's energy is calming her. You don't need it.” I had held back the poison fog while Caleb fought at the front. One hour with the Moonstone would have restored enough magic to stop the ache in my bones. Caleb had watched it restore me before. Without it, every healing drew from my life force. Elara shifted, and the Moonstone answered her with another soft pulse. My hands shook harder. “You're strong enough to bear it.” Then he turned away. Elara laughed at whatever he whispered to her, and the mark on my neck burned under my collar. Those words had excused everything for years. He missed our anniversaries when Elara woke from nightmares and dismissed my counsel whenever it interfered with her comfort. I was always strong enough to understand. I had sat through dinners gone cold. My council seat stayed empty whenever Elara wanted him beside her. The next morning, Caleb would find me in the medical tent and speak as though nothing had happened. Whenever Caleb wanted me to go without, he called me strong. I opened my hands. Four fresh crescent cuts marked each palm. Caleb did not look back. I left the bonfire and passed the den we shared. My path ran toward the edge of pack land, away from our door. For five years, Caleb had used my magic as part of his defenses. Every barrier on this land was still drawing from me. Once I left, it would have to stand without me. Behind me, the feast went on. No footsteps followed. By morning, Caleb would look for me in the medical tent, ready to hand me the next wounded warrior or excuse Elara's next demand.