The Luna of Four: Marked by Four

Chapter3

Lyra’s POV

I wake to the smell of fresh bread.

For a second, I can pretend that last night didn’t happen. That I wasn’t pursued in the woods by hunters, that I didn’t shift for the first time in my entire life and that no paper was slipped under my door.

I sit up from the bed, and a sharp pain hits from my shoulder, reminding me that none of that was a figment of my imagination.

The door opens without warning and my head jerks in that direction. Dorian saunters in. “Peace offering.” He has a tray balanced on one hand and a grin that looks uncertain on his face.

“Tea and bread,” he murmurs. “I stole the honey from Killian’s shelf, so if I die today, promise me you’ll cry at my funeral.”

I stare at him blankly.

“Too soon?”

“Crying is a sign of weakness.”

It looks like he is about saying something in response to that, but his lips doesn’t move as he places the tray on the bed in front of me. His eyes flicks to the floorboards in front of the hearth, right where I lay huddled for most parts of the night, staring at the note like it has clues to all the question popping up in my head.

“Were you able to get some sleep?”

“Yeah,” I sigh, still uncertain how I should relate to him. With Killian, I know he is brash, broody and commanding. But Dorian…Dorian isn’t all of that. Yet, I feel the need to stay glued to his side, to listen to him talk all day even though I know nothing about his quirky jokes.

And he brought me breakfast, which is something I don’t think Killian can ever do.

So why…

This is all so confusing.

“Does that hurt?” Dorian asks as I shift closer to the tray, wincing slightly from the pressure on the wound.

I shake my head. “I’ve been through worse.”

“Killian wants you to be seen by Riven.”

“Who is that?”

“The pack’s healer.”

I shake my head. “Well, you can tell your Alpha that I don’t do well with orders. The wound will heal itself. It is supposed to, right? I shifted.”

“It’s different when it is wolfsbane.” He pours tea into the mug and pushes it into my hands. I feel much better the minute the warmth hits. “Riven’s the best we’ve got around. And he isn’t like Killian.”

I arch a brow.

“He asks before he touches.”

That should be nerve relaxing. Yet, it does the exact opposite.

“Eat,” Dorian mutters, getting on his feet. “We are leaving in ten minutes.”

He gives me time to wash up and change into a dress I find in the closet. It is frilly and too girly, having lived in the woods more than half my life. But it is the only thing I can find that perfectly suits me.

And it brings a scowl to my face.

The pack’s clinic isn’t a distance from the guest house, so we arrive in to time. My shoulders already feel better by the time we walk in through the doors and every part of me is prepared to inform the wiry old healer that he doesn’t need to bother about me.

But when Riven strides out of one of the rooms, the complaints die on my tongue.

Riven is not what I expected.

He is taller than Dorian, and leaner than Killian. His shirt sleeves are rolled, giving me an unhealthy view of his forearms, browned by the sun and lined with pale scars. When he looks up, his green eyes rake through my core, and for a brief moment, I forget to breathe.

“Lyra,” he says, stopping in front of me. “I’m Riven.” He looks at my shoulder. “May I?”

If Riven is as shaken as I am, he does a great job at not showing it. He doesn’t move an inch as he waits for a response.

I nod.

He leads me into a room and I give Dorian one look before the door closes. “Sit on the bed, please,” he says, gesturing to a padded table. I ignore his choice of words and climb onto it, watching as he unzips my dress slowly, just enough to reveal my bare shoulder.

The injured one.

But then, the expression on his face wavers when he angles his head and moves closer to the wound. I wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls away from me at once and walks towards the door, leaving me along in the room.

I look around the plain walls, and my eyes scan the window. I wonder what will go wrong if I decide to push the glass open and jump out. Will the hunters be waiting for me at the edge of the pack? Am I even safe in here?

Riven returns a minute later, but this time, he is followed by Dorian. I cannot place my hand on it, but something about my wound seems to have put them on edge.

I try to look at it too, but Riven stops me. “Are you sure you were hit by wolfsbane?”

I shake my head slowly. “I just felt a sharp pain. It was blinding and didn’t go even if I already shifted. At least, I felt it till this morning.”

He steps away. And so does Dorian.

“Did anything happen during the night?” He questions. “Something of significance.”

I think of the note I saw, the ashes certainly dissolved into nothingness after I left it in the fire to burn. I doubt that is what Riven means by his question, so I shake my head.

“Why?”

“Your wolf shouldn’t be able to heal any wound caused by wolfsbane,” he explains. “In fact, it should cripple your wolf and render your body useless. It is the reason it is one of the deadliest poisons to our kind.”

I expect a but there.

Riven takes a look at my shoulder again, the confusion now evident in his eyes.

“Riven…”

“You don’t have anything on your shoulder, Lyra. Not even the slightest trace of a wound.”

“We have to tell Killian.”