Chapter 1

Chapter 1 FLORA I dreamed about the rats again. In the dream, Alpha Nathan locked me in that room, the one with no windows. He hit me until I couldn't stand, and then the rats came, crawling over the floor, climbing up my legs, biting into my skin. I could still feel their claws even after I woke up, my whole body shaking, sweat cold on my neck. I sat up fast, my heart slamming against my chest. "Nightmare again?" Daisy asked. She was already sitting beside me, her hand smoothing back my hair. Her hands were rough from years of grinding herbs and stitching wounds gotten by the injured soldiers, but her touch was always soft when it came to me, like a warm soothing feeling after being burned. Daisy found me back when I was still trapped under Nathan. She saw what he did to me, how helpless I was to fight back. She saw that I was a Soother, and she saw that he hated me for it. Most Alphas would have protected a gift like mine, knowing how rare and valued it was. Nathan just found new ways to break it, getting some sort of sick pleasure from it. Something about hurting a thing that should have been treasured made him feel powerful. Daisy risked her life to get me out. She hid me in the back of a supply cart under old blankets, and I barely breathed the whole way, terrified every bump in the road meant we'd been caught. I still dreamed about that ride sometimes too. Not just the room. I dreamed of what he did to me personally, the whips, the burn, the pain, and humiliation as he stripped me of my dignity over and over again, in the privacy of his chambers or worse, the maids quarters. "Yes," I said. My voice came out shaky. "But it's fine. I'm alright now." She didn't believe me. I could tell by the way her mouth pressed into a thin line, showing her disapproval at my insistence to brush away my pain like it was inconvenient. "You need to rest today," she said. "I'll go to the send-off in your place." That was when I remembered. The warriors were riding out to battle today. I ate a small breakfast, hugged Daisy, and told her I was fine. Then I got dressed and walked to the warriors' quarter anyway. Soothers like me and Daisy existed because the world had changed. The Lunar Goddess used to keep every wolf's mind steady, calm, in control. But she was fading now, weaker every year, and without her, warriors started losing control of their wolves. Panic Disorder, they called it. A warrior's heart could give out mid-battle. His mind could break apart from the inside, and there was no coming back from that. Soothing was the only thing that kept them alive long enough to fight, and long enough to come home. You'd think that would earn us some respect. It didn't. If I stayed home, Daisy would have to cover the entire camp alone, running from tent to tent, stretched so thin she'd collapse by nightfall. That wasn't fair to her. So I went, even with my nightmare still clinging to my skin like smoke I couldn't wash off. The walk to camp was the part I dreaded most, worse than the work itself. I passed a cluster of warriors sharpening blades near the fence, and one of them nudged another, nodding toward me without lowering his voice. "There goes one of the leeches," he muttered. Not even quiet about it. "Wonder how much extra food she eats for doing nothing but humming at people." The other one laughed. Low, ugly. I kept my eyes forward and my steps steady. I'd heard worse. I'd heard it almost every day since I got here. Leech. Parasite. Dead weight in a pack that only valued teeth and claws. Nobody seemed to remember that six out of ten of them would be dead without someone like me. They only remembered that I didn't carry a sword, didn't bleed on the front line, didn't earn my place the way they thought a place should be earned. I used to cry about it. Now I just walked faster. It wasn't the insults that made my jaw tighten hardest, though. It was the thought of seeing him. Gamma Eric. The man who thought Soothers were a waste of space, who said it louder and crueler than anyone else because he had the rank to get away with it. The man who never missed a chance to remind me that my gift meant nothing to him. If the warriors near the fence were leeches-behind-my-back people, Eric was a leech-to-my-face person. He didn't bother lowering his voice for anyone. I told myself I wouldn't let him ruin my day. I told myself that a lot, actually. I was getting good at lying to myself. By the time I reached the warriors' quarter, the camp was already loud with movement. Men strapping on armor, checking blades, calling out last orders before they rode. Somewhere near the center, a young fighter sat alone on an overturned crate, and even from a distance I could see his hands trembling against his knees. I knew that shake. I'd seen it enough times to know exactly what it meant. I crossed the camp toward him, ignoring the stares that followed me the whole way, the whispers that didn't even try to hide themselves. Some pack members turned their backs when I passed. Others just watched me like I was something they'd scrape off a boot. I knelt in front of the young fighter anyway. His name was Tobias, I remembered, barely eighteen, new to the front lines. His breath came fast and shallow, his pupils blown wide, his whole body wound tight like a rope about to snap. "Hey," I said softly, laying my hands over his. "Look at me. Just breathe with me, okay?" He nodded, jerky, desperate, like I was the only solid thing in a world tipping sideways. That was the part nobody understood. In this moment, right here, I wasn't a leech. I was the only thing standing between this boy and a heart that might not survive the hour. Then I heard footsteps behind me, unhurried, deliberate, and a voice I would know anywhere cut through the quiet like a blade drawn from its sheath. "Well, well," Eric said. "Look what the camp dragged in." My hands went still on Tobias's shoulders, and my whole body braced itself for whatever was coming next.