Putting the Pieces Together

*Hezzlie*

Dinner is as boring and menacing as always. Not only is the queen glaring at me, like she does every night, but now Aiden is, too. Most of the time, he just completely ignores me, but tonight he seems to think it’s better that I am aware of his existence–and that he hates me.
“I heard you went for a run today,” the queen says between bites of nearly raw salmon. “Tell me, what did you discover?”
At first, I think she might be talking to Aiden, but then I realize he probably goes for a run every day, so someone has actually reported to my stepmother that I ventured out into the woods. “Oh, uh, nothing much,” I stammer. “My wolf just wanted to stretch her legs.”
“Really?” she pushes. “Because my understanding is that you were running along the fence line.” Her stare becomes even more icy. “As if you were looking for a means to escape.”
The rest of the table is silent, but I let out a cackle that sounds like it comes from a true witch. “Where would I even go?” I ask.
My father clears his throat. “I’m sure that’s not the case, dear,” he says to his wife. “Hezzlie is perfectly content here, aren’t you? You’ve even made a… friend.” He inclines his head toward Abby, who smiles, until her father grunts.
“I’m working on it,” I say, not wanting to throw Abby under the bus. “I don’t know how to get back to my mother’s house, and I know it’s far away, so I wouldn’t even try. Believe me, my Queen, I have no intentions of trying to escape.”
The queen looks at me for a long moment before she turns her attention to someone else. “How was your card game last night, Alexandra?”
The attention switches to the other woman, and I am happy for the reprieve. I attempt to give my father a grateful smile, but he’s speaking to Zeb, so there’s no opportunity to do so. He was likely just trying to keep his wife from losing her shit and not actually trying to help me anyway.
I stare at Zeb a beat too long, looking at that jagged scar on his face. When his eyes flicker my direction, a cold bolt slinks down my spine. I turn away, looking down at my own plate. It’s best if I just don’t make eye contact with anyone.
After dinner, Abby catches up to me in the hallway. We have learned it’s best if her father doesn’t know she’s walking me back to my room. I’m not sure why he doesn’t want his daughter to associate with the princess, but I guess it’s because I’m an outsider.
“Sorry about the queen,” Abby says with a chuckle. “At least the king bailed you out.”
“Yeah, that was nice of him,” I say, though I’m not sure I believe it. “Abby, do you think you could come into my room for a moment?” I whisper. “I have something I need to ask you about.”
She looks up and down the hallway quickly before she finally nods. “Okay, but we’ll have to make it quick. Father won’t like it if he knows I’ve gone into your room.”
I thank her, and we hurry to my room where we shut the door, and I take a deep breath. “I guess I don’t have time to ease into this question, but I need to ask you about something without giving you any context. I hope you’ll just answer me the best you can.”
She looks at me with wide eyes, confused, before she nods. “I’ll try.”
“Thank you.” I clear my throat. “Is there any significance to a wolf shifter biting someone else during sex?”
Her forehead scrunches up, and she blinks a few times. “Wh-what?”
I’ve asked her something so stupid she can’t even make any sense of it, and yet, I’m compelled to try again. “Like… does it leave a mark, or something? A permanent scar?”
“Are you talking about the mate mark?” she asks me.
I shrug. “I have no idea. I’m just wondering if biting someone during sex means something.”
She nods. “Yes, Hezzlie. Goddess, you really don’t know anything about us, do you? That’s a shame. Stupid Moonstrykers should’ve told you more.” She is mumbling to herself at first, then she says, “The quick version is that the Moon Goddess chooses who we are meant to be with. She tells us that by nudging our wolves.”
“Right–mates. I know that much,” I assure her. “But what about the bite?”
“When a couple of fated mates have sex for the first time, they’re meant to bite one another. It doesn't hurt much, at least, that’s what I’ve been told. I haven’t found my mate yet. Anyway, it leaves a mark on the other person, and it lasts for life. It’s called a mate’s mark, and whenever the person isn’t with their mate, it hurts. A lot. In fact, it hurts even to their very soul, or so I’m told.”
Now, it’s my turn to stare wide-eyed. I wander over to my bed and sink down on the edge. I intended to ask her this question to gain some clarity about my brother, but I’ve opened a can of worms so big, the entire world is now crawling with worms.
“Hezzlie? Are you all right?” Abby follows me over to the bed and stands in front of me.
“I’m fine.” I’ve been practicing deceit so much lately, it comes naturally. I manage to smile at her. “Just thinking.”
She’s not convinced, but she nods. “Okay. What brought that up?”
I can’t tell her the truth, so I say, “I saw a guard with a mark on his neck while I was running.”
“A guard? In his human form? Goddess, I hope the king doesn’t find out. He’ll be in huge trouble.”
I’m not intending to get my make-believe guard in any trouble. “I think his shift was over, and he was getting dressed to go back inside.”
She goes on about how that’s not okay either, but I’m no longer listening.
Like I am at some level most of the time, I’m thinking about Rowan. Not somewhere deep in my soul but with my whole mind, my whole heart. I marked him–and he’s in pain because of it. No wonder he didn’t want me facing him while we had sex. How did he keep from marking me? I want to feel my own neck for the impression of his teeth, but I don’t.
Abby swears under her breath. “I have to go. My father’s in the mind-link shouting at me to get to my room.”
“Okay.” It’s just as well that she leaves. I have a lot to sort through. “Thanks for your help.”
“Sure thing. See you tomorrow.” She leaves, closing the door behind me, and I fall back onto the bed.
I marked my mate. Now he’s in pain. I can’t get to him because he gave me away.
What a fucking fantastic life I live!
“Well, it’s your own damn fault!” I find myself telling a Rowan who isn’t here and can’t hear me. Unless… I could check on him through the mind-link.
He doesn’t want to hear from me, though. He didn’t choose to be my mate, and he sure the hell didn’t choose for me to mark him.
I should’ve asked Abby if there’s anything that can be done to reverse this. Can the mark ever heal? Can a person decide they don’t want that mate any more? I have no idea, and she’s gone, so I can’t ask her. I still haven’t tried to mind-link with anyone in my father’s pack, and Abby isn’t even a part of my father’s pack. Turns out her father is an ambassador from a different pack. So I doubt I can mind-link with her at all.
I don’t want to try. What if I accidentally start talking to Rowan again?
I lay there for a long time remembering what it felt to have him buried so deep inside of me. I miss his scent, the feel of his skin.
I am a fucking moron. He is not missing me. Though, if what Abby said is true, he probably does have a small ache in his bite mark from me.
Eventually, my mind goes back to the reason I asked Abby about the mark to begin with. It wasn’t Rowan I was asking for. It was Aiden.
I think about everything I’ve learned since I got here. How my brother was so upset when I arrived–but not just because he didn’t want a sister. He was missing Mara.
Mara. The princess. Rowan’s sister.
Abby said that some people thought Aiden and Mara were mates. Could that be true? Was the mark on my brother’s back from her?
“Holy shit, “ I mutter. If Mara marked Aiden, and he did the same, then Mara’s got to be in pretty bad shape right now, too.
I need to talk to someone at Moonstryker Mansion, but I don’t have anyone’s phone number, and I can’t use the mind-link.
Another thought occurs to me. I pull out my phone and dial.
After a few seconds, Mom answers. “Hezzlie, baby? Are you okay?”
I can hear the tension in her voice. It’s there every time I speak to her. She’s constantly on edge, like she’s afraid something terrible is about to happen to me.
“I’m fine, Mama,” I assure her. I hear her breathe a sigh of relief.
I am obligated to make some small talk with her. If I jump right into my reason for calling her, she’ll know that something is bothering me, and I don’t want to worry her on my account. She’s already on the verge of having a panic attack over me most days.
Eventually, I wind my way around to the reason I called her. “I need a contact from you, Mom.”
“A what?” She is obviously confused.
I should’ve known better than to word it that way. My mom has never pretended to be very techy, but then, when your cell phone dies every five minutes, you can’t really be too into technology.
“You have a phone number I need,” I tell her. “I need you to share it with me.”
“Oh, okay. Is that hard?” She sounds slightly less worried now.
“Nope. It’s super easy.” I walk her through the steps, dodging the questions about why I need the number from her, why I don’t already have it, and then I tell her my phone is about to die, which she understands, and tell her I love her.
Then, I hang up, and dial a number I never thought I’d be calling.