26. Small Things

A wife, a mate, and a Luna were completely different titles, even if they coincided—rarely, too. Both Alphas and Lunas were crowned almost every two decades, as an Alpha reigned an average of thirty years if the pack accepted him, retiring when their heir—the Beta—came of age and took on the title. If they found their soulmate already, she was crowned the new Luna; if not, it wasn’t long until the new Alpha was simply married off to a female of stature. 
Until they found their soulmate, in which the Luna would know that their married partner would never care for them the way they would their soulmate—who could not take the ruling title.
“This is a lot to take in, I imagine,” Taos said, the deepness of his voice not matching the cheerful tone. They walked back at a leisurely pace that Sona both appreciated to give her time to process and hated for the very same reason. What made it more difficult was that Taos adjusted his stride to hers so he could keep his hand at the small of her back—which she hated, but…also appreciated.
*What changed? Why do I feel unsure around him all of a sudden?* 
“An understatement,” she told him.
He laughed once. “You have to admit, Grayhide grinding his teeth to breaking is quite amusing.”
Sona found herself fighting a smile. “Almost…satisfying.”
“That’s the spirit. Gamma,” he called, “arrange a marriage, will you? Top priority.”
—
A week passed. A lot of things changed—small things, Sona thanked for every day. Small things that become routine unnervingly fast and easy. 
Like learning to sleep alone in the inn while Arden was treated as well as any of Taos or Cerise’s concubines. In the morning she would be treated to fresh meat after bathing and having her hair braided in a Redbone style. At first she’d resisted, but once she realized she’d been wearing Moonvalley fashion, she understood that she had no reason to keep something she no longer had an attachment to. 
Taos would retrieve her minutes after dressing into the outfit much more modest than the single bolt of silk—a red silk top wrapped around her chest and criss-crossed over her shoulders, thus baring her torso, trousers cinched at the waist and ankles but otherwise loose and flowy. She had to wear the armband, but she was still allowed to wear her other jewelry. 
Except Conri’s.
The day after their confrontation, Taos took her to his dining room and stood in front of the fireplace. Wordlessly he gestured to the crackling fire.
Sona’s hand went to her throat where the gray ribbon rested. The fabric was frayed and worn. She believed that the strength of their soulmate bond was what held it together. 
“I don’t love him anymore,” she told Taos. She said it aloud to make it more real and convince herself of the truth. His neutral expression didn’t shift. No satisfaction, no sympathy. “But fire doesn’t seem fitting.”
“What does?”
“Shredding.”
Sona yanked the choker off with one clean snap. The two ends were feathered with small fibers, which she started to peel apart, unraveling them until the ribbon was unrecognizable as a symbol of love.
When she looked up, Taos’ expression still hadn’t changed, but she did see the imperceptible knitting of his heavy brows. Then he asked, “And the ring?”
Sona slipped it off her finger and tossed it into the fire with a clang and the hiss and flare of angry flames. “Gold,” she said, “is forged from heat. So can it be unforged.”
When he retrieved her each morning, they went to the healer’s shop, which had been dusted, rearranged, and stocked to her liking. Taos claimed himself more than happy to excuse himself from whatever Alpha duties Sona assumed he had in favor of offering his assistance. She threatened to task him with menial duties not fit for a king, but he only smiled and bowed, “I am but yours, healer.”
Her heart skipped at that. *I’m only yours*. It was an intimate sentence, a promise. Then she shook her head and ordered him to turn the abandoned building connected to the shop into a communal resting room where all the infected could eat and sleep.
“Fresh food,” she said pointedly after Taos gave the command to Gamma Edom, whose severe face soured to be bossed around by her. He made his hate for the intruder very clear. But Sona really couldn't give a shit, because she was doing what she did best, and would certainly capitalize on Taos’ willingness to do everything she asked. “And clean bedding every other day. And plenty of water! And—”
“Understood,” Edom barked, the deepness of his voice making the glass jars of herbs rattle. When he noticed his Alpha’s narrowed look, he scowled and stormed out.
She returned to drying more herbs. “Who knew Redbone was so emotional,” she noted.
Taos laughed. He was always within five feet of her, and she had to repeatedly tell him to back off. But when they were in the shop and she had no immediate patients, she found herself lowering her guard until Taos spoke, and his honeyed breath was caressing her neck. Every time this happened, his hand was always hovering at the base of her spine. 
Even on her seventh day in Redtown, she still felt untethered in life. But when Taos’ fingers brushed her bare back…it grounded her. Reminded her that she was helping save lives—hers, Arden’s, Raff’s, and her grandfather’s included.
So she forced away the guilt at her own hypocrisy of Taos’ famed bloody history and let him keep her from drifting.
Days consisted of wolves of all ages ushered to her door by Epsilon or other family members. Most were those poisoned by wolfsbane; others simply needed medical assistance—an expectant mother with lower back pain or an adolescent seeking to ease a throbbing headache. 
They all glared at her, the first foreigner most had ever seen, and they pinned her with prejudice just as she’d done. Most refused to be treated until they saw that the wolf before them was healed. Sona smiled and spoke kindly, walking them through each step she took and every tool or herb she used to ease their suspicions. It took time and effort, but as the days wore on and news of her skills was proven trustworthy—as much as they could be, not wanting to give her too much credit—more wolves trickled in with their ailments. 
Taos gave her the cutoff time of visits at sunset. He brought every medicinal book Redbone owned for her to research how to cure wolfsbane. In the five days, two dozen infected wolves of varying ages filled the shared space on the other side of a door in her shop. Only two elders passed away.
Wolfsbane was deadly. Ingested, the wolf wouldn’t survive longer than a week. If touched, it burned the skin. Sona concentrated on that first. Heal the burns and make them able to function, then work on preventative measures.
Sona sketched what the flower looked like on several pieces of paper, which Edom and his Epsilon posted around Redtown as a warning. This, at least, the Gamma was willing to do—search for the source. She came to think that in his mind, if the reason Sona was brought in was eliminated and resolved, maybe she would be no use anymore and leave.
On the seventh day, sunset was minutes away, and Sona started to tidy up. Taos was leaning on a table against the wall. Even like that, his presence filled the room. Such was the power of an Alpha. He’d been quiet most of the day, unnervingly so, and barely teased her. For hours she tried to focus on her patients, but she found her mind—and eyes—drifting toward him. 
Now that they were alone, she felt him acutely. She tried to ignore it, but the silence was too loud. She turned and crossed her arms. “How did you manage to keep so quiet today?”
Taos smirked. “Are you asking me to talk more? Because I can talk your ear off. Any topics you’d like me to rant about?”
“Just tell me why. Today you…” Sona lowered her arms. “Something *made* you quiet.”
“A spiritual healer, too, aren’t you?” 
“I try to heal all wounds, physical, mental, and emotional. I can sense when someone is in pain.”
His smile snapped off and he straightened. “You think I’m in *pain*?”
As Taos stalked closer to her, Sona saw a mask lock into place on his face. “You are defensive now. I think so, yes. One of the patients today—”
“Who says it was today?” he asked cryptically, now looming over her. 
She backed up until the back of her thighs bumped into her herb table. He hadn’t gotten this close to her face since the border fiasco. And he was shirtless again as usual, wearing his clinking bone jewelry, smelling like honey soap and fur. Ever since the bathhouse, he no longer reeked of blood and unwashed body. Ever since Arden called the deer skull, he’d been modest in the adornment of the morbid fashion.
She wondered why.
Not that she was complaining.
He was so close that the sound of his steady heartbeat and breathing was all she could hear. His skin radiated warmth. His hunter’s eyes were almost entirely black in the low lighting. Sona stared into them. Since she’d met him, it seemed he could read her mind—or just guess based on her inability to control her facial expressions—and so she wondered if she could do the same.
“One of the patient’s ailments,” she whispered. “One of them triggered—”
“Have you told him yet?”
Sona blinked. “What?”
“Your short-term lover. That you’re to be my wife.”
She narrowed her eyes, ignoring the jolt of her heart. *Right. I’m supposed to marry you next week*. “Don’t change the subject.”
“We haven’t talked about the details yet.” Taos’ gaze was roaming her body, and she knew he was perversely enjoying the close-up view. 
“Look at me or I will bite you,” she hissed.
“Ooh,” he purred, obliging her order immediately. “Where?”
She scowled. “Never mind.”
Taos tilted his head, his hand at his side brushing his knuckles to hers. She stubbornly remained still. “You’re welcome to bite me anywhere, trinket, before, during, or after the ceremony. You won’t be fucking Grayhide anytime soon and clearly, you do not see Roshan as a romantic option. Maybe...”
To Sona’s horror, Taos twisted his hips ever so slightly, just barely enough for her gaze to flick down. He always wore his trouser waistline slung extremely low, which was an unfortunate distraction these past few days whether she liked it to be or not. What she found at this moment was his hard—
She looked up at his face and grit her teeth. “Get your cock away from me.”
“How you are able to resist my *charm*, trinket,” Taos sighed dramatically, stepping back a step, “is beyond my comprehension. Doesn’t this turn you on?”
 “I’ve told you several times that your Redbone charm conflicts with a Goldwater’s attractions,” she told him formally. “We like subtly.”
“Subtly,” he repeated as if learning the word just now. “I can do that. If Redbone attraction is shown by—”
Sona nearly choked when pieces clicked together. “Wait. Is *this* your way of—”
Taos ran his tongue over his sharpened teeth. “Of flirting with you, Mistress Mai? Yes.”