Page 8 of Beast and Remedy (The Last of the Heirs #2)

I peel back the branches and come to a clearing of trees, remembering the area from this morning.

The wind billows and loose waves drift along my vision as I remove my frock, shivering from the chill. I wage war in my mind as I peel off my gown, nestling it into my cloak and tucking my tresses behind my ears before lowering to the cold, damp dirt.

My teeth chatter as I lift my head to the full moon, sighing at the other aspect affecting my magic.

Full moons in the autumn months keep me as a beast for three days. And the new moon in the winter month does the same. And every fortnight in the spring and summer, when the waxing and waning moons light the night skies, I am trapped as a bear overnight.

I study the pale moon, attempting to clear my thoughts and brace for the pain.

I’ve never sought out a shift, only dealt with it when the surge of energy rippled through me, shattering me. All to fulfill a role I hadn’t thought I’d inherit.

We had always been taught our magic would be different from our predecessor. And here I lie now, an anomaly.

Constantly, I wonder why I couldn’t share these abilities with my twin and if, somehow, what we’ve been told our entire lives isn’t the truth.

And if we are being lied to, is it of the Maker’s doing?

The silence of Haliver Woods engulfs me despite my racing thoughts and heart. I try to ignite the beacon of power, the urge of protectiveness—the rage I fight to keep in.

A prickling along my skin forces me to halt.

Tremors seize control, and my mind is all I have as I fight through this. But my pulse thrums in my ears, a drum banging as the suspension builds of what bones will break first.

Tendons stretch, turmoil increasing the shakiness clinging to my limbs. I struggle to remain upright as pressure bears down, the phantom pain growing as if to prepare me.

But I’m terrified —

CRACK!

In a flash, I arch back. Small twinges of pressure interlace with spasms spreading through my muscles.

POP!

I shriek as my body contorts of its own volition, and I shudder through strained gasps with my broken ankle and dislodged shoulder.

The magic injects into my nerves, my head buzzing and my vision blurry.

I clench my jaw, my throat closing from air I’m incapable of breathing. Another whoosh of energy thrashes, overwhelms me, pulsing as fissures writhe in my bones.

No. No. Please, No.

I clutch my chest, teetering on the precipice of ruination as another scream surges up. “Please stop!” I choke out in a plea on my hands and knees.

Power and its tether rip away, and I fall to my side.

My bones adjust as air returns, and I take a long, sharp inhale before shivering through involuntary tears. Clasping my throat, I check my pulse, grateful for the hundreds of medicinal ledgers I’ve read.

It wasn’t a full shift, Vi.

It’s okay.

You’re okay .

Saliva runs down my chin as my pulse evens out, and I repeat those words in my mind. After a while, I start counting each breath and gather my knees to my chest, warming my core as I lay in my most vulnerable state. Alone with nature and defeat.

Why couldn’t I be stronger against the pain? After seven years, I should have built a tolerance to it.

And better yet, why can’t I move on and not worry about the wolf?

It could be a short-term reaction. Though ingesting different ingredients could be harmful to it, other animals, and humans, too.

But what if it wasn’t?

I puff wisps of hair out of my face, closing my eyes and sighing.

No. No. Surely, I am overthinking.

“But what if you’re not?” a gentle voice whispers, and I jolt upright.

I blink a few times, scanning my surroundings for a trace of movement or sound. Cautiously, I call out, “H-Hello? Who’s there?”

Silence .

I keep listening, looking, and pause at a faint orange shimmer.

Tilting my head, I try to discern if it is my own imagination. Yet, the longer I stare, the more I think it’s real.

It twinkles, and I rear back.

No. It’s nothing. Surely, my mind is playing tricks on me.

I dismiss the imaginary voice.

Reading a book right about now would be the real dream.

You are pathetic, Vi.

I drag myself upright, pulling on my clothing before trudging through the woods to return to my rooms. As I enter, Marian sits up, eyes alert and wide with concern.

“Well?” she asks as I tug my cloak and boots off.

But I drop my head, letting the disarray of my mahogany waves conceal my shame. “No luck.”

A half-truth.

Sweet Makers, I can’t even admit my own failures aloud.

Marian’s stare follows me as I step into my bathing chambers to slip into a night garment, eager to forget this awful day.

Maybe my exhaustion and not being alone tonight will provide a deep sleep, too.

I can only wish.

As I gather the sheets opposite Marian, she offers, “It’ll be okay, Vi. We can both go look in the woods tomorrow.”

The wolf might be too far gone for either of us to track. But while her words are meant to be encouraging, they send my shame deeper into my jailing thoughts.

I nestle down into the feather-filled pillow. “Tomorrow,” I agree, hating that I am venturing into the forest yet again.

I shift to my side, facing her.

“Some name day, huh?” Marian jokes.

I snort. “Some name day indeed.”

Marian settles as I gather my arms around my pillow, clutching it close.

It could be worse, Vi.

But it would never be worse than that day seven years ago.

My dark thoughts chase me in the quiet.

Shifting. Mama’s death.

Him .

An injured wolf wandering the woods and a voice I surely imagined.

But that faint orange shimmer reminded me so much of…