“Of course Sorrel won’t be a child-bearer right away,” Konrad said slowly, as if speaking to a clueless pup. “He needs time to mature.”

  He was saying all the right things. So why did they feel wrong?

  I felt the burn of everyone’s eyes on me. My fur prickled, and my skin grew hot with shame. If nobody else was incensed, then it made me look like I was overreacting. I looked like a fool.

  “It’s best for Sorrel to know now so he can prepare. I’m doing him a favor, aren’t I? Now he doesn’t need to waste his time learning skills like hunting or fighting. All he needs to do is take care of his body and grow.”

  My legs shook. I suddenly didn’t trust them to keep me upright anymore. My haunches collapsed, and I sat on the ground, dazed, as his honeyed words flowed over me. When he put it that way, it made sense... didn’t it? I wanted to believe him, but my stomach kept twisting.

  “It’s all right, Poppy,” Konrad soothed. His voice was oddly kind, but carried an undercurrent of pity. “I understand that your alpha’s plans might not make immediate sense. But trust me, please.” His eyes flashed with hurt. “Or have you lost faith in me?”

  Everyone’s stares turned cold and accusatory. Their gazes stabbed at me from all angles, silently prodding for an apology. The heavy ache in my chest twisted into physical pain. My body wouldn’t stop shaking. I felt sick.

  “N-no,” I managed. My voice was thin and choked.

  Konrad looked disappointed. “No? You have no faith in me anymore?”

  The crowd’s angry aura flared. Their collective sway felt like a hundred blows to the head.

  My body crumpled beneath their furious gazes. I crouched so low that my belly touched the ground. When I spoke, my breath came out in a whimper. “I do. I believe in you...”

  “I hope so,” Konrad replied, still sounding wounded. He raised his eyes to address the crowd. “Everything I do is for your sake.”

  My sake? I thought. He must mean everyone’s—the sake of the clan.

  Sorrel shouldered forward, leaving me grovelling on the ground. “I’m ready,” he announced. “I accept my duty assignment with pride.”

  The clan cheered, and Konrad’s eyes glittered with satisfaction.

  “Thank you, Sorrel,” the alpha said calmly. “You’ll be a fine addition to the ranks. In time, of course,” he added, shooting me a contemptuous look.

  When Konrad’s address was over, the crowd dispersed. Everyone hurried away from me like I was contagious. Only Rorik remained beside me, although he was clearly aware of the tension gripping the air.

  I couldn’t move. I just lay there and trembled on the ground. Ahead, too far for me to hear, Konrad spoke with Sorrel, who listened dutifully and wagged his tail.

  My younger brother had shoved right past me. Like I was nothing to him.

  “...okay? Poppy?”

  Rorik’s voice floated into my ringing ears. Still lying on the ground, I glanced up at him.

  “Are you all right?” the bear asked again.

  Summoning the air to speak was difficult, so I nodded. But even that felt like I was taking up too much space in the world.

  Rorik hesitated. He wasn’t the best with words either, and this was an uncomfortable situation. “Don’t worry. Konrad would never do anything bad to Sorrel.”

  I wanted to believe him. I really did. But the statement rolled off my back, meaningless. Right now, everything was meaningless.

  Rorik nudged the flat fur between my shoulders with his big nose. “You’re all right,” he stated. “The sooner you stand up, the faster everyone will forget about this.”

  He may as well have been speaking to a different person. I already knew I wouldn’t recover from this incident. It gutted me to the core. It rearranged things that couldn’t be fixed. Konrad’s public humiliation had fundamentally changed me.

  “Poppy, come on,” Rorik pushed, encouraging but firm.

  My voice came out in a frail whisper. “I can’t.”

  Rorik cared, but I could tell he was losing his patience. The longer he remained to comfort me, the worse my contagion would spread to him. He shouldn’t be seen with me.

  “I’m fine,” I managed. “Please, just go.”

  Rorik hesitated. He furrowed his brow sympathetically, but in the end, he turned and sauntered away. My newfound loneliness was a relief. At least now I couldn’t infect anyone else with my social exclusion.

  Konrad and Sorrel had finished speaking. My brother left the interaction beaming—his tail wagged as he bounced away. But then his gaze slid over me, and his expression fell. His ears flicked back and his lips drew tense. A coldness settled over his eyes. Distrustful.

  My heart shattered.

  9

  Viol

  I didn’t see Poppy for a week.

  The days dragged by. Once in a while, an oblivious animal crossed my path and became an easy meal. Other than eating and watching the clouds roll across the unfamiliar sky, I slept. In the seven days that passed, my injuries began to heal. The stiff aches and pains left my body until only my wings remained a problem. Soon I was strong enough to stand up and walk around without issue.

  One afternoon, I finally had enough dicking around. I stood and stretched with a content groan, then started exploring. I didn’t stray too far from my original spot in the snow, but Poppy had my scent memorized, anyway. I had faith he’d find me even if I went for a stroll.

  I walked in the direction he’d run off a week ago and climbed the slope. The hills here weren’t quite mountains like the ones back home, but they offered me a better vantage point than a flat field.

  As I wandered, my mind drifted to Poppy. I hoped he was okay. A lot of the things he said made me suspicious, but I didn’t understand why. It wasn’t that he was untrustworthy—I believed everything that came out of his sweet little mouth—but he was dodgy about answering certain questions, and acted like a ghost was about to pop out and scare the shit out of him at all times. He was a wolf. Wolves were supposed to be brave, noble, and strong. So, what was scaring my wolf?

  I shook my head and snorted. He wasn’t my wolf. The closest thing I had to a wolf of my own was Wolfy, tucked safely away in my satchel.

  A fluttering of wings caught my attention. I watched a snowy owl land gracefully in a shadowed crag. I grinned when I saw the nest full of eggs. Soon the owl would be coughing up half-digested lemmings for her babies.

  So gross. But so cute, I thought.

  I was grateful that dragonets were quick to eat real food. Not that I’d have to deal with that until I found my mate. My heart swirled excitedly at the idea. I wasn’t ready now, but one day.

  Smiling, I turned away, ready to continue up the slope, when I suddenly heard a choked sob.

  I froze.

  That voice didn’t belong to an owl.

  My gaze swivelled towards the owl’s nest. As my eyes adjusted to the shadows, I saw it—a large pale shape clustered in the furthest depths of the crag. As my brain made sense of it, my jaw dropped.

  “Poppy?” I blurted.

  He gasped, then silenced his crying.

  A strange panic washed over me. I padded closer, hurrying towards him, but I didn’t want to frighten the owl, either. I flattened my large body to the ground and tried not to look threatening.

  “Hey, uh, I don’t want to hurt you,” I mumbled, as if the bird could understand me. “I just want to see that... wolf behind your nest.”

  The words sounded deranged when I spoke them out loud. Thankfully, the owl didn’t seem to care. She blinked at me with yellow eyes, then settled peacefully on top of her eggs. They disappeared into her chest fluff and she fell asleep.

  I took her acceptance as an invitation to crawl closer. Careful not to bump her, I pushed my head into the crag. The crawlspace was too small for me, but Poppy had somehow squeezed all the way inside.

  His beautiful white fur was an unkempt mess. It was scruffy and smeared with dirt from the walls. It obviously hadn’t been groomed in days. He looked scrawnier than normal, with ribs poking out his sides, and his face was drawn and haggard. He looked terrified and exhausted.

  “Poppy?” I cried. “What the hell happened?”

  Tears streamed down Poppy’s cheeks. He hiccupped as he saw me, and his eyes widened in disbelief. “Violet...?”

  I didn’t know what to ask first. There was so much going on.

  “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” I demanded.

  He sniffled as he angled his ears towards the owl. “She’s... she’s such a good mother!” he bawled, voice breaking halfway through.

  I stared, agape and confused. I didn’t understand why he was crying.

  “Yeah, she is,” I agreed. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

  He nodded miserably. “It’s the best. It’s the best thing ever...” His forehead slumped against the hard ground. “I wish I was an owl...”

  I blinked in total confusion. He wasn’t making sense, but he was obviously suffering. It hurt to see him like this.

  “Poppy, come here,” I urged. “Let’s get you out of this crag. We can talk outside in the fresh air.”

  “I can’t,” he whimpered.

  “Why?”

  His voice snapped like a twig. “I can’t leave! I can’t go back. Please, don’t make me. Just leave me here. I promise I won’t cause any more trouble...”

  My stomach flipped. I’d never witnessed somebody in such raw despair. Whatever was bothering him, it was worse than I imagined. Something was deeply wrong.

  “Poppy, you’re safe with me,” I promised. “I won’t make you go back, but I won’t leave you here to rot.”

  He raised his head enough for me to see his tear-stained, bloodshot eyes. “I don’t want you to hate me, too...”

  I snorted, but inside, I worried he wouldn’t exit the crag. He was too scared to be dragged out by force. And if I did that, he’d lose all trust in me. He needed to make the choice on his own.

  “Why the hell would I hate you? Stop making shit up and come here,” I said gently. An idea popped into my mind. “Actually, I have a surprise. But I can only show it to you outside.”

  He lifted his head higher. “A surprise...?”

  I grinned. “I haven’t shown him to anybody except my family. You’ll be the first person in the world to meet him, okay?”

  Poppy hesitated. A curious light danced in his sorrowful eyes, but he didn’t leap to his paws. I didn’t think he could. His body seemed stiff from disuse, like he’d been motionless in this crag for days.

  What was he so afraid of? The outside world wasn’t scary. There were no predators around to harm him. The weather was beautiful, and the air was crisp and refreshing. It was much nicer on the open field than in the stuffy, dark pit.

  As my initial shock fizzled out, I grew puzzled. Poppy had his head on straight. He was too down-to-earth to overreact. He wouldn’t crawl into a hole for no reason.

  Then... what happened to him? Judging from his words, it was so awful he didn’t want to return home.

  Sinking fear dropped my stomach like a stone. Like how I felt in the midst of the storm, but far worse.

  “Poppy,” I called, soft and pleading. “Whatever happened, I’m here for you, okay? I’m not going to hurt you. You’re my friend.”

  Poppy inhaled in a sharp hiccup. He trembled as if about to burst into tears again. “Friend...?”

  “That’s right. You’re the first friend I’ve ever made who wasn’t related to me,” I added with a grin.

  Gaius interrupted my tale with an offended gasp and a stupid dramatic pout. “Oh, I’m wounded. What about me?”

  His sudden disturbance jolted me out of my memory trance.

  “Huh?” I barked.

  “We’re not related,” Gaius pointed out, still jutting out his lip like a fucking idiot. “You don’t consider us friends?”

  I gawked at him, then snarled, “That’s what you cut me off to say?”

  He laughed airily, waving his hands and sloshing his drink around. “Sorry! It was just a joke.”

  I felt cartoonish waves of anger sizzling above my head.

  “You’re not my friend,” I ground out through my teeth. “You’re part of the family.”

  Gaius was taken aback. His eyes widened in genuine surprise. “Really?”

  “Yeah, you’re like, our weird uncle,” I grumbled.

  His face lit up as he flashed a heartfelt, dazzlingly white smile. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Viol. I apologize for interrupting. Please continue.”

  Grinding my teeth, I muttered, “Where was I...”

  Poppy’s gaze wavered with emotion. His glistening tears caught the dim light of the crag, making his eyes shine like diamonds.

  “I... I’ve never made a friend outside my clan,” Poppy said weakly.

  His confidence built at a snail’s pace, but I was happy to see it at all. Any progress was better than nothing.

  “Well, now you have,” I stated. “And if you come out here, maybe you’ll make another.”

  His ears flicked forward inquisitively. “Who?” he asked, voice hoarse.

  I grinned. “Told you, it’s a surprise.”

  Poppy went still, weighing his options. With every passing second, anticipation squeezed my heart. I wanted Poppy to exit this hellhole more than anything. If he gave up now...

  No, I didn’t even want to think about it. I would get him out.

  “Do you trust me, Poppy?” I asked.

  Poppy stilled. His unkempt fur lay flat as he stared directly back at me. When he spoke, his words were barely above a whisper. “I... I think—no, I... I do.”

  My chest tingled.

  “I trust you, too,” I said. “The surprise I want to show you is really special to me. We dragons have something called ‘hoards’. It’s anything we feel intensely passionate about, and possessive over.” Pulling my satchel forward, I patted the leather siding. “A piece of my hoard is inside this bag. The one you found when I lost it. I don’t know what I would’ve done without it. So, I owe you, Poppy. Big time.”

  The tip of Poppy’s tail wagged. Seeing that lifted my heart and wrapped it with a fuzzy blanket. I didn’t know why I found that so adorable. Maybe it was his uninhibited animal honesty, unable to be stopped.

  He dropped his gaze to the dirt, but said, “I’ll... I’ll come out.”

  Excitement coursed through me. I nodded quickly, then backed out to give him space. A wave of relief crashed into me as Poppy emerged from beneath the overhang. In the sunlight, his fur was even dirtier, his sides scrawnier, and he reeked of unwashed dog and stale earth—but I didn’t care about any of that. I was elated beyond measure.

  Without thinking, I rushed forward to embrace him. He felt small and fragile against my chest. Breakable as a valuable porcelain doll walled up behind locked glass.

  An intense wave flowed in my veins, beating like the rhythm of my pulse. Suddenly, I didn’t want to release him. The feeling was childish, and selfish. If I let Poppy go, I wouldn’t be holding him anymore. He’d be out of my reach, like a doll inside a locked cabinet. I wouldn’t be able to protect him with my own claws.

  Poppy’s warm breath ghosted across my scaly chest. The core of his body was warm, too, despite the crag’s cool depths.

  The moment lingered. I didn’t want to stop, and he made no attempt to move. Then he coughed. I jumped to release him, hoping I hadn’t squeezed his frail chest by accident.

  “Sorry. I think I swallowed some dirt,” he croaked.

  A relieved chuckle escaped me. “I’ll say. Your fur’s practically brown,” I added, reaching over to pat his furry flank.

  He ducked his head shyly, then pulled away. “I’m sorry. I know I look and smell awful...”

  “I don’t care about that,” I said honestly.

  Poppy had already craned his neck over his back and frantically licked his flank. But a few mouthfuls later, he coughed again.

  “You need a real bath,” I said. “Where’s your—”

  I stopped myself. I’d nearly asked where his room was, but instinct told me that wasn’t the right way to handle it. For whatever reason, Poppy didn’t want to return home, so his room was out of the question.

  “Where’s the closest place you can wash?” I asked instead.

  Poppy glanced into the distance. “Um, there’s a river down there.”

  “Cool. Let’s go.”

  He seemed surprised, but reassured. “You’re coming with me? I was just going to wash and come back...”

  If I was honest, I’d admit I didn’t want him to leave my sight, but that sounded creepy. I tried to play it casual.

  “Four paws are better than two,” I said, waving my front claws. “Besides, I can warm up the water with my fire so you won’t freeze your balls off.”

  Poppy managed to smile at my joke. Then he led me to the river. Except he didn’t really lead. Every time we walked parallel to each other, he slowed to walk a step or two behind me. I didn’t notice it at first, but I caught on when he glimpsed at me from the corner of his eye, then suddenly halted to awkwardly lick his paw until I passed him.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Um.” He hesitated as if it was difficult to explain. “It’s not correct for me to walk ahead of you, or even beside you.”

  I felt like he was speaking a different language. I seriously didn’t understand a word out of his mouth.

  “Huh?”

  Poppy’s ears flicked back. “Omegas aren’t supposed to walk equally with alphas...”

  I barked out a laugh before I realized he was serious. My laughter cut short as Poppy watched me with a puzzled expression.

  “That’s fucking bullshit,” I declared. “Come here and walk next to me. Seriously, what a load of crap.”

  Poppy balked, but then put one paw in front of the other until he stood adjacent. He looked vaguely uncomfortable, like I’d asked him to walk a tightrope beside me instead of being squarely grounded.