Chapter 5 Embers Of Trust

My ribs ache where the pup presses, their feet drumming a relentless rhythm against my bladder. Six months along now. Six months since Kael's hands shoved me into the snow. The Nightclaw wolves still eye me like I'm a thorn in their paw, but Mara doesn't.

The healer's hut smells of chamomile and decay, herbs dangling from the ceiling like hanged men. Mara hums as she grinds juniper berries, her silver hair frizzing in the steam from her cauldron. She's the only one who doesn't flinch at my scars.

"Sit," she orders, pointing to a stool. "Let's hear the troublemaker."

I hoist myself onto the seat, wincing. Mara presses her ear to my stomach, her hands rough but warm.

"Hmm. Strong heartbeat. Bossy, like you." She smirks, her front tooth chipped from a fight she won't describe. "But you're too thin. Jarek not feeding you?"

"Jarek's not my keeper."

Mara snorts. "Tell *him* that."

As if summoned, the hut's curtain flings open. Jarek looms in the doorway, snow dusting his shoulders. His amber eyes dart to my belly, then my face. "You're supposed to be resting."

"I'm *supposed* to be earning my place." I grab a mortar, crushing yarrow leaves harder than necessary.

He steps inside, crowding the cramped space. "Riva's got you hauling water buckets. That's not earning-it's punishment."

Mara slams her pestle down. "Out. My hut, my rules."

Jarek glares but retreats. Mara mutters, "Stubborn fool," and hands me a honeyed root. "Eat. For the pup."

I chew in silence, watching Jarek through the crack in the curtain. He sharpens his axe by the firepit, shoulders tense. Always watching. Always *there*.

***

Later, hauling water from the spring, I stagger on the icy path. The buckets slosh, threatening to spill.

A hand steadies me.

"Let me." Jarek grabs the yoke.

"I've got it." I yank back, but he doesn't budge.

"You'll fall."

"So?" My voice cracks. "You don't get to care."

He freezes. For a heartbeat, his mask slips-something raw flickers in his gaze. Then it's gone. "I care about the pup," he says flatly.

The words shouldn't wound me. But they do.

I release the buckets. "Take them, then. Since you're so *concerned*."

He hesitates. "Lyra-"

"Don't." I trudge back to the den, ignoring the cramp in my side.

***

Mara finds me scrubbing bloodstains from hunting tunics. My hands are raw, the soap scum pink.

"Stop." She tugs me up. "You'll scrub your skin off."

"Riva said-"

"Riva's a bitter old crow." Mara drags me to her hut, forces tea into my hands. "Drink. It's nettle-good for the blood."

The brew is bitter, but I sip it. "Why are you helping me?"

She rummages through dried herbs. "Had a daughter once. She'd be your age."

"What happened?"

Mara's hands still. "Rogues."

The fire pops. I stare at my tea. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Made me a better healer." She tosses me a salve. "For your hands."

The ointment smells of lavender. Kael hated lavender-said it reeked of humans. But Jarek's scent is all wilderness, no flowers.

*Stop.* I dig my nails into my palms. *He's not your mate.*

***

That night, a nightmare claws me awake-*Kael's sneer, the stranger's breath hot on my neck.* I bolt upright, gasping.

Jarek stands in the alcove entrance, a shadow. "You cried out."

"Go away."

He doesn't. Instead, he crouches, his heat cutting the chill. "Talk to me."

"Why?" I snap. "So you can mock me? Use it against me later?"

His jaw tightens. "You think I'm him."

"Aren't all men the same?"

The words hang, poison in the air.

Jarek stands abruptly. "No."

He leaves. Guilt curdles in my gut.

***

At dawn, Mara examines me again. "The pup's breech," she says, kneading my stomach. "Need to turn them."

Panic spikes. "Will it hurt?"

"Yes." She smears a minty paste on my belly. "Bite this."

I clamp my teeth on leather as her hands press hard. White-hot pain. I scream.

The alcove curtain rips open. Jarek lunges in, dagger drawn. "What are you-?"

"Out!" Mara barks.

He ignores her, gripping my hand. His palm is calloused, warm. "Breathe," he growls.

I do. Slowly. His thumb brushes my knuckles, a whisper of comfort.

When it's over, the pup squirms properly. Mara nods, satisfied. Jarek releases me like I've burned him.

"Thank you," I whisper.

He hesitates. "You're not him either."

The alcove feels emptier when he's gone.