Reflected

by Rhiannon Held

  Craig shifted a little more quickly, but his emotions had probably been boiling up all morning, just waiting for an outlet. He was much heavier than Sacramento in wolf. In human, her challenging attitude, clothes, and hairstyle made her stature less important, but in wolf her smaller size stood out. She made enough noise to make up for it, snarling and snapping at the air, lips pulled far back from her teeth.

  Craig didn’t bother to growl. He gathered himself and went straight for her. Sacramento danced neatly out of range of the snap of his teeth. Craig seemed to have expected as much, however, as he just lunged at her again. Lunge and dodge, lunge and dodge.

  Portland lifted her hands to her mouth, one in a fist, first knuckle against her teeth, the other clasped around it. She’d blanked her face, but Felicia could imagine what was going through her mind—she was probably urging Sacramento on, as the more likely of the two to get badly hurt, as if a concerted effort of thinking would transfer some of Portland’s strength to the other woman.

  Silver glowered, weight forward like she longed to throw herself between the combatants to stop the challenge. In Spain, the same as here, everyone watched challenge fights in human to remind them not to interfere, but Felicia had never seen the point of that before now. Interfering was something you just didn’t do, but she could tell Silver longed to.

  As the fight dragged on, Felicia noticed that Craig never extended himself very far. He was saving his energy, not blundering all out after his more nimble opponent. Maybe Craig would win after all. That didn’t seem right, but then again, who was on the right side of this argument? Craig had been rude to Sacramento, yes, but his alpha and Sacramento had both been thoughtless about how their chase would affect him. But maybe Craig had been thoughtless in whatever had brought them to Silver, Felicia didn’t know. It all seemed like a stupid reason to fight.

  Sacramento dodged in the wrong direction and Craig’s teeth ripped into her shoulder, releasing a gush of blood to mat the fur of her leg before it healed. She gave a canine shriek at the surprise rather than the severity of the wound, and Portland’s next breath sounded more like a sob.

  Felicia imagined herself standing there, in Portland’s place. What if Tom had challenged Enrique, when she’d danced with him right under his nose? She stole another quick glance at Portland. She imagined her face would have looked similar.

  The shoulder wound healed quickly, but it still disturbed Sacramento’s rhythm and seemed to drag at her energy. She stumbled and Craig got her down on her side. Portland choked down a curse. Sacramento squirmed away, momentarily recovering her earlier speed, but she was flagging, and he was just plain bigger, heavier, stronger. Enrique wasn’t big by the standards of someone like Craig or John, off with her father right now, but that wasn’t the point. He only had to be heavier and stronger than Tom if they fought, and Tom was so rangy in wolf.

  An idea was taking hold of Felicia, as much as she tried to push it away. It was all Silver’s fault for making her even consider it. She couldn’t interfere, she couldn’t, yet she had to do something. And if it looked like an accident, who would ever know? The combatants would have to stop if they knocked into a bystander. She rocked slightly on her feet as she watched the rhythm of the fight. Close to the end now, with more stumbles from Sacramento, and another rake of Craig’s teeth over her leg.

  There. Felicia saw her moment, and she moved around the side of the room as if looking for a better vantage point just as Craig body-slammed Sacramento straight for the wall. Sacramento smashed into Felicia on the way there, and everything was suddenly pain and fuzziness.

  The wall. She’d hit the back of her head on the wall and slid down it, Felicia realized a breath later. The weight on her eased as Sacramento rolled off over her legs, and Craig’s next bite came right for her face instead of Sacramento’s flank.

  Felicia yanked her head to the side and Craig tried to change his angle, but his teeth still grazed her cheek, cutting a line of pain. Warmth splashed over her jaw and shoulder. It stopped a moment later, but facial wounds always bled enthusiastically before they healed. The warmth faded quickly to the chill of wetness all down her shirt.

  Craig changed back first, while Sacramento was still scrambling to her feet, panting. “Lady!” He stayed kneeling and swiped his thumb through the blood on Felicia’s cheek to check the skin underneath, his expression creased with concern that surprised her, especially with how naturally it sat on his usually dour features.

  Felicia pushed his hand away. “I’m fine. Bad timing.” That was true too. She’d expected to get knocked over, not slammed into the wall head-first. And bitten.

  Craig pushed to his feet. “Probably light-headed from how much you stink, girl.” Felicia never would have expected an apology from him, but at least he seemed mostly exasperated rather than angry. Thank the Lady. She wanted to get up and flee the scene as soon as possible, but she definitely was light-headed now. Better not to get up when a concussion was healing.

  “Idiot,” Sacramento snapped after she shifted back. She rolled her shoulder several times, testing the muscles in human. She sounded angrier than Felicia had expected. “Lady-dark European idiot. Is that how they taught you to behave at fights in Spain? Now the challenge is invalid.”

  “And for good reason. Enough, both of you.” Silver caught the combatants’ gazes in turn and held each until their heads dropped. “Portland, one of my people will take Sacramento where she needs to go.” The combatants gave each other a last poisonous look and then started collecting their clothes. Silver pointed to someone in the crowd, deputizing him to take Sacramento to the airport, Felicia assumed.

  Sacramento pulled on her clothes and jammed on her shoes the more quickly of the two and disappeared with her ride. Craig wasn’t far behind, but his phone chimed, interrupting him with his second shoe in his hand. Tom’s beeped a few moments later. That one Felicia was familiar enough with to identify the sound as a text message.

  What now? Felicia wished everyone would leave so she could pick herself up in peace. Fear was trying to sneak tendrils into her thoughts. They wanted to kick her out for being an evil European, as Enrique had said. Felicia squashed the fear. Sacramento had been tossing around “European” as an insult without thinking, same as many North American Were did, that was all.

  At least the rest of the pack had slipped away, probably assuming she was in for a chewing out once the text messages had been resolved and the guests were gone. That seemed pretty likely to Felicia too, unfortunately.

  Craig finished reading and glared at his screen, so Tom was the one who spoke first. “Roanoke—”

  “I did not intend this any more than Michelle did.” Craig tipped his phone to Portland. “Though maybe it’s only fair.”

  “The patrol at the airport. Someone else to talk to you—well, to Portland, actually.” Tom glanced from one player in the drama to another, wincing. Felicia waited for him to give a name, then realized he wasn’t bothering because Silver wouldn’t recognize it anyway.

  Silver’s lips thinned to bloodless white. “And based on past experience, better to have Roanoke as the mediator,” she snapped. She pointed into the living room. “Go. Wait somewhere else. Tom will make you comfortable.”

  Portland leaned close to her beta as they exited. “Who?” she growled, very soft.

  “Someone else who can’t give advice without showing up,” Craig said and clenched his jaw against any further words. Felicia had no doubt Portland would keep at him, but intervening walls muffled anything further from her.

  Peace, finally. Except for Silver’s steady, disquieting gaze on her where she was still slumped against the wall. Felicia’s head felt safe, so she pulled herself up using the windowsill farther on and checked the wall and carpet for blood. Her shirt seemed to have sopped it up, fortunately.

  “You’re a mess,” Silver said, after watching her climb to her feet. She came over and frowned at Felicia’s cheek. After Craig’s wipe, it was probably one big
smear. Silver carefully smoothed her hair aside and Felicia leaned forward slightly to give her better access. Maybe Silver was trying for the silent, disapproving kindness Felicia’s father often used to such great effect. Felicia certainly had to swallow an apology. She felt like apologizing for being clumsy was admitting she had been—which she hadn’t!—but she didn’t want to admit her real reasons either. Lady, she’d actually interfered with a challenge fight. On purpose.

  Silver licked away the blood, starting at her hairline and then over her cheek. Felicia drew a shuddering breath. Maybe she should have objected to Silver using a gesture better suited to a child, but she appreciated the sentiment.

  Guilt bubbled up about other reasons she didn’t deserve Silver’s sympathy, but Felicia ruthlessly squashed it again. She’d been tricked by Enrique, but she was going to fix that. Once that was taken care of, the lies would have been harmless ones. Anyway, Silver was her father’s mate, and people always kept some secrets from their parents.

  Silver stood back and considered Felicia’s appearance. She nodded as if satisfied. “Thank you.”

  Felicia frowned and started pulling off her shirt. Wiping the remaining blood off her shoulder with the clean parts made a good excuse to not look at Silver for a little while longer. “Bad timing,” she said, low and probably unconvincing.

  “I’d have done the same thing if I could.” Silver’s gaze angled to the side, and she got her small listening-to-the-air-make-a-joke smile on her lips. “But they’re less likely to believe the alpha stumbled than a cub. Neither of those two winning would have improved the situation, so better nobody win.” She snorted. “One of the strange truths of leadership.”

  “Oh.” Felicia rubbed the back of her head, though the bump was long healed. She hadn’t done it for any reasons nearly as good as that one sounded. She’d just been trying to shut up her guilty conscience about the dominance fight she could have started herself. “Whatever.”

  “Felicia.” Silver hesitated a beat. “That new roamer, if there’s anything he’s done—”

  Why couldn’t people stop asking her questions? Then she wouldn’t have to lie to them. “He hasn’t done anything.” She jerked away from Silver. She needed to go shower again and figure out how much of the perfume to use. Now she’d started, she’d probably better continue, or it would seem even stranger to people.

  Dammit, it had seemed like a good idea at the time.

  * * *

  When she was done with Felicia, Silver sought out Tom and pulled him aside to find out more about the latest visitor. He had no idea, of course, which made Death laugh. Even when he stopped, the dark of his eyes danced against the dark of his fur. Silver considered crying, but in the end she laughed too. “If this continues, I’m going to demand Dare find us a larger den,” she told Tom. He probably needed the laugh as well. He had the look of a young person taking on more than was really his fault. As one grew older, it became clearer that the world never provided a straight trail.

  Tom jerked his head up to peer at her, as if she was trying to trick him. He seemed to decide yes, it really was a joke, and his until recently habitual grin returned. “Maybe a—” Whatever word he used, Silver didn’t understand, but she nodded in agreement. After dealing with all this, perhaps she deserved whatever outrageous thing he’d just suggested. She’d tell Dare to ask Tom about it, when next she spoke to him.

  Whenever that was. Silver’s worries settled back on her shoulders like she always imagined it must be for dogs pulling things in harness. The weight of pulling everyone else forward always pulled you back. Acting as a mediator was important, but Silver also wanted to know this Were’s motives. Was it one of the sub-alphas, who thought to reverse the Roanoke’s decision more directly by changing Portland’s mind? It would have to be one who knew her well.

  At least she could address that question when the Were arrived. Felicia presented a more intractable mystery. Silver padded to where she could hear the running water as Felicia washed up. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall. Soothing water, a gentle sound.

  How was she was supposed to know how to treat Felicia, when she wavered from child to adult and back again? Silver was certain Felicia had intended to stop the dominance fight when she made that misstep.

  “Or are you certain she did it intentionally because you wanted so much to stop the fight yourself and could not?” Death murmured. His tail slid by her leg as he paced by. She didn’t open her eyes.

  “Whatever else you accuse her of, you can’t include a lack of intelligence,” Silver said, keeping her voice low. “A failure to use it when in the grip of strong emotions, yes, but I suspect someday she’ll have the same ability to read people her father does. That was well done.”

  “But does she care for your opinion?” Death snorted.

  Silver made a fist and set it very precisely and gently against the wall. “Probably not. But in some things, she doesn’t have a choice. I’m her father’s mate, and I’m responsible for her at the moment. I’m not going to let her hurt Tom. Or herself.”

  Death chuckled, long and deep. “When you find a way to keep the young from hurting themselves and those they love, you can become rich teaching it to every parent.”

  The water trickled off into silence, so Silver straightened. The visitor should be here soon. With her luck lately, the visit would end in screaming, tears, or a bloody fight.

  The visitor arrived with her Seattle escort soon after Silver reached the entrance to the den. Her scent seemed familiar, as did her dark hair and strong, round face. When she turned her head to thank her escort and Silver caught her profile, the memory clicked. Silver and Dare had traveled quite a lot when they first united the North American packs, and this woman had been one of the many pack members they met in—Silver had to search hard for the name—Salt Lake City’s territory. But she’d not been of any particular rank in the pack, which made this visit even more surprising.

  Of course, Silver couldn’t remember the woman’s name. Names were slippery, people’s names especially. She’d left collecting them to Dare in their travels. Silver nodded in acknowledgment when the woman stepped up and dropped her head low. “Roanoke,” the woman said, respectful. Silver supposed Portland would know her name, since this woman was here to see her. If Silver was lucky, Portland would use it before it became clear Silver didn’t remember.

  “I don’t mean to intrude, it’s just Michelle’s pack said she was still out of town, and I wanted to see her as soon as possible. We can—” The woman gestured over her shoulder, clearly offering to meet somewhere else.

  Very interesting that she called Portland by her name, not her title, when she wasn’t high ranked. “No, come in. Have something to eat.” Silver stepped out of the way in invitation. Maybe the food would make things go a little smoother this time.

  “Eliza?” Portland stepped into sight from inside the den, surprise and anger stiffening her steps. Craig hung well back. Wise man.

  “I thought I smelled—Craig called you? Why in the Lady’s name did you come all the way out here?” Portland stalked to stand before the other woman, glowering at her.

  “I didn’t tell her where we were,” Craig said, from his safe distance.

  “He didn’t need to. Of course you’d talk to the Roanoke in person. But why in name of the Lady’s kind mercy did Mother have to find out about this from Salt Lake, who heard it from Billings, who heard it from Lady knows who? Even when someone told me about it directly, why was it your beta, not you?” Eliza crossed her arms. “You tell me that, Shelly.”

  Portland’s lip lifted like she was holding back a snarl at the name. “Find out about what?”

  Silver exhaled on a note of dry amusement. Sisters, of course. She should have seen the resemblance before. They were of a height, with the same dark hair and warmly dusky skin, but Eliza was built rounder and more generously. Their wild selves were nearly identical, Eliza’s perhaps slightly less red. The way Portland
was fighting against a reaction too strong for a simple nickname made Silver think Eliza was the elder. In childhood, the older one would probably have been able to talk circles around the younger, leaving her to fume impotently and creating a pattern that lingered now.

  “About the baby.” Eliza’s expression softened and she held out her arms and pulled Portland into a hug. The younger woman endured it without her muscles yielding an inch. “Lady. We’re all happy for you, truly, but why couldn’t you tell us?”

  “I was waiting to see. No point getting people’s hopes up…” Portland turned her head away and pulled out of the hug.

  Silver could clearly see the expression Portland hid from her sister, hurt fighting with frustration. She went forward and gripped Portland’s shoulder, trying to distract the woman before the hurt turned savage.

  Too late. “You should know about that,” Portland said. Her words thudded into dead, dangerous silence. Death laughed, a baby’s burbling laugh, with a different tone from the one he’d used before.

  Portland swallowed. “Eliza, I’m sorry … but you have to understand, with everyone coming at me about this all at once—”

  “Lady!” Eliza shoved Portland and spat the word. “Why do you always have to be so defiant about everything, Shelly? I know Mother can be annoying with how much she wants grandchildren, but only you have to turn it into a big drama, hiding it from us. And Craig said you were refusing to step down as sub-alpha for the good of the child?”

  “Enough.” Silver left Portland to interpose herself between the sisters. Nothing good could come of anything else said with voices twisted with such emotion. “You’ve relayed your concern.” She gave Eliza an alpha’s stare. “Now is the time to give her solitude to think.”

  Silence stretched, charged. Silver smelled the same from both sisters: pain twisting into anger, not true rage. Pain born from love. She presumed they’d both lost babies and were dealing with it in their individual ways, unable to understand how the other could find healing through a process so different.