I wait outside Tabitha's apartment doors, leaning against the cool brick wall, staring at his squeezed letter. All it says is: I will come to get you. Just tug on the bond. The message is concise, yet I read it again and again.

That must be a joke; just tug on the bond. A small laugh flees my throat even though my eyes are brimming with tears. Sometimes it feels like a rope—something to tug—but to use it as a line of communication sounds as fanciful as Tabitha's magick.

I pet the parchment with my fingertip.

"Brea! I know you're there. Just come inside so we can discuss this!" Tabitha yells, her voice loud yet invaded by desperation. I close the letter and conceal it in my bust to not lose track of it.

I have a light-headed meander to the doors, and then I turn a handle and open one. Her apartment reeks of sage, and the cleansing smoke spreads past me into the corridor. My nose twists up, and my hand wipes to relieve my sinuses, but I endure despite my disorientation. Her chambers are a shadowed haze; the curtains are drawn and western incenses smolder. My blood is splattered from the bottle on the floor—something I gifted her after she mentioned its versatility. She was in the middle of drawing a circle, then. And my blood is the key ingredient.

"Brea," Tabitha says, locked in Carden's iron grasp by her elbow. "What are you doing, youngling? What's the cause of all this? Has something happened? You know we can't trust anyone except each other."

My face sours and another blink sends my tears on their way.

"Oh, Brea. What have you gotten yourself into?"

I lift my chin. "What did the stones say?"

"The stones?"

"The stones, Tabitha. What did they say? Did they warn you of the weather, my death, or of this?"

She yanks on Carden. "I don't know what this is!"

"Did you kill my father and brother?" I ask, stone-faced.

She starts to crumble, first caving at her hips. "Who told you I did that? That's—that's not true. Obviously that's not true!"

"You can tell me the truth, or you can burn."

Tabitha sputters, notes my tenacity then reels up and fixates her gaze. Her nostrils flare but her mouth is straight—neither smiling nervously nor frowning in fear. "Okay," she agrees. "I-I will. Not because I want to save myself, but because I love you, Brea, truly."

I turn away, so she revolts. "Don't pretend as though the past sixteen months haven't happened. Our time together was real—I see you as nothing less than a sister, and I always will."

"So tell me the truth," I nearly beg.

Tabitha breathes and nods and nods again with her eyes closed because she's consulting with the voices. I've never seen her exposed like this, and her toiling makes her more of a stranger than ever. "I came to your territory in search of Mary—your tailor. Mary was born into a family with very old ties to the God, and because of that, she knew methods that are now rarely heard of. Years ago, Mary helped me make my own blood promise with the God."

"You had my curse?"

"Yes. I did, and I came here to make Mary undo it. I-I know how maddening it can be to be tied to the God as you are; I was for five years."

"But you aren't any longer—how did you break it? Y-you said you didn't know how!"

"For you, I don't know," she persists. "I never lied about that."

"Why is it different? Why can't I break it?"

"Let me explain," she says and stands so Carden stops yanking her back into place. "When I found Mary, she told me that the only way for me to void my deal is to offer the God a more powerful female in my place, but as a witch of my years, I couldn't think of any woman. So Mary and I devised a plan to create a more powerful woman; she told me about you—the daughter of the Alpha—and how a girl of Alpha blood can become Alpha if there are no other heirs."

My gasp stutters as I try to ease future sobs. Every word she utters is too much, so I press my hand to my chest just to feel the letter bend between my skin and shift.

"Your father and brother's deaths allowed for you to become an Alpha female and more powerful than I."

"And my mother?" I question.

"Your mother's death had nothing to do with any of it. She needed a midwife, and she chose me for the position knowing that I am a witch; she thought my craft could help her pregnancy unlike any of the other candidates. I looked into her belly and saw no sign of life. If I could have saved her during the delivery, I would have. She was a good, western woman, and dead or alive she wouldn't have affected your claim to the title."

"But you used her pregnancy to infiltrate her family, to kill her mate and son," I argue. "You pretended to be my friend."

"I am your friend, Brea," she insists, growing restless again. "I laid in your bed and stroked your hair and comforted you when you had no one."

"You're the reason I don't have anyone!"

She groans and tries to pry Cardon's fingers off one by one but is gravely unsuccessful. I pace and rub my temples and neck, trying to gain a sense of place because I feel as though I've been plunged into the God's realm. Tabitha growls in frustration, provoking my attention.

"So you gave me your curse under the guise that it would help me," I mumble, utterly ill.

"It did. It helped you fight a war your father was losing. It provided for your people and renewed your pack, and it's the reason your mate doesn't see you as a worthless little girl."

Ignoring her jabs, I ask, "What did the stones say? Did they tell you that I would find out? Is that why you killed the tailor?"

"I thought she was the only person who knew the truth."

I sigh and gesture for Larris to grab her free arm.

Tabitha's legs crumble next. "Who told you?"

I plainly say, "The tailor's daughter."

"Daughter?" She ponders with a drunken sort of grin. "You believe me then—that this is the truth?"

"Yes. I believe that you are a murderer," I spit.

"Brea—"

"I believe that you've ruined my life and destroyed my family to rid yourself of this curse. Alexei was right to question me about you. I should have listened and seen you for what you are."

Tabitha invigorates at the sound of his name and begins to pull at both Carden and Larris. "Alexei!" She taunts. "If you think you can tell Alexei the truth, you are terribly mistaken, Brea! He will hate you for what you've done! He will look upon that hideous scar and curse the Goddess for chaining him with your bond!"

My teeth clench hard enough to strain my jaw. I furiously swipe the tears from my cheeks and mutter, "I will bleed to take your power from you—you deserve to be the helpless human you were born as. May your death be on the first wolf who finds you wandering beyond my territory."

"You said we were family!"

Watching her now, I can't help but realize how wild she is. Her veins pop from her neck and forehead, and her eyes circle in paranoia. She is a stunningly good actress, for she's hid her own fears so well and for so long. And this is what I am destined to become—a fake always preening to protect her evil secret.

Because I've fallen silent, Tabitha asks, "Don't you want to know why your promise cannot be broken?"

"Because there is no woman more powerful than me," I answer.

Tabitha bobs her head, letting herself fall limp. "Burn me."

"No. I'll do as I said." My hands clasp to stop the shaking, and I face my men. "Lock her up. I don't want her going anywhere while I ruin her."

"Brea! I won't die a human!" She riots. "Brea!"

I exit her apartment while I ignore her hollering. The corset under my dress has been gradually tightening since I walked in, and now that I'm alone, I tear at the bondings of my clothes until the garment loosens enough for my lungs to fill. I breathe and breathe and extend an arm to the wall in search of balance. The letter crinkles. I dig my fingers into my modest bust and hook it.

I read my name and follow the stroke of his handwriting. I'll come to get you, he says. The world darkens as I remember the calming scent and warmth of riding on his wolf; the weightlessness and closeness, and his calculated steps as to not wake me. All I have to do is tug on our bond, so I press against my chest to reach my heart.

It would be a lie to believe I have no one. I will never stop hoping that I have him.

I bleed to withdraw Tabitha's witchhood, but even as the God is drinking from my neck, I fail to regain my sense of purpose. My head is muddy, and my eyes are dry from their constant tear-shedding. All I want is to be left alone, out of reach, and forgotten; I am the most powerful woman alive, but never have I felt so foolish.

I knead into my chest again before bed, but the bond is unreachable. I could send a letter and accept Alexei's offer, but I couldn't bear the thought of him seeing me in this state of humiliation. What Alpha falls for such a scheme? How gullible and inexperienced must I be to trust a witch and allow her to curse me, to drain all the sacrality from my being and scorch me with the God's immorality? How blind and moronic and pathetic must—

My self-deprecation holds to make way for a new realization; the fact that I was never meant to be an Alpha at all. I became Alpha because Tabitha needed me to be, yet I fought for my title with Alexei as if it belongs to me.

I fist my blankets when my anger bubbles over. If I had to stomach to kill Tabitha, I would, but as a human, she won't survive this world long enough to see the winter solstice. She's likely to die to the cold before she can make it to another territory for refuge, and I think I will find contentment knowing she'll perish in the form she despises most.

I touch the jagged mark that the God's teeth left embedded in my throat and turn onto my side. Alexei would kill her. He'd rip her body apart then watch her flesh burn and boil in fire. He would return wiser and stronger, and even though I know this to be true, I cannot help but let my pain hurt me.

~•~

I wake much too early, I ready myself for the day, and I walk to my mother's barren garden which is merely empty stone planters like robbed graves left exposed to the elements.

I stand and pick my brain for memories when this garden was vibrant and mature and exotically lush—for the northern mountains, that is—but my mind is spent and nothing crops up, so I stand and stare under my heavy cloak and wait until my face grows too cold to stand any longer.

This proves to be a lengthier trial than expected.

Far into the morning, after I've been brooding long enough for the cobblestone cracks to fill with snow, footsteps near from behind me, and the tailor's daughter joins my side. I glance at her, and she says, "Excuse me, Alpha, if I'm disturbing you. I don't mean to, I just wanted to know if—"

"If I've done something with my witch?" I finish.

Her cheeks redden and mask her freckles. "Well, yes."

I breathe in and out and look back to the garden of ruins. "I've taken care of it."

"Will she burn? Hang? Is she dead?"

"She's going to die soon if she hasn't already."

The girl fidgets. "I'm sorry, Alpha, but I'd really like to know details. It sounds gruesome for a girl of sixteen, but she killed m-my mother, and I would just like to know that she got what she deserved."

"Alright," I grant and bury my hands further into the dense lining of my cloak. "Tabitha—that was her name; she was stripped of her witchhood and exiled to the north in the middle of the night. She likely died of exposure some hours ago."

"Stripped of her witchhood? I didn't know that was possible."

"It's possible if you're lucky enough to hear the secret," I say.

She, too, looks out at the garden. "My mother knew everything, and not even she knew how to become human again. Mother always told me that if she did find out a way, she would do it for me."

Not even a deal with the God is worth a wish granted. I ask, "And how did a witch come to have a she-wolf daughter?"

The girl grins. "She adopted me from the West Village Orphanage when I was seven years old."

"Being human is just as dangerous in these lands as being a witch, but as a witch, your mother could protect herself; she'd have advantages."

"Yes, which is exactly why she dreamed of living in the west. Western people are welcoming to humans and are rather lenient with witches. There aren't many humans left these days but—"

"To say there are any is—"

"There are," the girl invigorates as our conversation overlaps. "They say in the west there are tribes of humans hiding in the forests because the forests are the biggest in the world. That's the only place they're safe."

"So your mother wanted to become human to sail to the west and live in the woods?"

"Do you not like the west, Alpha?"

I face her. "I am western. For someone who speaks so highly of the west, I find it funny that you cannot recognize a western person."

"Why, it's your blond hair, isn't it? I know western people have hair of sunshine." She bunches her curls. "Although, I thought your hair was like that because of your Alpha blood."

"Who has been teaching you these things?" I question and turn my body. "You know what, for as long as you're here, I require you see a tutor. That should give you something productive to do rather than wandering outside in the cold."

"I suppose it could take my mind off things," she contemplates, "but I don't have much education under my belt, and I would hate to embarrass myself. My mother taught me most things, and the rest I've learned from the shopkeepers, but, I suppose my mother couldn't deny the teachings of the Alpha's tutor."

"Good. Now go back indoors before you make yourself sick."

"But you've been standing out here for hours, and the housekeepers are starting to watch from the windows in case you collapse." She points to the fortress and the scattering outlines of women in the glass panes. "Maybe you should come inside as well."

I sigh and follow her inside, and then she follows me to the dining hall. As we travel down the main corridor, she asks, "How do you know sh—Tabitha is dead if you didn't see her die?"

"Because of logic."

"Her death would be logical, but, well, I find it difficult to accept. I would have to see her body to know for sure."

I bypass her comment by asking, "What is your name?"

"Oh, my goodness, it's Edith. I apologize for not properly introducing myself, Alpha. When we met, so much was going through my head that I could hardly speak."

Edith and I sit in the dining hall, each in the very middle chairs. She requests breakfast, and I sit as she licks her plate clean then eyes the fruit bowl with childish wonder. She chooses all imported fruits from the farthest lands without realizing it and bites each one in a dream-like state. Her lips pucker and curve in a smile, and she makes sounds of pure delight. "I've never tasted fruits like these," she says before swallowing then shyly covers her mouth. "Sorry, Alpha."

I gesture to the fruit still up in her hand. "It tastes like summer, doesn't it? That particular fruit comes from the East Islands."

She churns in glee. "Everything served here is delicious. I didn't know the ground could grow such strange things, but the fruits and puddings and pastries; it's curing the ache in my heart, or, at the very least, distracting from it."

"What you saw yesterday in the fitting room—how I conjured the two men—that must remain between us."

"Does anyone else know? A-are you capable of witchcraft?" She whispers, mindful of the eavesdroppers who are not here.

"No, and no. It is entirely different, but that doesn't mean people should know. As your Alpha, I need you to forget what you saw, do you understand?"

She sets down her fruit. "Why, it's escaping my memory as we speak."

"Thank you."

I spend the rest of the day sitting at the dining table, and Edith sits and talks to me when she comes for her meals. I don't mean to insult her when I fail to respond time and time again, but she continues to talk without my answer, and I believe she knows I'm listening. Edith doesn't need a response to carry on a conversation, however. She simply needs someone there.

One of the braver housekeepers comes around midnight and insists I get to bed. She shoos me from the dining hall, so I walk down the corridors until the itch scratching the back of my head finally bests me. I whip around and storm to the northern gate—the most infrequently used out of all four—and I crank it open myself. Once the gate opens enough for my wolf to slip through, I untie and push my dress down. The winter wind gropes with an icy touch, but I shift swiftly and dash just as the gateman returns with a steaming drink.

The snow had been light in the morning, so Tabitha, Carden, and Larris's tracks are still decipherable among the tangled brush. I follow them until the tracks thin to one; Tabitha's lone track moving tiredly and obviously like a wounded deer searching for a place to lay down. It leads me to three large trees, the points of a triangle, and a figure is slumped within.

Tabitha's coarse, black hair splatters like ink on parchment against the snow, and the rest of her is covered by a cloak. I circle her body until part of her face comes into view. The cold has begun to rot her flesh, turning it black on her nose while other spots freeze white.

With little time, I shift and rest my bare knees against the rock-littered dirt. "I loved you, and you used it against me," I mumble—the wind already feels whittled and sharp. "Even if a more powerful woman rises, I will never pass on this curse. I will never ruin another woman as you've ruined me.

"I will carry this curse to my grave and find freedom in death, and if another witch revives it, I will ensure she faces the God herself."