Page 6 of Wolves of the Rising Moon

“Dude, why are you making me memorize different herb combinations if the actual recipes don’t matter at all?” Mari huffs for the umpteenth time.

And I repeat myself, though this time I admit, my patience has worn thin. “For consistency, Mari. Feel free to pick whatever herbs you like to make your own concoctions. But changing the recipe every time only makes it harder on you.”

“I don’t see why. If it’s just about intention, why should the actual herbs matter? What’s the point of memorizing them?”

I huff out a breath and aim to keep the annoyance from my tone. “Because, dear, stubborn sister, the more you change things, the easier it is for your intention to get distorted. Let’s say you’re in a life and death situation and you have to make a tincture on the spot. Chances are good your adrenaline-addled brain might make a mistake. Your focus will likely be split in a thousand directions, and your intention could be affected. But if you look at an herb combo and your brain naturally thinks up the corresponding intention, you’re essentially automating the work and taking human error out of the equation.”

Mari crosses her arms and glances down at the bundle of wormwort, foxglove, and cock’s comb. “I guess that makes sense. But I didn’t think I’d be signing up for rote memorization.”

I press my lips together, holding back the words I’d like to say. “It’s not so bad. There are only a few herb combos you’ll need regularly. The rest you can make up on your own. But it’s important to get the pain dulling, sleep tincture, and the scent neutralizer bang-on.”

“Say it.”

I meet Mari’s gaze over the island. Everything about her body language screams confrontational. From the set of her jaw to the hand on her hip.

“Say what?”

She purses her lips. “I can always tell when you’re biting your tongue. Your voice does that awful squeaky thing to overcompensate for whatever attitude you’re holding back. It’s better just to let it out and be done with it.”

A loud, throat-rattling scoff falls right out of my mouth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ha. Right. You can’t lie to your twin, dummy. Now tell me what’s on your mind so we can move on.”

I take a deep breath, let it out slowly, and push the stack of herbs closer to Mari’s side, ignoring her completely. “Anyway, I like to use mnemonics with the first letter of each herb or plant. But use whatever memory device you prefer.”

Even as I say it, Mari’s harsh glare bores into me.

“What is it? Are you mad your guys are getting along better? Miffed they aren’t still fighting over you?”

“What?! No! I’m happy Rafe and Jonah have bonded over hating Drago.”

“Mhmm. You’re not missing the attention?”

“No, Marigold. I do not miss Rafe and Jonah throwing each other across my cottage,” I say with an extra helping of incredulity.

She’s right, though.

If you tell her, I’ll deny it.

But I do miss the male bravado and posturing from Rafe. Just a little.

It’s just not what I’m annoyed about, so it’s not technically a lie.

“Is being away from Drago wearing on you?” she asks, eyeing me up and down. “You look a little thinner, and your eyes are extra baggy.”

Another slow breath. She really knows how to get on my goddamn nerves. It’s true, I haven’t been sleeping that well, but Mari already knows that. Her pointing out my haggard appearance was only an attempt to push my buttons enough to get me to tell her what I’m really upset about.

I know her as well as I know myself, and we’ve been playing this game for a long time.

“No, Mari. You know I’ve been having weird dreams about him most nights. You also know my appetite is weird because I haven’t been sleeping well because of those dreams. So, stop pointing out the obvious. Now, what are these herbs used for?” I glare at her, then the bundle pointedly, and hope she lets it go.

But she doesn’t.

Because she’s Mari.

My sister crosses her arms. “Nope. Not until you tell me what’s wrong, Willa. You keep huffing and sighing and it’s pissing me off. Get it off your chest.”

I don’t respond and Mari does what she does best. She hits the biggest nerve she can find.

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