Flower Moon Rising (Lupine Hollow Academy Book 1)

by Quinn Arthurs

I settled back into my starting position, glancing at Mr. Cole to see if he would stop me. Instead, he arched a brow as if daring me to continue. That was a dare I was definitely willing to take. I fired until I was out of arrows, my arms screaming with pain, before scrambling back to the target to collect my arrows and repeat the process. It wasn’t until I could no longer hold the bow straight that Mr. Cole stepped in to pull it from my hands. “There’ll be time for more later,” he assured me. “For now, let’s heal you. You’re well past the end of your lesson. Most of the students are in their rooms getting ready for the festival tonight. I’ll walk you back when you’re ready.”

  It only took me a minute to change, but I was grateful for the late dinner tonight because it would give me plenty of time to relax—and deal with Lyle. I could feel the tension building up in my shoulders as Mr. Cole escorted me back to the dorms. “You did well today.” His quiet voice nearly had me jumping out of my skin. “You’re progressing more quickly than I thought. We’ll have to increase the difficulty of your workouts from now on.”

  I snorted. “There’s motivation for me.” I unlocked my door, checking quickly to make sure the interior was empty.

  “I’ll see you at the bonfire, Ms. Miller.” With a nod, he left. Flipping the lock, I made my way into the bathroom, stripping down on the way and tossing my clothes to the side. With everything else I’d been doing, I hadn’t taken advantage of the large, clawfoot tub in the corner, and today it was calling my name. I poured bubble bath into the basin, enjoying the vanilla and lavender scent that rose in the steam. I settled into the porcelain haven, hissing at the heat of the water, though it began to soothe within a few moments. I’d always enjoyed baths and I hadn’t realized how much I’d been missing them.

  I let myself doze, simply enjoying the heat. Here, I didn’t have to worry about anything, think about anything, be anything other than relaxed. I was going to enjoy it to the maximum. The water cooled slowly, but by the time I finally drained it, I was ready to face the dreaded phone call. Hopefully, when he’d spoken to Raff, he’d been assured I was adjusting well and my academics were up to par—even if that second part wasn’t quite true.

  I pulled myself from the tub with a sigh, using the thick towels to dry off before pulling on leggings and a shirt. I didn’t feel like heading to Raff’s office for the call, preferring the privacy of my bedroom, so I grabbed my new phone from my bag. I held my breath as I dialed, wishing he could have forgotten me here as easily as he’d forgotten me when I’d spent time alone in our house.

  “Hello?” The word was sharp and I rolled my eyes. Apparently it didn’t matter to Lyle who was calling him, he was going to be a jerk either way.

  “Lyle?”

  “Penelope.” He sighed, evidently as irritated by the need for this call as I was. “Raff assures me that you’re doing fine for your time there. I’m not sure if anyone’s notified you by now, however, due to the rigors of your new school, you’ll be staying there for the summer. I’ve been assured that most of the student body remains behind, so you won’t be spending time alone. As it is, I figure you’ll be more comfortable with your new, erm, friends, than being here at my house.”

  “Yeah, they told me. Is that the only reason you called?”

  “First, I wanted to ask you about the jewelry and things you took from the home.” His voice was chilly, the words nearly freezing the speaker of my phone. “When I told you that you could take a few choice mementos, I hadn’t expected you to abscond with the few items of value your mother owned that could have helped pay off the bills of her estate.”

  “It’s all costume stuff,” I lied through gritted teeth. “It’s not like she had money to buy diamonds or anything.” She hadn’t had that kind of money, however, my grandmother’s jewels had still been there, lovingly protected and pulled out on special occasions.

  “There’s no need to lie to me, Penelope. I’m well aware of what items your mother had of value.” He sniffed, the sound both haughty and dismissive. “However, those can be returned to me at a later date. I don’t trust the post office to send such a valuable package.” I resisted the urge to pound my head into the wall. “The main reason I was calling, however, was to inform you that I have found a buyer for the house.”

  I froze, my whole body tightening as I tried to process what he’d just told me. “What?” I whispered, the word so weak I wondered if he would even hear it.

  “Yes, they are quite anxious to take residence there actually.”

  “How soon are you going to sell it? I mean, it’s going to take a while to box everything up and find a storage unit and…” I trailed off at his sigh.

  “Penelope, they’re going to take the house as is. Furnishings and items included.”

  “No!” The word burst from my lips in a roar of shocked fury. “No! There are pictures and clothes and…” Memories. So many memories. “You said you’d box it up. That you’d save it.”

  “Penelope, try to understand.” Lyle’s irritated tone wasn’t lost on me. What right did he have to be irritated? He was the one breaking a promise and getting rid of every piece of my prior life. “It’s a lot of time and money to do that. They’re willing to pay extra for those things and discard anything that they don’t have a use for. You’re nearly eighteen, an adult in your own right. You must see the logic in that.”

  “I don’t care about the logic!” A sob broke from my lips. “Those things are mine. You don’t have a right to get rid of them. At least give me a chance to go down there and get anything else I can.” I wasn’t sure how I’d manage to get a ride there, but I’d beg, borrow, or steal a car if I needed to. “Please, at least give me one more chance. Just a few hours. I can come this weekend.”

  “The deal’s done, Penelope. We’ve already signed the papers. You may not return to the house even if you could manage to find a ride, since I don’t have the time to give you one. It’s no longer yours.”

  “You can’t do this!”

  “I’ll speak to you again once you’re able to control your emotions like an adult, Penelope. I don’t waste my time arguing with weeping, overemotional children. Continue to improve your studies. I expect a glowing report the next time I check in.” With a click, he—and every piece of my past—was gone.

  Chapter Twenty

  I locked my door, checking it twice to ensure that it was secure before sliding the key into my pocket. I knew the others were already down at the Flower Moon festivities, and the halls were mostly silent as I walked, though some noise drifted through the doors of other students’ rooms. I wasn’t sure where I was headed, just knew I couldn’t face the festivities feeling like this. I needed a place to clear my head, to try and think about everything—not mass quantities of frivolity and ceremony. Lyle’s words still rung in my ears, echoing sickly inside my head, making me dizzier and dizzier with every passing moment. My steps quickened as I tried to run from the thoughts pounding into my head, fleeing farther and farther into the building and away from any potential encounters. I couldn’t handle anyone right now.

  My breath came in panting sobs, the stairs flying underneath my feet as I clattered up the stairs, my tears blinding me as to the direction I was taking. I just knew I had to get away. I fell through a doorway, kicking it closed behind me as the night air washed across my skin, the moonlight creating silver beams through my tears. I collapsed on the rooftop tower, the stone digging into my knees, tearing sharp little rips into the fragile skin, shredding it as completely as my heart.

  Everything was gone. Absolutely everything. Lyle had found someone to buy not only the house, but all of its contents. Even the pictures had been included in the sordid deal he’d made, so he didn’t have to deal with handling them himself. His callous claim that I’d been allowed to gather my favorite items from the house already—and had absconded with few of the valuable items—had been an equally deep slash of the sword across my wounded emotions. It had hurt coming here, being torn from the only real home
I had ever known, even though it was empty without my mom there filling it with laughter, stories, and the sweet scent of her favorite almond cookies.

  I couldn’t breathe, the sobs coming so fast and hard I didn’t have a moment to regain my breath between them. The tears burned as they coursed over my cheeks, their acidic tracks displaying the raw pain inside me. Each gasp tore at my throat and I wondered if it was bleeding—it’d only be fair to have my blood draining from my body along with my tears. He’d destroyed everything, sold everything—the blankets we’d collected, the movies we’d watch on Friday nights, the baby clothes she’d saved for me in hopes I would one day pass them on to my own daughter.

  I’d been trying so hard to fit in here, to excel, to not get killed. Part of me had hoped Lyle wouldn’t follow through with this threat—or at the very least he would maintain his promise to keep the pictures and maybe even other personal belongings we had accumulated through the years. All I had managed to do was gather a few hastily chosen items to stuff at the bottom of a suitcase; the rest were now lost to me forever. Every time I’d wanted to reach out to her, to talk to her—when Chann had kissed me, when I’d successfully used a bow for the first time, when I’d met Shannon, when Rhiannon had torn me apart—I had made myself push through, made myself focus on my goals rather than the pain tearing a hole inside of my heart.

  “I can’t do this, Mom.” The words were broken, whispered, ragged shards of glass on my tattered throat. “I know I said I’d try, and I’ve tried and tried. I don’t belong here though. I’ll never belong here. So, what do I do? Make friends here for the next year, only to leave them behind and start over all alone again? I can’t do it again, I just can’t.”

  The darkness tugged at my mind, as swift and strong as the manipulation power Rhiannon had used on me. This was no magic, however, merely the horror waiting inside of my soul, waiting for me to break, to give in to the silence waiting for me. “I just want to join you, Mom,” I moaned out, resting my head against the cold granite of the tower ledge. It would only be a quick drop, a few seconds of my time at most…

  “Ms. Miller?” The deep, velvety voice was quiet, but I groaned, unable to deal with anyone interrupting my current pain.

  “Please go away,” I begged through my sobs, refusing to look at him. The air shifted as he settled down beside me.

  “I lost my parents too, you know,” he remarked, his tone light and conversational, his calm timbre in direct contrast to the sobs still ripping from my chest. I wrapped my arms around my waist, attempting to stop myself from tearing open from agony. “Years ago, when I was just a young pup—not all packs are like Raff’s—they lost in a challenge against wolves far too strong for them. They were torn apart, piece by piece, as I watched—a warning to me against trying to raise myself within the pack. Utterly foolish,” he scoffed, though his voice deepened, hinting at a lingering pain behind the words. “I was discharged from the pack, as is the practice, left to wander the world as a lone wolf. Until I met Raff. When he said his pack was different, I didn’t believe him at first. It was about six years ago, and by that point, I was about fourteen years old and I trusted no one, rarely coming out of my wolf form. If I was going to be treated as a monster, I was damn well going to be one.”

  He sighed deeply, laying his head against the stone behind mine, his dark hair a shadow in my tear-filled vision as he passed me a silky white handkerchief. “It was hard, turning back to my human form. I felt more, had to remember more that way rather than merely focusing on my next meal or a place to sleep, avoiding the other wolves or humans I would come across. A darkness began to creep up inside me, seeping into everything I did. Why bother making friends when I knew they would eventually turn against me? Why bother with the simple rules of society when I would just end up back in the wild by myself? But Raff was persistent, meeting with me again and again, teaching me in any spare moments he could gather and granting me permission to be on his pack’s territory. I was still an outsider, of course, but permitted—just a wandering pup.”

  His words were barely processing through the walls of darkness surrounding me, but a small part of me, one that longed to live rather than die, had raised its burdened head, veering toward the comfort his presence offered. “I was doing well, finding my places amongst the weakest, the fringe of the pack. Then, the inevitable happened. A challenge was issued. I was an outsider, unranked, and others were uncomfortable, needing to know where I fit in amongst them. When I got into the ring, when I saw the other wolf opposing me, that darkness I thought I’d buried overwhelmed me. I went after him with everything inside of me, seeing only the wolves who had destroyed my life. If it wasn’t for Raff’s voice in my head, telling me it was okay, reminding me that I was safe no matter what choice I ended up making, the fog wouldn’t have cleared from my mind. It was then I found out that I was a healer.” My sobs had eased, my attention focused on the horrors of his story and his loss, not only of his parents, but nearly his sense of self as well.

  “The darkness went away?” I croaked, swiping hard at the tears on my cheeks, irritated at the dampness that remained as more tears crawled down my face.

  “Partially.” He shrugged, the dark lines of his suit stark, even in the shadows. “I didn’t want to maintain a high position in the pack, didn’t want to focus on the challenges that would bring out the pain inside me. Raff found a way around it. He elected me as weapons master of the school, a guardian for the pack, not truly ranked but a soldier for their protection. It leaves me on the outskirts, but after the first showing, no one sought to challenge me again.”

  “Did it help? Did the pain ever really go away?” The words were a plea, my hand unconsciously clasping on to his wrist as I prayed he’d tell me what I wanted to hear.

  “It dulled, Penelope. Yet the sharpness of it sneaks back when I’m not thinking about it, the shadow of it hidden inside of me, trying to draw me away from the light of day.”

  “I just want it to stop,” I admitted on a sob. “I want to remember her, but I want to do it without hurting.” The words were only a whisper. “I want to just play with my friends, to think about my future, to be accepted. I want my family back,” I sobbed, letting him draw my head down to his shoulder.

  “Nothing says you can’t have that here. We’ve accepted you as one of us. That’s not going to change just because of your grade, no matter what rumor you may hear spread throughout the halls.”

  “And the memories? How did you handle them?” I questioned, ignoring the tears that were tracking onto my clothes.

  “Sometimes we can’t hide from the past, no matter how much we want to. You think you’re okay, that you’re handling things, that you’ve come to terms with things… then it sneaks up on you, so quietly, so slowly you didn’t realize it had come to haunt you again before it’s latched on, draining you moment after moment. Until the past is all you can think about, all you can experience. Every moment, every breath, it’s shadowed by the horrors and the pain you thought you’d moved past. And you fight it, again and again, trying desperately to remember that there really is light outside of the darkness you’re being dragged into, peace outside of the pain that’s drowning you. But every breath is painful to draw in, your memories suffocating you, and your strength, your sense of self, gets weaker. It takes everything in you to hold on to the edge of the surface, to fake a smile, to remember—or want—a future. Sometimes, you just need someone else who understands that darkness. Who’s held on to that edge before. Someone to reach a hand down for yours, not because you’ve asked for it, but because they truly see you and they still want to help. To hold you for a moment, to help you breathe, to carry the weight. To bring back the sun.” He smoothed a hand down my hair, the gesture soft and soothing.

  “You’d do that?” I asked, unwilling to look up at him in case he denied me.

  “Always,” he promised, his grip tight on the back of my neck. “You’re like sunshine to me, so bright despite what you’ve been
through. You’re full of spice and fire, trying so damn hard and reminding me to try as well.” His lips grazed my head, causing shock to radiate through me, sharp enough to push past the pain.

  “It helps if you talk about it. What happened today? You haven’t been yourself.” His question was quiet, but there was a hint of command behind it, and I balled his handkerchief into my hand, swiping at my nose before I answered.

  “I heard from my uncle,” I admitted.

  “You don’t get along?” he inquired, confusion rippling through his words.

  “I didn’t really know him. He and my mom were estranged. When he sent me here, he didn’t even warn me, just told me the same day I was brought here. I’d spent the month since my mother’s death alone, wallowing in my guilt. Then one day, Raff just showed up at my door and I had a few minutes to toss items into a suitcase.”

  “That’s hard, but it was weeks ago. What happened to drag it all back up for you?”

  “Lyle, my uncle, called. He’s found a buyer for the house.” My throat clogged up, my eyes burning hotter as the words fell as freely as my tears.

  “Ah. That’s very difficult. You grew up there?” he asked quietly, continuing to stroke my hair softly.

  “He sold everything. Even stuff he was supposed to keep—her blankets, her books, her pictures…” The last word was a sob.

  “Bastard,” he hissed, shocking me into a gasp. I had never heard him swear before, even one as mild as bastard. “There’s nothing you can salvage? I could reach out to the buyers directly,” he offered.

  “Just the few things I brought with me—he’s even demanding I give back my mom’s jewelry so he can sell it. For expenses, he says. He won’t even tell me who the buyers are, either. By the time it’s legal…” I didn’t want to verbalize my fear that the new owners would have already destroyed everything.

  “Talk to Raff,” he encouraged softly, “and to your friends as well. Let them help you bear the burden. For all you know, they may have an idea. Why didn’t you go to them tonight, instead of coming up here and contemplating something I never want to see in your eyes again?”