By the next morning, Silvercrest had apparently agreed that nothing mattered except the tournament.
Two young wolves passed me on the path, arguing over which elite warrior would win. Outside the pack house, a crowd debated possible matchups with the seriousness usually reserved for border disputes. Someone had started taking bets. An elder was in the process of making him regret it.
Even the pups had joined in.
One little boy collapsed onto the grass, clutching his chest, while another planted a foot beside him and declared himself champion.
"You missed," the boy on the ground complained.
"You still died."
I stepped around them.
You should enter.
My wolf had found a new favorite subject. Unfortunately, it was the same subject she had kept me awake with last night.
"No."
You thought about it.
"I think about lots of things."
You imagined winning.
"Participating."
You were standing over someone.
"That proves nothing."
A woman carrying a basket glanced at me.
I closed my mouth.
Wonderful. Barely past breakfast, and I was already arguing with myself in public.
My wolf seemed unconcerned.
The healer's hut offered no refuge.
"Callen registered," Mira announced before I had even set down my basket.
"Of course he did."
"Kieran too."
My fingers caught on the basket handle.
It was a small hesitation. Mira noticed anyway.
"What?" I asked.
"Nothing."
"You're smiling."
"Am I?"
I pulled my hand free and turned toward the shelves. Behind me, a bottle clinked against another. Mira was still smiling. I didn't need to look to know.
Lysandra emerged from the back room with an armful of dried herbs.
"Maera registered this morning."
That made me turn.
"Maera?"
Lysandra laid the bundles on the table. "Yes."
Of course she had. Maera was trained, ranked, and unlikely to pass up an opportunity to demonstrate either in front of an audience.
"Good for her."
Mira suddenly became very interested in a bottle label.
I took a bundle from the table. "I'm still not entering."
"I didn't ask," Lysandra said.
"You were going to."
"Was I?"
I began stripping dried leaves from a stem with more force than necessary.
Lysandra watched the pieces scatter across the table.
"Try to leave some for the patients."
Later that morning, she sent me to the barracks for supplies.
I suspected nothing until I reached the training grounds.
Then I suspected everything.
Wooden swords cracked together. Boots scraped over packed earth. Near the fence, a warrior adjusted a younger wolf's stance, nudging his foot outward before stepping back to let him try again.
Someone lost a wrestling match and demanded another. His opponent laughed and offered him a hand.
Usually, there was an edge to this place—a sense that every movement was preparation for something that might one day kill us.
Today, people were enjoying themselves.
I slowed as two wolves circled each other in a practice ring. One kept shifting his weight too far forward. When he lunged, the other stepped aside and caught him behind the knee.
I had seen the opening before he moved.
That didn't mean I could have used it.
I tightened my grip on the empty basket and kept walking.
Get the supplies. Return to Lysandra.
Simple.
"Elara!"
Almost simple.
Callen jogged toward me, with Kieran following at a more reasonable pace.
"Have you registered?"
"Good morning to you too."
"Have you?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want to."
He looked genuinely disappointed in the answer.
"That's a terrible reason."
"It's the best reason I have."
Kieran stopped beside him. "Morning."
"Morning."
His sleeves were pushed to his elbows, and there was a streak of dust along one forearm. I looked back at Callen before Mira could somehow sense me noticing.
"You train," Callen said.
"I do."
"Everyone's allowed to enter."
"So I've heard."
"And you knocked Kieran down."
Kieran let out a slow breath. "You've mentioned that."
"I'll probably mention it again."
"It was an accident," I said.
Callen glanced at him. "Was it?"
Kieran hesitated.
I wished he hadn't.
"You see?" I said quickly.
"I haven't answered."
"You took too long."
His gaze settled on mine. "I don't know what happened."
Neither did I.
For a moment, I remembered the impact more clearly than the conversation around me. The movement that had come too easily. Kieran on the ground. My own hands, which had looked exactly as they always did.
Callen folded his arms.
"Then enter. Give us something else to talk about."
"I'm beginning to understand why people find you annoying."
"Beginning?" Kieran asked.
I laughed before I could stop myself.
Callen looked between us. "Wonderful. You're agreeing now."
"We've found common ground," I said.
For a few seconds, it was easy. No careful words. No wondering where to put my hands or whether I was taking up too much space.
Then Kieran said, "You should consider it."
There was no challenge in his voice.
I looked at him. "Why?"
"You might surprise yourself."
He said it simply, as though the possibility didn't trouble him at all.
I glanced toward the practice ring. The wolf who had fallen was back on his feet, listening while his opponent showed him where he'd gone wrong.
"Maybe."
Callen went still.
I pointed at him. "Don't."
"I didn't say anything."
"You were about to."
He grinned.
I left before he could make maybe sound any more like a promise.
By the time I collected Lysandra's supplies, the training grounds had grown even busier.
I kept to the edge, balancing the basket against my hip.
"Elara."
Maera stood beside the weapons rack with two other she-wolves. Her hair was neatly tied back. Mine had been escaping its braid since breakfast.
Her gaze dropped to the basket.
"Still working?"
"Lysandra needed supplies."
"I thought you might have come to practice. For the tournament."
"I haven't entered."
"Ah." Her shoulders eased almost imperceptibly. "Probably wise."
I could have kept walking.
Instead, I stopped.
"Why?"
Maera glanced toward the practice rings.
"Some of these wolves have trained for combat since they were pups."
The handle pressed into my palm.
"I know."
"Practicing alone is different. You can get used to things that won't work against someone who knows what they're doing."
That was the irritating part.
She wasn't entirely wrong.
One of the wolves beside her shifted, looking away.
Maera's voice softened.
"I'd hate to see you get hurt trying to prove something."
"I'm not trying to prove anything."
"Then there's no reason to put yourself through it."
She smiled as though we had reached an agreement.
I wanted to tell her about Kieran. To watch that smile change.
The impulse embarrassed me more than anything she had said.
I adjusted the basket.
"Good luck, Maera."
Then I walked away.
For once, she let me.
On the path back, I rehearsed three better answers.
All of them were clever. None of them mattered now.
Eventually, I stopped arguing with a conversation that was already over.
Some of these wolves have trained for combat since they were pups.
I hadn't.
I had watched from the edges. Practiced movements alone until my muscles ached. Repeated the ones that felt wrong and hoped I wasn't teaching myself to make the same mistake more efficiently.
There had been nobody to correct me.
Nobody to tell me when I got something right, either.
I thought of the wolf in the practice ring, accepting a hand after he fell.
How would I compare?
Not to Maera, necessarily. Not even to Kieran.
To someone who stood in front of me and genuinely tried to win.
The question followed me all the way back to the hut.
Lysandra took one look at my face and set down her pestle.
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
She raised an eyebrow.
I put the basket on the table. "Maera thinks I shouldn't enter."
"Do you want to?"
"That wasn't what I said."
"I heard what you said."
She began unpacking the supplies. I helped, placing each item where it belonged with unnecessary care.
Finally, I pulled out the stool across from her.
"I don't know how strong I am."
Lysandra's hands stilled.
It sounded strange aloud. Conceited, perhaps, or foolish. I looked down at a loose thread on my sleeve.
"I know I haven't trained like the warriors. There are things they've been doing for years that I've barely tried. But when I knocked Kieran down…"
I tugged at the thread.
"I don't know how I did it."
Lysandra waited.
"What if it was luck?"
"Then you had a lucky moment."
"And if it wasn't?"
She set the last of the supplies aside.
I looked up.
"Lysandra?"
"I can't answer that for you."
Something in my chest sank. I hadn't realized how much I wanted her to.
"But you won't find out by doing the same things alone and asking yourself the same question afterward."
"So you think I should enter."
"I think you're curious."
"That isn't the same as being ready."
"No," she agreed.
The answer was inconvenient enough to make me frown.
Outside, someone called for Mira. The door opened and closed, admitting a brief rush of cool air.
I waited until the footsteps faded.
"What if I embarrass myself?"
Lysandra picked up the pestle again.
"Then come here afterward. There will still be work to do."
I stared at her.
"That's your comfort?"
"Would you prefer that I lie?"
"A little."
Her mouth twitched.
"Elara, you might lose. Someone might laugh. It will feel awful, and then it will pass."
I looked at the herbs beneath her hands.
She crushed them with a slow, steady motion.
"You don't have to enter," she continued. "But if you stay out, make sure it's because you don't want to fight."
I rubbed the loose thread between my fingers.
"And if I win?"
"Then I expect you'll be unbearable."
A laugh escaped me.
Lysandra smiled and pushed a bundle of herbs across the table.
"Until then, make yourself useful."
Registration closed at sunset.
I knew because I passed the table three times.
The first time, I was carrying water.
The second time, I took a longer route back to the hut than strictly necessary.
The third time, the wolf behind the table caught me looking.
"Registering?"
"No."
He nodded and returned to his list.
That was all.
No argument. No attempt to persuade me. I could walk away, and he would forget I had stopped.
I made it six steps.
You're doing it again.
My wolf's voice had lost its teasing edge.
What?
Leaving before anyone can see you try.
I stopped beside the fence.
Across the grounds, the last few wolves were putting away practice weapons. Someone was brushing dirt from another's back. The air had cooled, but the packed earth still held the warmth of the day.
I don't need to prove anything to them.
I didn't say you did.
I looked back at the table.
The registrar was sorting his papers.
For years, being overlooked had felt like something I was good at. Stay useful. Stay quiet. Don't give anyone a reason to expect more.
There was comfort in that.
There was also the walk home afterward, wondering what might have happened if I had stayed.
I was tired of that part.
Before I could find another reason to leave, I went back.
The registrar glanced up.
"Changed your mind?"
"Yes."
The word startled me.
He pulled the sheet closer. "Name?"
My mouth went dry.
There was still time. He hadn't written anything. I could tell him I'd misunderstood, or remembered something, or—
"Elara Hale."
His pen paused.
He looked up properly this time.
"You're entering?"
Heat crept up my neck.
"Yes," I said again, less comfortably.
He glanced at the sheet, then dipped his pen.
Such a small sound, the scratch of it across the page.
I watched until he finished.
Elara Hale.
The same ink as every other name.
I had expected it to look out of place.
My wolf stirred, warm and pleased.
There.
Don't sound so smug.
You're smiling.
I pressed my lips together.
The registrar held out a small marker.
"Match assignments will be posted tomorrow."
Tomorrow.
I accepted it before he could notice what that word had done to me.
"Thank you."
Then I turned.
"Well, well."
Of course.
Callen stood a few yards away, wearing a grin that suggested he had just been handed a gift. Kieran was beside him.
"I knew it," Callen said.
"You suspected loudly. It isn't the same thing."
"Close enough."
Kieran's gaze moved from the marker to my face.
"You entered."
"I'm beginning to understand that, yes."
His smile was small, but it made holding his gaze unexpectedly difficult.
Callen leaned sideways, trying to see the list.
"I should check whether she's really on there."
"Please do," I said. "Take your time."
He laughed, but wandered over to the table anyway.
Kieran stepped closer.
"Nervous?"
"No."
Elara.
"A little," I amended.
He nodded.
I turned the marker over in my hand. "You could look less unsurprised."
"Would that help?"
"Probably not."
"Then I'll save the effort."
I glanced up at him, and this time I managed to keep looking.
He hadn't asked whether I was certain. Hadn't reminded me who else had entered.
For a moment, I could almost believe my name belonged there.
Callen returned before the feeling had settled.
"Imagine if you two get matched."
My fingers closed around the marker.
Kieran looked at him. "You couldn't leave it alone."
"I'm considering the possibilities."
"Please," I said, "don't give the Moon ideas."
Callen's laughter followed me as I walked away.
I was smiling, which was annoying. He would take credit for it.
Beyond the training grounds, the path narrowed, and their voices faded behind me. I loosened my grip on the marker. Its edge had left a shallow line across my palm.
Tomorrow, I might be matched against someone who could put me on my back before I worked out where to place my feet.
I might lose.
I might find out exactly how much I still had to learn.
My stomach tightened at the thought, but beneath it was something I recognized from watching the practice ring that morning.
I wanted to know.
At the bend in the path, I looked back. The registrar was gathering his things. Somewhere among those papers was my name, and by tomorrow other wolves would be reading it.
I tucked the marker into my pocket and kept walking.
For once, being seen had been my choice.