RAVEN’S POV

The herb garden is usually Maya’s sanctuary.

I find her there at dusk. Kneeling between rows of lavender and chamomile. Her hands working the soil.

She doesn’t look up when I approach. Just keeps digging.

“Maya?”

She flinches. Her head snaps up.

Her eyes are red. Swollen. She’s been crying.

“Oh.” Her voice cracks. “It’s you. The new girl. Raven, right?”

I nod. My throat tight.

She looks back down at the herbs. Her hands shaking slightly.

“Sorry. I’m not…I’m not good company right now.”

“I can go.”

“No.” She says quickly. Desperate. “Please. Stay. I just… I need someone. Anyone.”

I sink my knees down beside her. Careful to keep distance.

Maya pulls a weed absent mindedly. Then another.

“This was her garden,” she says quietly. “Luna’s. Well. Would-be Luna’s. Mia. She loved growing things. Said it made her feel connected to the earth, and the Moon Goddess.”

My chest aches.

“She sounds like she was special.”

“She was.” Maya’s voice breaks. “She was my best friend. My sister in everything. And now she’s just…gone.”

A sob drops from her eyes.

She presses her hand to her mouth. Trying to hold it in.

But she can’t.

She breaks down. Shoulder shaking. Tears flowing.

I don’t think. I just reach out. Put my hand on her shoulder.

She turns into me. Sobbing against my shoulder.

I hold her. My own tears threatening to break out.

But I can’t cry. Not as Raven. Raven didn’t know Luna.

So I just hold my best friend while she breaks.

“I should have noticed,” Maya gasps between sobs. “I should have seen something was wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

She pulls back. Wipes her face with shaking hands.

“The tea.” She sniffles. “On the day of the mating ceremony, I was supposed to bring Mia her mother’s tea. I always did. It was our tradition.”

My heart stops.

“But while I was in the room, she already had tea.” Maya’s eyes are distant. Like she’s remembering something. “Amara was there. She said she’d brought it for good luck. To be helpful.”

Oh Goddess.

“I didn’t think anything of it,” Maya continues. “Amara was her friend. Why would I question it? But then Mia collapsed and I kept thinking…the tea. The timing. It was wrong.”

“Wrong how?”

“The blend.” Maya looks at me. Her eyes sharp now despite the tears. “Only Mia and I had access to her mother’s herbs. Special blend her mother created. I kept it locked in my personal stores. No one else knew where it was.”

“Maybe Amara asked for it?”

“She didn’t.” Maya shakes her head. “I checked my stores after the funeral. Nothing was missing. Which means Amara brought her own tea. In Mia’s mother’s cup. And made it look like the special blend.”

The pieces click together. Sickening. But clear.

Amara brought her own tea. Poisoned tea. And served it in mother’s cup to look authentic.

And no one questioned it because really - why would they?

“Did you tell anyone?” I ask carefully.

“I tried.” Maya begins twisting her hands in her laps. “I went to the Alpha. Told him about the tea. About the timeline being wrong. He said I was just looking for someone to blame because grief needed a target. That Amara would never hurt Mia.”

Of course he did.

Because Damien doesn’t want to believe his new lover is a murderer.

“The healer says it was her heart,” Maya continues. “That sometimes wolves just…break. Especially during high stress. The ceremony. Or even the pressure of becoming Luna.”

“Do you believe that?”

Maya looks at me carefully.

“No,” she whispers. “I don’t. I think someone killed her. And I think I know who.”

My wolf goes still.

“But I can’t prove it,” Maya says, voice breaking again. “I have no evidence. Just suspicion and a feeling and a timeline that doesn’t make sense. Who would believe me?”

“I believe you.”

The words come out before I can stop them.

Maya blinks. Surprised.

“You don’t even know what happened.”

“I know enough.” I choose my words very carefully. “I know that you loved her. That you paid attention. That you’re not crazy or grief-stricken or looking for who to blame.”

“You really think someone kills her?”

“I think people are capable of terrible things when they want something badly enough.”

Maya stares at me. Something flickering in her eyes.

Recognition? No. Not quite.

“You remind me of her,” she says softly. “Of Mia. You’re kind like she was. Fierce underneath. She would have liked you.”

The words jam into me like a physical blow.

I can’t speak.

Maya reaches out. Squeezes my hand.

“Thank you,” she says. For listening. For not thinking I’m insane.”

“You’re not insane.”

“Sometimes I think I see her. In the gardens. In the halls. Like she’s still here. Still trying to tell me something.”

My throat closes.

“Maybe she is,” I whisper.

Maya doesn’t hear me. She’s already pulling another weed. Working through her grief the only way she knows how to.

I should get going. Back to my kitchen duties.

But I can’t leave her like this.

So I stay.

I help her tend the herbs while we work in silence. Two wolves trying to make sense of death and loss.