ARIA NIGHTINGALE

The smell hit me first when I pushed open the door to our cottage. It was the kind of smell that made your stomach turn and your heart sink all at once. Sweet and sour, like fruit left too long in the sun, but underneath it was something else. Something that reminded me of the time I found a dead rabbit in the woods, all bloated and wrong.

Papa was getting worse.

I set down the basket of herbs I'd gathered from the forest and tried to breathe through my mouth instead of my nose. The cottage felt smaller somehow, like the walls were pressing in. Papa lay on his cot by the window, his breathing shallow and quick. His skin had taken on a yellowish tint that made my chest tight with panic.

"Papa?" I whispered, kneeling beside him.

His eyes fluttered open. They were the same warm brown they'd always been, but now they seemed sunken, like someone had pushed them too far back into his skull.

"Aria." His voice was barely more than a whisper. "You're back."

I forced a smile. "I found some feverfew and willow bark. Maybe we can make another tea."

He tried to sit up but couldn't manage it. I helped him, my hands shaking as I felt how little he weighed now. It was like holding a bundle of sticks wrapped in skin.

"The tea isn't working anymore, little star." Papa had called me that since I was small. Said I was the brightest thing in his dark world. "We both know it."

I wanted to argue, but the words stuck in my throat. He was right. The herbs weren't helping. Nothing I tried was helping. Papa had the wasting sickness, the one that hit Omega werewolves when their bodies gave up fighting. I'd seen it before in other families. It always ended the same way.

"There has to be something else we can try," I said, even though I didn't believe it myself.

Papa's hand found mine. His fingers were cold and thin. "Aria, listen to me. You need to think about what happens next. About what you'll do when I'm—"

"Don't." The word came out sharper than I meant it to. "Just don't say it."

We sat in silence for a while. Outside, I could hear Mrs. Chen's chickens clucking in her yard and the sound of children playing in the street. Normal sounds. Sounds from a world where fathers didn't waste away while their daughters watched helplessly.

A knock at the door broke through my thoughts. I opened it to find Constance, the pack healer, all the way from the royal family estate, standing on our doorstep. She was an older woman with gray-streaked hair and hands that always smelled like medicinal herbs. She'd been coming by every few days to check on Papa, though we all knew there wasn't much she could do.

"How is he today?" she asked, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

"The same," I lied. He was worse, but I couldn't say it out loud.

Constance moved to Papa's bedside with the easy confidence of someone who'd seen this too many times. She placed her hand on his forehead, checked his pulse, listened to his breathing. Her face didn't change, but I saw something flicker in her eyes.

"Magnus," she said to Papa, "I need to speak with your daughter."

Papa nodded and closed his eyes. I followed Constance outside, my heart pounding so hard I was sure she could hear it.

"How long?" I asked once we were out of earshot.

"Weeks. Maybe two months if he's lucky." She didn't try to soften it. I appreciated that, even though it felt like she'd punched me in the stomach.

"There's nothing? No medicine, no treatment?"

"There is, but it's expensive. More expensive than you could ever afford." Constance studied my face. "There's a new treatment that comes from the capital. It doesn't cure the wasting sickness, but it can slow it down. Give him years instead of weeks."

"How expensive?"

"Fifty gold pieces. For the first month alone."

I felt the world tilt sideways. Fifty gold pieces. Papa and I barely scraped together five silver pieces in a good month. It might as well have been five hundred. Or five thousand.

"I see." My voice sounded strange, like it was coming from far away.

"Aria." Constance put her hand on my shoulder. "I know this is hard to hear, but there might be a way."

I looked up at her, hope flaring in my chest like a struck match.

"I'm leaving tomorrow for Blackthorn Pack. There's an opening for an Omega worker in the royal household. The pay is good. Very good. Enough to afford the treatment your father needs. Especially considering the position open is for the servant house of the Alpha Blood."

Blackthorn Pack. Even the name made my skin crawl. Everyone knew about Alpha Kaelen and his nature. Everyone knew about the royal family and their reputation for cruelty.

"I could take you with me," Constance continued. "If you're interested."

My mouth went dry. "Work for the Blackthorn royals?"

"It's honest work. Cleaning, cooking, general household duties. And like I said, the pay would be enough to save your father's life."

I thought about Papa lying in that bed, getting weaker by the hour. I thought about the smell in our cottage and the way his breathing sounded like paper rustling in his chest.

"I'll think about it," I said.

Constance nodded. "I leave at dawn. If you decide to come, meet me at the crossroads outside town."

She left me standing in front of our cottage, my mind spinning with possibilities and fears. Five hundred gold pieces. Enough to save Papa's life. All I had to do was work for the family that had slaughtered my people.

I went back inside to find Papa awake and watching me with those sunken brown eyes.

"What did she want to talk about?" he asked.

I told him everything. About the treatment, about the cost, about Constance's offer. With each word, I watched his face grow paler.

"No," he said when I finished. "Absolutely not."

"Papa, it's the only way—"

"I said no, Aria." His voice carried more strength than it had in days. "You cannot go to Blackthorn Pack. You cannot work for those people."

"Why not? It's just household work. I can clean and cook. I've been doing it here for years."

Papa struggled to sit up higher. "You don't understand. You can't understand because I never told you the whole truth about your mother."

My heart stopped. Papa never talked about Mama. Never. I knew she'd died when I was a baby, but that was all. Whenever I asked questions, he'd change the subject or find some chore for me to do.

"What about Mama?"

"She was a witch, Aria. A powerful one. She could heal people with just a touch, make plants grow in winter, see things that hadn't happened yet." Papa's eyes were bright with unshed tears. "Alpha Kaelen killed her. During his crusade. I found her body in the woods outside our old village."

The words hit me like a physical blow. My mother. A witch. Murdered by the man whose house Constance wanted me to work in.

"But Papa," I whispered, "if she was a witch, then I—"

"You have the gift too. I've always known. The way plants grow better around you, the way you always know when storms are coming, the way you can sense people's emotions." He reached for my hand. "That's why you can never go to Blackthorn Pack. If they discover what you are, they'll kill you just like they killed her."

I stared at him, my mind reeling. Everything made sense now. The strange feelings I got sometimes, the way I could make wilted flowers bloom again when no one was looking, the dreams that sometimes came true. I'd always pushed those things away, told myself I was imagining them.

"I've kept it hidden all my life," I said slowly. "Even from my friends. Even from you, mostly. I thought I was going crazy."

"You're not crazy. You're with power. And that makes you dangerous to people like Alpha Kaelen."

I stood up and walked to the window. Outside, the sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Somewhere out there was Blackthorn Pack and fifty gold pieces and the chance to save Papa's life.

"What if they don't find out?" I asked. "What if I'm careful?"

"Aria, no. I won't let you risk your life for me."

"And I won't let you die when I can save you." I turned back to face him. "Papa, I've been hiding what I am for many years. I did not even realize you knew what was happening with me. I can hide it for a few more months."

"The royal court is different. They have ways of testing people, of finding out secrets. And Alpha Draven..." Papa shuddered. "They say he's cursed. Blind and strange. But sensitive because of the curse the witch Supreme cast on his family. Who knows what he might be able to sense."

"I'll be careful. I'll keep my head down, do my work, and come home with enough money to make you well."

We argued for another hour, but I could see Papa getting weaker with each word. Finally, he fell back against his pillow, exhausted.

"You're as stubborn as your mother was," he said softly.

"Is that a yes?"

Papa closed his eyes. "Goddess help us both, but yes. If you're determined to do this, then go. Just... promise me you'll be careful. Promise me you won't take any risks."

"I promise."

That night, I lay awake staring at the ceiling. Every few minutes, I'd hear Papa's labored breathing from across the room and remember why I was doing this. Fifty gold pieces. A chance to save his life.

When the moon was high, I crept out of bed and made my way through the village to the house where Constance was staying. I could see light flickering through the windows and heard voices inside. She was treating someone else, probably another villager who couldn't afford to travel to the capital for proper medical care.

I waited outside for what felt like hours until the door finally opened and an old man hobbled out, his arm in a fresh sling. Constance appeared in the doorway a moment later.

"Aria?" She looked surprised to see me. "What are you doing here so late?"

"I want to come with you tomorrow. To Blackthorn Pack."

She studied my face in the moonlight. "Are you sure? It's not an easy life, working in the royal household. They have high standards and little patience for mistakes."

"I'm sure."

"And your father agreed to this?"

"Yes." It wasn't exactly a lie. He had agreed, eventually.

Constance nodded slowly. "Very well. Meet me at the crossroads at dawn. Bring only what you can carry in one bag. And Aria?" She put her hand on my shoulder. "Whatever you think you know about Blackthorn Pack, whatever stories you've heard, the reality is probably worse. You have to keep your head down, do your work, and don't draw attention to yourself."

"I understand."

I walked home through the quiet streets, my heart pounding with fear and determination in equal measure. In a few hours, I'd be leaving everything I'd ever known to work for the family that had destroyed mine.

But Papa would live. That was all that mattered.

Papa would live.