Page 41 of Fat Forced Mate

She hisses but doesn't pull away. "Why are you helping me? I already told you I wouldn't give you a token."

I continue working, cleaning the wound thoroughly before applying more salve. "Maybe I'm just tired of fighting. Or maybe I remember what it's like to be hurt and have no one willing to help."

The barb lands; I see it in the way she flinches slightly.

"We weren't that bad," she mutters.

I look up at her in disbelief. "You poisoned my food with wolfsbane. I was sick for three days."

She has the grace to look uncomfortable. "We were kids. We wanted to see if you really had shifter blood.”

"You were eighteen, Melissa. Old enough to know better."

I finish bandaging her ankle with a strip of clean cloth from my pouch, working in silence for several minutes. When I'm done, I sit back on my heels.

"Try it now."

She stands cautiously, testing her weight on the injured leg. Surprise flickers across her face when it supports her with only minimal pain. "That's... actually better."

"The swelling should be gone by morning. Keep it clean and dry." I stand, brushing dirt from my knees. "Goodbye, Melissa."

I turn to leave, not expecting anything in return. I've made my peace with the fact that some people will never change, never see past what they've decided I am.

"Wait."

I pause, glancing back over my shoulder.

Melissa seems to be wrestling with herself, pride warring with some other emotion I can't quite identify. Finally, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a wooden token.

"Why?" I ask, genuinely confused. "You said—"

"I know what I said." She thrusts the token toward me. "Take it before I change my mind."

I accept it cautiously, half expecting some kind of trick. "Thank you."

She nods stiffly, then adds, "This doesn't make us friends."

"I know.”

A hint of a smile touches her lips, so brief I might have imagined it. "He was different after you left, you know."

The sudden shift in conversation catches me off guard. "What?"

"Nic. He was... darker. Angrier." She looks away, uncomfortable with the admission. "None of us understood why he cared so much about you leaving. You were just the witch-girl, the misfit." Her eyes find mine again. "But he did care. More than made sense to any of us."

The words settle like stones in my stomach. "It doesn't matter now."

"Doesn't it?" She studies me with surprising intensity. "The lottery chose you, out of everyone. That has to mean something."

"It means I have bad luck," I reply lightly, though my heart is racing.

She doesn't smile. "Maybe.”

With that single word, she limps away, leaving me standing in the fading afternoon light with her token clutched in my hand. My eleventh.

***

The sun hangs low in the sky as I make my way to Ruby's bookshop for what I hope will be my final token. The day has left me exhausted, my magic buzzing uncomfortably beneath myskin, and all I want is to curl up somewhere quiet and sleep for a week.

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