A retelling of Haddon’s Dragonsbane poisoning in Chapters 12 &13 of Dragon and the Beast, as told from Wyatt’s perspective.

And if you want to find out how his twin reacts to what Wyatt reveals, check out Zane’s Story

 ***

Wyatt wasn’t sure how he and Zane got roped into weeding the kitchen vegetable patch. They’d been sent to this secluded manor to protect a princess and find help find a cure for the curse besieging the Royal Palace of Ardell.

Yet, here he was, on his knees in the dirt, rooting unwanted plants under Nanna’s watchful eye and exacting standards.

Wyatt was about to beg for a break in the shade with a large glass of water when the shouting started.

All three of them turned to stare up at the tower. Pip stood on the top of looming structure, her eyes trained on the sky as she cried out again.

“Haddon!”

The sleek bronze shape of Haddon’s dragon shape sliced across the horizon. But it wasn’t anything like the graceful flight Wyatt was used to seeing from a drake in full form.

The beat of wings looked sluggish and uncertain, shifting Haddon’s bulk off balance. He twisted in the air, plummeting several feet before catching an updraft that righted him momentarily.

“Haddon!” Pip screamed into the sky, panic raw and stark in the echoing sound.

It got Haddon’s attention, though. His wedge-shaped head jerked up, and he set himself into a steep dive for the top of the tower.

Too hard. Too fast. The huge body landed awkwardly, stumbling and contorting his wings, in a futile fight for balance. Crying out in pain when he crashed against the unforgiving stone of the rooftop.

Nanna made a choked, worried noise and darted into the house.

The sound spurred Wyatt into action, the need to help his friend overcoming the moment of shock. With Zane right behind, he raced for the path that led to the garden gate and the tower beyond.

By the time Wyatt and Zane reached the front of the house, Nanna was running down the steps, clutching a heavy satchel to her chest.

Harper was right behind her, a wicked looking crossbow in her hands.

Despite his desperation, Wyatt hesitated as soon as he stepped into the garden. The bland sweetness of the flowers hung in the air. And the overwhelming hum of magic shivered along his senses, reminding him of Pip’s warning the first day.

“The magic that has seeped into the plants is wild and uncertain. I have no idea what will happen if you get too close.”

Harper grabbed Wyatt’s arm, shaking him from momentary uncertainty.

“You and Zane get Nanna up to the tower to help Pip with Haddon. I’m going to check the gate and the defenses.” She hefted the crossbow with grim determination. “Make sure if anyone is following Haddon, they think twice about trying to get in.”

With a deep breath, he nodded and led the way toward the tower as quickly, and carefully, as possible.

***

Wyatt came through the roof hatch first, finding a panicked Pip. She was calling Haddon’s name over and over like a plea while her delicate hands pressed tightly over his wounds. Overlaying the bland sweetness drifting up from the garden, the sharp tang of copper stung the air from the blood still seeping sluggishly between Pips fingers.

Then he turned back to offer Nanna his hand as she climbed up the rickety ladder. As soon as she cleared the ledge, Nanna rushed over to kneel across from Pip.

Zane clambered up right behind her, carrying the overstuffed bag of herbs and healing poultices she’d brought from the house.

“What happened? How bad are the injuries?”

“He landed with two arrows in him. They fell out when he changed back.” Pip waved haphazardly across the roof. “He’s still bleeding, he won’t wake up, and his fever is climbing already.”

Fear trembled in Pips voice and panic pushed the words out in a fast-paced ramble.

Wyatt stayed on guard by the hatch while Zane set the bag beside the women and hurried over to check the two arrows.

“It’s going to be fine. We’ll take care of him,” Nanna promised, pulling bandages, wadding, herbal sachets and bottles from her satchel. “Let me see his leg.”

Pip moved her hand away from his thigh, looking reluctant and scared.

Nanna gently cleaned the injuries before covering them with wadding and bandages.

“The wounds aren’t deep,” Nanna announced when she was finished. “His scales must have protected him from the worst of the barbs.”

Nanna paused to wave a vial of smiling salts under Haddon’s nose before continuing her grim assessment.  “There’s a dark and sticky substance in both of them. The arrows must have been coated with something. It’s interfering with his natural healing.”

Wyatt inhaled sharply and realized the bland sweet scent was too strong to be from the garden below. It was here, on the rooftop. The familiar odor of…

“Dragonsbane,” Zane snarled from where he knelt and held up one the arrow in disgust. “A lot of it. I can smell it over the blood.”

The mellow sugar scent was nothing like wolfsbane’s sharp-bitter-burning. But the mention of poison swamped Wyatt with memories he’d spent years trying to forget.

A phantom agony pulse in the small scar on his face. And the wider one beneath his ribs. Wyatt felt the burn of long-forgotten fever-burn surging through his veins.

Haddon moaned, pulling Wyatt from the maelstrom of past pain.

“I tangled with wolfsbane once.” The words spilled out before he could think better of it. Wyatt smiled bitterly, fighting to keep the admission sound offhand and benign. His finger traced over the scar over his eyebrow, and he fought to keep his hand steady.

“I was sick for weeks after. Took six months to heal completely. And burned like acid nearly every day of that.”

Zane went unnaturally still, staring a Wyatt. His eyes wide and searching, filled with surprise and hurt and questions.

Because Wyatt had never talked about the scar. Or how he got it. Never mentioned those few months when they’d been separated after the unsettling experience of the moon temple. Had kept it all a secret, even from the brother he told everything.

Wyatt moved to crouch down next to his twin and took the arrow carefully, examining it closely. He focused intently on every detail, using the intense focus as an excuse to avoid eye contact. To avoid explaining… anything about those months to Zane.

“I don’t know how Dragonsbane works but the dose on this is a whole lot more than the drop that was on the knife that got me,” Wyatt finally said.

No one spoke for a moment as that sank in until Nanna broke the silence by asking what everyone else was thinking.

“Is there a cure?”

Wyatt shook his head, remember the weeks of pain, the sensation of dying by inches. He swallowed back the hopeless, helpless dread that threatened once again to overwhelm him.

“The only thing that made a difference for me was the the full moon. I slept outside all night, each month under its light. I don’t think drakes have the same relationship to the moon, though.”

He hadn’t decided to sprawl out under the moonlight hoping for a cure that first night. He’d lain down expecting to die.

“Sea Clan,” Haddon rasped, eyes fighting their way open shoulders shaking as he struggled to sit up.

“Don’t move,” Pip insisted, pushing him back with care. “You need to rest.”

Haddon coughed, body quaking and pain carving creases in his forehead. He stopped fighting Pip, but still labored to get words out.

“The Sea Clan has an antidote.”

Happy to have a purpose, a direction, anything to draw him out of the dangerous thoughts threatening to pull him under, Wyatt jumped to volunteer immediately.

“It will take us days to get there and back,” he mused as he got to his feet.

“With this fever, I don’t know if he has days,” Nanna warned.

“Then we’d better start now,” Zane said grimly.

“I might know a way to help,” Pip announced, looking both uncertain and determined. Trembling, she took Haddon’s hand and stared down into his eyes.

“You’re going to have to trust me, though. I know you’re not comfortable with magic. Especially when it’s used on you. But if you just–”

“I trust you,” Haddon interrupted, squeezing her hand and smiling tightly through his pain.

Pip brushed a kiss over his brow.

“I’ll be right back,” she promised, before rushing to the hatch.

Wyatt watched Pip disappear down into the tower. Trying, and failing, to ignore the weight of his brother’s contemplative stare.

But he felt the silent, insistent questions Zane would never ask. Had never asked. His twin had always understood there were things Wyatt needed to keep buried deep.

Just this once, Wyatt wished his brother would push him. Would disregard his boundaries and just ask.

Because Wyatt didn’t have the words. Didn’t know where to start.

As alike as they were, they were also very different.

Zane would try to understand what had driven Wyatt, but he never could. Zane had embraced the wolf. He’d been excited by the possibilities. By the potential of what they’d become.

After the pack had split up, Zane had wanted to know more about what they were. How they could gain even more control and advantage. Then they’d stumbled over a rumor of a Merchant-Baron who was auctioning a rare book on the magic of shapeshifting. Zane had been eager to get his hands on the information.

Wyatt, however, had had a much different plan.

Clearing his throat of the fear clogging it, Wyatt’s voice sounded unnaturally loud when he spoke into the silence.

“When you went to Obel City in search of the book, I couldn’t go with you.”

Zane frowned, considering. Staring at Wyatt with the same confused acceptance he’d worn when Wyatt first suggested they go their separate ways for a while.

“You wanted to split up. Me to the city, and you in search of some secret cult you’d heard about. One who were rumored to know secrets about the temple.”

Wyatt grimaced, guilt twisting painfully in his chest.

“I lied. There was no cult. There were no rumors.”

Zane’s mouth tightened, his voice edged with anger and hurt when he demanded, “Then where did you go?”

Wyatt forced himself to meet his brother’s eyes. Steeled himself for a reaction he couldn’t begin to predict. “I went in search of a way to get rid of the wolf.”

Shock and bewilderment froze Zane’s expression in a twist of confusion.

“Why?”

His brother would never understand. Zane couldn’t fathom the idea of being separated from the wolf. Would never comprehend how Wyatt had felt in those first years. But he had to try to explain, anyway.

“Because I hated it. I hated the loss of control. Hated feeling tricked. Jerked around by magic I didn’t understand.”

Wyatt sighed at his brother’s perplexed frown and shrugged, trying one last time to explain how he’d felt in that first year. “You embraced our new nature from the first. I fought it. Every time.”

For a long silent moment, Zane stared in consideration. Then he asked quietly, “Did you not find a way to escape the wolf? Or did you change your mind?”

Wyatt smiled, tight and self-mocking. “Both.”

Zane tilted his head, waiting expectantly for explanation and Wyatt sighed.

“My search eventually led me to a hermit. The locals praised him as a wise man. The tales claimed he was an ascetic who’d eschewed his life of magic for a simpler life alone.”

Wyatt shifted his gaze, unable to meet his brother’s eyes.

“He told me he could help me. That he could teach me to free myself from the wolf that burdened my soul.”

Wyatt should have known better. But he’d ignored the instincts of the wolf. Ignored the scent of anticipation the rolled through the air when Wyatt explained about his other form.

Ignored the lies betrayed by the hermit’s heartbeat every time the man made an empty promise.

He’d wanted to believe so badly, Wyatt convinced himself the wolf was trying to trick him. That it would do anything to protect himself.

Now, he knew better. The wolf was no more separate from him than his own right hand.

He was the wolf. And the wolf was him.

“For weeks, I did everything he asked of me. Hours of labor chopping wood and hauling casks from a spring on the other side of the mountain. Fasting for days on end. Staying up all night in silent, focused vigil.”

Wyatt should have seen it then. Should have understood the true purpose of the tasks set for him.

“On a moonless night, he said I was ready to fight the wolf.” Wyatt’s lips twisted bitterly at his eager gullibility. “He offered me a cup of some strange tea and said the herbs would give me strength and focus.”

“It didn’t, did it?” Zane asked, voice a quiet rasp of certainty.

“No. No it didn’t. I’d already let myself be weakened from exhaustion and hunger. The concoction made me dizzy and disoriented.”

Heat flooded his skin at the bone-deep embarrassment engulfing him. He’d been so stupid. Had fallen so easily for the man’s scheme. He’d left himself vulnerable and open to manipulation.

“That’s when he attacked. All the while gloating about how he used unsuspecting seekers for a blood ritual that had extended his existence well beyond any natural lifespan. And he was sure the magic of werewolf blood would keep him going for another century, at least.”

Wyatt would never forget the burn of the blade as bit into his skin.

“The hermit miscalculated, though. I don’t know if he was too impatient or if he underestimated the extra edge the wolf gave me. Or if he just believed the dark moon would weaken me further. Whatever his mistake, I still had enough focus and strength to fight him off and transform.”

“You were hurt though,” Zane said.

“Yes. He got me a couple times with the wolfsbane knife. It burned like nothing I’ve experienced before or since,” Wyatt’s hand pressed against his ribs without thought. Phantom pain aching in the scar he still bore. “The wounds weren’t fatal, but they refused to heal. And fever set in almost immediately.”

Everything after was a blur of agony and confusion. A foggy recollection of running through forest, crossing streams, hunting on instinct. It felt like forever, like years and lifetimes, though Wyatt knew now it couldn’t have been more than a couple of weeks.

“How did you know the full moon would heal you?” Zane asked. Guilt and frustration and hurt and relief twisted and chased themselves across his expression while his eyes locked on to Wyatt.

“I didn’t. I was just too out of it to do anything else.” Wyatt admitted, delicately skirting the edges of the truth.

By then, he’d been so consumed with fever and pain, Wyatt had only been able to flop in the grass and let it cool the heat coursing through him. He’d been sure he was at the end. That he wouldn’t survive another night.

But he’d dreamed of healing and hope.

“When I woke in the morning, the wounds were still there but the pain had receded slightly. And, more importantly, the fever had broken. I spent the next few months healing in solitude. Making sure that I spent every full moon outside under the open sky.”

He should have gone looking for Zane as soon as his mind was clear. Instead, he’d stayed hidden and waited until nothing remained of his ordeal but the scars.

Partly because the slowed healing held him back. And partly because Wyatt hadn’t wanted to face his brother until he was whole again.

Hadn’t wanted his brother to know what had happened to him. Hadn’t wanted Zane to know how much of a fool he’d been.

Or admit to the crazy, unsettling dreams.

But now that he’d shared part of the story, Wyatt didn’t want to keep any more secrets from his twin.

“It wasn’t the attack, or the healing that changed my mind about keeping the wolf though,” Wyatt admitted quietly. “When I was hurt… when the moon healed me, I saw things.”

“Like hallucinations from the fever?” Zane asked, eyes pinched in confusion.

“I thought so, the first time.” Wyatt took a deep breath and plunged on, knowing it would be hard to believe. And yet knowing it was time to share the truth, anyway.

“But the fever was gone after that first night. And I kept having visions every full moon.”

“What kind of visions?” Zane asked and Wyatt was relieved his brother sounded more curious and intrigued than doubtful. It was nice to know his twin still had that kind of unwavering faith in him.

“A woman in white. Glowing like the moon. She said the same thing every time. That the wolfkin had a purpose, once. When they’d fulfilled that purpose, they faded from the world. Now time has turned full circle and we’ve been returned because the need for us has returned, as well.”

Zane stared at him with incredulousness and Wyatt fought the urged to wince or fidget beneath the scrutiny.

Then his twin smirked and relief threaded through his heart.

“So, you have a higher purpose then? I thought you outgrew your aspiration to become a Paladin when we started hunting treasure.”

Wyatt rolled his eyes, but his body finally relaxed under Zane’s teasing tone.

“I still think I’d look good in the armor,” he answered with a shrug. “But its not just me she was talking about. It was all of us. The pack.”

Zane’s amusement dipped into a faint frown.

“Do you think it’s this? That our purpose is to help stop Velia?”

Wyatt wished he could say yes. But deep down, he knew it wasn’t true. “No. Something else is coming.”

He braced himself for the barrage of questions. Before Zane could ask the first one, however, Harper clattered out of the roof hatch and their attention was directed once again to the problems at hand.

Want more? Check out the Extras page for more outtakes and excerpts!