Devotion

POV: Alexandra

I woke the next morning, my chest tight and my thoughts heavy, as if I had spent the entire night wrestling with invisible chains. The first light of dawn filtered through the thin curtains, casting fragile golden lines across the room like the delicate threads of an unraveling tapestry. I could feel the burden of a kingdom’s hopes, fears, and expectations pressing down on my shoulders—a weight too immense to carry, yet one I had to bear while Garrett sought his place on the throne.

Pushing the tangled sheets aside, I sat up, my body still heavy with sleep. The cold touch of the wooden floor against my feet sent a shiver through me, jolting my senses awake. I glanced over to the other side of the bed, expecting to find the familiar silhouette of Garrett’s slumbering form. But instead, there was only a rumpled pillow and the empty, silent space where he should have been.

I looked to my bedside table and found a small folded note, its edges slightly crumpled as if it had been handled with care and hesitation. The soft morning light played across the parchment, giving it a warm, almost golden hue. My fingers trembled slightly as I picked it up, the familiar scrawl of Garrett’s handwriting greeting me before I even opened it. I inhaled deeply, bracing myself for whatever message he had left.

As I unfolded the note, I could almost feel his presence beside me, as if he were whispering the words directly into my ear.

“Alexandra,”

I could imagine him pausing after writing my name, the quill hovering above the paper, unsure of how to express what lay heavy in his heart.

“I got up early to make sure that you had a good breakfast waiting for you before you start your duties as Regent.”

The mention of breakfast made me glance around, half-expecting to see a tray laden with fruits, freshly baked bread, and a steaming pot of tea. The thought of him bustling around in the kitchen—a place he rarely ventured—brought a bittersweet smile to my lips.

“I felt bad that you have to take on my role, so I want to support you in whatever way I can while you assume that duty.”

I could almost hear the strain in his voice as I read the words, a note of regret mingled with determination. The corners of my eyes pricked with unshed tears. He didn’t just feel guilty—he felt helpless. Garrett had always been the steadfast one, the unshakable rock. And now, seeing him grapple with his own inadequacies, his desperation to make things easier for me, broke something fragile inside me.

“When you’re ready, please join me in the dining room,” the note continued, the curve of each letter speaking of his tenderness. I could almost hear the warmth in his voice, a gentle invitation wrapped in love and devotion. “I want to spoil my beautiful wife with the food that I’ve lovingly prepared for you.”

My heart fluttered as I read those words. I could picture him there, his brow furrowed in concentration as he attempted to cook, his hands—more accustomed to wielding swords and commanding armies—awkwardly handling delicate ingredients. He must have been up before dawn, fumbling around in the kitchen, determined to create something worthy of presenting to me.

A soft laugh escaped my lips, the sound carrying the weight of all my worries and leaving behind a lightness I hadn’t felt in days. The thought of Garrett, apron-clad and whispering to himself as he tried not to burn the toast, filled my chest with a profound sense of love and gratitude.

I traced the words with my fingertips, imagining his face as he wrote them—the sparkle in his eyes, the faint smile tugging at his lips. He had always known how to lift my spirits, even when everything seemed on the verge of falling apart.

“I’ll be right there, Garrett,” I murmured softly, as if he could hear me through the walls separating us. With a deep breath, I set the note down and pushed myself off the bed, feeling a renewed resolve. Today, I would face my responsibilities with a strength drawn not just from duty, but from the love and thoughtfulness of the man waiting for me downstairs.

I stood before the tall mirror, the weight of expectation pressing against my chest like a vice. I stood in the walk in closet attached to the bathroom. My fingers brushed over fabrics of various textures—velvet, silk, brocade—all in rich, vibrant colors. But today, I needed something more than just a dress. I needed armor, something to shield me against the uncertainty and whispers of doubt.

I settled on a deep crimson gown, its fabric shimmering faintly in the soft light of the room. As I slipped it over my head, the gown fell around me in elegant folds, the rich red hues pooling like liquid fire at my feet. The bodice hugged my frame snugly, accentuating my silhouette, while the long, flowing skirt billowed around me like a queen’s cape.

I ran my hands over the fabric, smoothing out invisible creases. Red—did it signify anything among the lycans? In Vellum, the royal family had its own symbolic color, but I didn’t know if Garrett’s people adhered to such traditions. Was I unknowingly stepping into a role I didn’t understand, or worse, making a misstep that could offend those I now had to guide?

With a sigh, I pushed the thought away. There was no time to second-guess myself now. Red would have to do. Besides, the color lent me a sense of fierce power, a reminder that beneath the fragile exterior of a queen stood the heart of a fighter.

I turned to the mirror again, appraising my reflection. My gaze moved to my hair, tumbling in loose waves around my shoulders. For a moment, I considered pulling it back, pinning it up in an intricate style that would add to my regal demeanor. But then I paused.

No, I decided. I would leave it down. It was a statement in itself—natural, unrestrained, and unapologetic. It was a small act of defiance, a declaration that I would not mold myself into something I wasn’t just to fit a role.

I took a deep breath, feeling the unfamiliar strength of the dress settle around me like a second skin. Then, with my head held high and my heart steady, I turned toward the door, ready to face whatever awaited me beyond it.

I ascended the grand staircase, my footsteps echoing softly against the polished wooden steps. The hem of my gown whispered against the floor, a soft rustling sound that mingled with the steady rhythm of my heartbeat. Each step carried me closer to the dining room, and with it, the faint, mouthwatering aroma of freshly baked bread and something sweet—cinnamon, perhaps?—drifted through the air. The scent enveloped me, warm and comforting, making the weight of the morning feel just a little bit lighter.

Rounding the corner, I paused at the entrance to the dining room, my eyes settling on Garrett. He stood beside the long wooden table, his tall muscular frame tense and fidgety. The sight made me pause. This was the same man who had faced countless enemies on the battlefield with unwavering courage, yet here he was, nervously shifting from one foot to the other, like a boy presenting his first bouquet of flowers.

The table between us was adorned with an array of breakfast dishes—golden pastries, sliced fruit arranged in intricate patterns, and a large pot of steaming tea. There was even a small bouquet of wildflowers nestled in the center, their delicate petals adding a touch of color to the otherwise rustic spread. It was simple, perhaps a little haphazard in its arrangement, but the thought and care behind it made it beautiful.

Garrett’s eyes met mine as I entered, and I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips. His gaze softened, a mixture of relief and anticipation flickering in his amber eyes. For a moment, the world around us seemed to blur, and all that remained was the two of us—husband and wife—caught in the quiet intimacy of this shared moment.

“You know you didn’t have to do this for me,” I murmured softly, my voice breaking the silence like the gentle ripple of a breeze over still water. There was a playful note beneath the words, but also genuine affection and gratitude.

He ran a hand through his tousled hair, the gesture so endearingly familiar that I felt a pang of tenderness. “I know, but I wanted to,” he replied, his voice low and earnest. “You’re doing so much, carrying so much, and I—” He faltered, glancing down at the table as if unsure of what to say next.

My smile widened as I closed the distance between us, reaching out to take his hand. “Garrett, this is more than enough,” I said softly, squeezing his fingers. “Just seeing you here, knowing you care... It means a lot more than I probably let on.”

A faint blush painted his cheeks at my words, the rosy hue spreading slowly across his face. It was subtle, barely noticeable against his tanned skin, but it made something warm bloom in my chest. Garrett, the fierce warrior who never flinched on the battlefield, was blushing because of me.

I couldn’t help the smile that curved my lips as I looked up at him, my gaze lingering on the softness in his eyes and the way his mouth twitched in a hesitant, almost shy grin. “You really have lightened my mood this morning, Garrett,” I murmured softly, my voice threading through the air like a gentle melody.

His eyes widened slightly, and he glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck in that endearing way he did whenever he felt out of his element. “I—well, I’m glad,” he stammered, his voice a low rumble that seemed almost too quiet for a man of his stature. He shifted his weight awkwardly, as if unsure what to do with himself, and the sight made my heart swell with affection.

“Honestly, I thought I’d just end up burning everything especially without Derum’s assistance. I made that meal for you the other night but he was there to help out,” he admitted with a sheepish chuckle, his gaze flickering back to me. “But seeing you smile like that... it makes all the failed attempts worthwhile.”

I reached up, brushing my fingers lightly over his cheek. The blush deepened under my touch, and I felt his breath hitch—a subtle, almost imperceptible sound that made me acutely aware of the space between us. “Well, you succeeded more than you know,” I whispered, my words carrying the weight of everything unspoken. “Thank you, Garrett. For this. For caring. For being you.”

His expression softened, the nervousness fading as he cupped my hand in his, his thumb caressing my knuckles in a slow, gentle motion. “You don’t have to thank me, Alexandra. Just being here with you is all I’ve wanted for so very long. I’m happy to wake up next to you and put a smile on your face when it feels like you’re carrying a heavy burden.”

It was now my turn to blush, the heat rushing to my cheeks and spreading like a slow, warm tide. I looked down, letting my gaze fall to where our hands were still entwined, unable to hold his gaze any longer. Here stood a man who was completely, unconditionally devoted to me, and he had no qualms about showing it or saying it. No hesitation, no walls, no barriers—just raw, open sincerity.

As much as I had loved Lucien—still loved him, in ways that would never truly fade—he had never been this unburdened, this free. With him, there had always been a sense of restraint, an invisible chain pulling him back, tethering his emotions. Lucien was, first and foremost, the King of Vellum. His every word, every action, was scrutinized and weighed against propriety and royal expectations. Even in the quiet moments we’d shared, the love between us had been shadowed by the ever-present weight of his responsibilities.

I could see him now, that familiar furrow between his brows as he worried about optics, about what the court would think, about how every tiny gesture might ripple out to affect the realm. He had wanted to give me his heart fully, but it was as if it had been bound in iron chains, every beat regulated by duty. He hadn’t chosen it—his crown had.

But Garrett… Garrett was different. He didn’t have to think of those things. He didn’t have to measure every smile or calculate each step like a piece on a chessboard. He simply felt. And when he looked at me, it was with a clarity and intensity that made my breath hitch in my throat, as if I were the only person in his world. It was a love unrestrained by titles, unbound by expectations—a love that was both exhilarating and terrifying in its purity.

I knew it wasn’t Lucien’s fault. He had been shaped by the crown, molded by its relentless demands until he’d become a reflection of its will. He had loved me with everything he could give, but there had always been a part of him that remained closed off—a part reserved for the kingdom. That was something Garrett didn’t have to contend with, and I couldn’t help but feel both guilty and grateful for it.

I glanced up at Garrett again, my blush still lingering. His eyes, those deep amber pools, were filled with so much warmth and hope, like the sun breaking through a stormy sky. He wasn’t holding anything back. He never did.

“Garrett…” I breathed softly, the name a fragile whisper between us. “You make it so easy to forget the world outside. So easy to just… be.”

He tilted his head, a gentle smile curving his lips. “Maybe that’s because the world doesn’t matter when I’m with you,” he said, his voice steady and sincere. “It’s just you and me, Alexandra. And that’s all I need.”

A soft, incredulous laugh bubbled up inside me, and I shook my head. How did he manage to say the simplest things in a way that made me feel like I was soaring? Like I was weightless? I didn’t have an answer, but I didn’t need one. I just knew that, for this moment, I didn’t have to carry the weight of the kingdom or the shadows of the past. For this moment, I could simply be myself, standing in the light of his unwavering love.

And with that, I leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, my heart fluttering wildly as his eyes widened in surprise and delight. He might not be a king, but in this instant, he was more than that—he was my sanctuary and for that I was eternally grateful.