Chapter 5 CHAPTER 5
Tessa’s POV
I stared at her, my heart picking up speed again.
"I... I don't understand. Why?"
Meira's gaze didn't waver.
"Because you survived him."
The words settled over me like ice water.
Survived.
Past tense. As if the fact that I was breathing was some kind of miracle.
"The Lycan King," she continued, her voice dropping lower. "You survived a night with him."
My fingers twisted in the sheets. I wanted to look away, to disappear, but I couldn't move.
"The rumors are true, child." Meira moved closer, her expression grave. "No woman he's taken to his bed has lived to see morning. Not one."
The room tilted slightly. I gripped the edge of the blanket to steady myself.
No one survives.
"There is one exception," Meira added carefully. "His mistress, Lady Kira. But she's a Lycan herself, powerful bloodline, nearly as strong as him. And even she..." The healer's mouth pressed into a thin line. "Even she suffers greatly each time he touches her. The healers are always called afterward. Always."
My throat closed up.
If a Lycan can barely survive him, then how—
"But you?" Meira's eyes searched my face, looking for something. "You're fragile. Wolfless, if the reports are correct."
I flinched at the word. Wolfless. The brand I'd carried my whole life.
"You shouldn't be alive right now," she said quietly. "And yet here you are. Battered, yes. Traumatized, certainly. But alive."
I couldn't speak. Couldn't think past the roaring in my ears.
I should be dead.
The nightmare flashed through my mind—his claws, his beast, the feeling of being torn apart from the inside.
I had died. I was sure of it.
So why was I still here?
"What..." My voice cracked. I tried again. "What does that mean?"
Meira shook her head slowly, that same puzzled expression returning to her weathered face.
"I don't know, child." She moved to the table, her fingers trailing absently over her collection of vials and herbs. "I've examined you thoroughly, checked for traces of magic, rare bloodlines, hidden abilities—anything that might explain it."
My heart hammered. "And?"
"Nothing." She turned back to me, and there was genuine confusion in her eyes. "You're perfectly ordinary. No wolf. No magic. No exceptional healing factor." She paused. "Though I will say, your body has responded to treatment remarkably well. Better than it should have, given the extent of your injuries."
Ordinary. There was that word again.
"But that's not enough," Meira continued, her brow furrowing. "It doesn't explain why you're breathing when you shouldn't be."
I pulled the blanket tighter around myself, suddenly cold despite the fire.
"There's something else." Meira's voice shifted, becoming careful. Deliberate. "When I bathed you, cleaned your wounds... I noticed certain inconsistencies."
My blood turned to ice.
"Your hair." Her eyes locked onto mine. "The dye is already fading at the roots. Brown, not blonde. And your eyes—the pigment is uneven. Blue covering green."
No. No, no, no—
Panic clawed up my throat. I opened my mouth, but no words came.
"You're in disguise," Meira said quietly. "Aren't you?"
The room spun. My hands trembled against the blanket.
"Please." The word burst out of me, desperate and broken. "Please, don't tell him. Please. I—I didn't have a choice. My father, he made me—" My voice cracked. "If he finds out I'm not who he thinks I am, he'll kill me. Please, I'm begging you—"
Meira raised one hand, and I fell silent.
"Child." Her voice was gentle now, almost motherly. "I won't tell him."
I stared at her, hardly daring to breathe.
"I won't," she repeated firmly. "Whatever deception brought you here, it's not my place to unravel it." Her expression softened. "You've suffered enough."
The relief hit me so hard I nearly sobbed.
"Thank you," I whispered. "Thank you."
Meira nodded once, then seemed to shake herself free of the moment.
"Now, as I was saying..." She cleared her throat. "The King. When he brought you here..."
My stomach clenched. He brought me here?
"He was—" She stopped, seeming to search for the right word. "Frantic. Demanding I save you. Threatening me if I failed." Her gray eyes met mine, and I saw something like wonder in them. "He stayed outside these chambers for hours, pacing. Wouldn't leave until I assured him you would live."
The room spun slightly.
That can't be right.
"He's never done that before," Meira whispered. "Never shown concern. Never cared whether they lived or died. In all my years serving him, I've never seen him display anything close to—" She caught herself, her mouth snapping shut.
"Close to what?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.
Meira stared at me for a long moment. Then she shook her head, as if clearing it.
"Nothing. Forget I said anything." She moved toward the door, then paused with her hand on the frame. "Rest, child. Your body still needs time to heal, even if it's healing faster than it should."
"Wait—"
But she was already gone, the door clicking softly shut behind her.
I sat there in the flickering firelight, my mind spinning.
He was worried. About me.
The monster who'd torn me apart. Who'd made me scream. Who'd shifted into a beast and—
I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing the memory back down.
None of it made sense.
I wasn't special. I wasn't powerful. I was just Tessa—worthless, wolfless, ordinary Tessa.
So why was I alive?
And why did he care?
The questions came flooding in, one after another, too fast to catch.
Why did I survive when no one else did?
What does he want from me?
Am I supposed to be grateful I'm not dead?
My hands trembled against the blanket. The firelight blurred, doubling and tripling through the tears gathering in my eyes.
I tried to hold them back. Tried to be strong, to think clearly, to make sense of any of this.
But I couldn't.
The dam broke.
A sob tore from my throat—raw and ugly and loud. I pressed my palms over my mouth, trying to muffle it, but another one followed. Then another.
Father sold me. Like livestock. Like I was nothing. He'd taken gold and handed me over without a second thought, probably counting his coins before the carriage even left.
Thea stole Lucien. Not because she wanted him. Because she could. Because hurting me entertained her. And Lucien—the man who'd promised me forever—hadn't even hesitated.
And now this.
I'd been violated. Torn apart. Used by a monster who shouldn't have let me live but somehow did.
Why? What does it mean? What's going to happen to me?
The sobs came harder now, shaking my whole body. Pain flared through my back and ribs, but I didn't care. I couldn't stop.
Everything I'd ever known was gone. My home. My sister. The man I loved. Even my own reflection—erased, painted over, turned into someone else.
I don't even know who I am anymore.
The tears soaked into the pillow beneath my cheek. My throat burned. My chest heaved with each gasping breath.
What's going to happen to me? Will he come back? Will he finish what he started?
I curled into myself, making my body as small as possible, like I could disappear if I just tried hard enough.
Maybe I should have died. Maybe that would've been easier.
The thought settled over me, cold and heavy.
But I was too tired to examine it. Too exhausted to do anything but cry.
So I did.
I cried for the girl I used to be—the one who scrubbed floors and dreamed of being loved.
I cried for my mother, who I never knew but who might have protected me if she'd lived.
I cried for the future I'd lost, the life I'd never have.
And I cried because I didn't know what else to do.
Eventually, the sobs quieted to hiccups. Then whimpers. Then nothing.
My eyes burned, swollen and raw. My body ached everywhere. But exhaustion pulled at me like a tide, dragging me under.
Just sleep, I told myself. Maybe when you wake up, this will all make sense.
I knew it wouldn't.
But I let the darkness take me anyway.
Because right now, sleep was the only escape I had.