Chapter 33
ELARA’S POV
I stirred beneath the solid, possessive drape of a powerful arm cinched around my midsection, drawing me flush against him. My eyelids flickered open, chasing away the final threads of drowsiness. I angled my head and found Ronan still lost in deep sleep at my side. Even while unconscious, a subtle crease marked his forehead, and delicate droplets of perspiration shimmered across his brow. Mindful not to rouse him, I shifted just enough to close the distance, my fingertips drifting to his temple, softly outlining the curve of his eyebrow, then sliding along the jagged scar that crossed his cheek before weaving into the dense waves of his hair. A deep, involuntary rumble of satisfaction slipped from his mouth at the contact, and a gentle smile lifted the edges of my lips as I observed him. At that instant, his lashes trembled, parting to unveil the fierce glow of his golden-amber gaze.
“Good morning,” I breathed softly.
“Good morning,” he answered, his tone still husky from slumber, eyelids only half-raised and weighted with lingering rest. He appeared endearingly disheveled, a far cry from the imposing Alpha he typically embodied.
Who could have imagined that Ronan possessed such a tender facet?
A sudden ripple of laughter spilled from me as the truth settled in. He had genuinely passed the entire night in my chambers. He lifted a single brow in silent inquiry. “What?” he muttered, voice thick and muddled.
“Nothing,” I replied amid lingering chuckles, amusement still fizzing inside me. “It’s simply… you’re still here in my room.”
“What?!” His eyes flew wide, alertness crashing over him. He bolted upright, scanning the surroundings as though he’d awakened in an unfamiliar realm. He pressed a palm to his forehead, then a leisurely grin unfolded across his features.
“Well, it’s hardly a scandal,” he said with a lazy drawl, the arrogant assurance I’d grown to adore threading through every word.
“Yeah…” I cocked my head, “until the rumors start circulating,” I added, injecting a teasing caution into my voice.
“So?” He gave a dismissive snort, shoulders rolling back, his indifference unmistakable. He truly no longer cared.
“Nothing,” I sighed, a familiar wave of exasperation sweeping through me. “You’re not the one who has to—”
“You don’t need to heed those murmurs,” he interrupted, his tone unyielding.
“I can’t avoid it,” I shrugged, shoulders drooping as I swung my legs over the bedside and moved toward the dressing mirror positioned nearby. A sharp hiss escaped me—I remained tender from the night before. “I’ve got lines of maidens hissing at my heels wherever I turn. Of course, they can’t act while you’re present… but it’s still maddening. I’m not frightened, just maddened,” I despised how their stares tracked me, how they muttered every time I walked past, some insisting I’d bewitched Ronan, others alleging far worse.
He dragged a hand through his tousled hair. “It’s too early for this discussion,” he declared, the words carrying an almost authoritative edge. He rose, crossed the floor to stand directly behind me at the mirror, and pressed a gentle, lingering kiss atop my head.
“Bye, see you later,” he murmured, his breath warm against my hair.
Once he had dressed and departed, the chamber immediately felt hollow. The quiet hung dense and oppressive. “I need a bath,” I sighed, glancing toward the bathing room.
A persistent instinct warned me that today would stretch on interminably, endless hours yawning ahead.
~
And it did. Ronan had been utterly consumed all day, devoured by the obligations of his Alpha role. Trials, councils, verdicts. The requirements of his station never relented. I spent the majority of my time in solitude, drifting through palace corridors or lingering in my rooms, feeling like a forsaken pup. I cherished how earnestly he honored his responsibilities, yet sometimes I longed for us to be ordinary wolves—unfortunately, that was not our reality.
On that note… it had been quite a while since I last checked the infirmary. Technically, two weeks wasn’t excessively long given that no urgent crises plagued the pack any longer, but it certainly felt prolonged.
“Maybe I’ll just go there,” I decided, leaving my chambers and heading for the infirmary, Clara trailing silently behind me. She accompanied me nearly everywhere, at any hour.
Upon reaching the infirmary, I found only three healers tending two patients. “Hi,” I greeted, offering a small wave and a modest smile.
“Good afternoon, Miss Elara,” the healers responded together, the patients slumbering peacefully in their beds.
“Anything urgent?” I inquired, studying the two occupants—one appeared frail and weakened, the other clearly wounded, evident from the wrappings encasing his arms and legs.
“Well,” Hank, one of the healers, began, “nothing beyond our capability,” he assured with a warm smile. “You needn’t concern yourself.”
“Oh,” I bit my lower lip, “all right then.” I offered a courteous nod and exited the infirmary, a quiet sigh slipping past my lips.
“Boredom, maybe?” Clara asked, stepping up beside me.
“Yes,” I confirmed with a nod, “I’m bored nearly to death!”
“Perhaps we should return to the palace, settle in the field and enjoy some snacks?”
My shoulders sagged—it was practically the same routine I followed most days, but observing the pack made it worthwhile.
“Okay,” I agreed, brightening a little. As we walked back toward the palace, from the hill where we paused, I glimpsed a small force approaching the gates. An army of perhaps eight men, armed and strikingly familiar.
“Wait—” I bolted forward before my thoughts could catch up, the distance from infirmary to palace considerable. I heard Clara’s protests behind me, urging me to stop running, but I couldn’t—it was inconceivable, utterly inconceivable. Only one army dressed in that manner.
Kael’s.
By the time I reached the palace, the contingent had already entered. I dashed to the main entrance. “Let me through!” I barked at the guards, who swiftly stepped aside to grant passage.
Once inside, the grand hall stood vacant, only muffled voices drifting from farther within. The throne room. I raced toward it, only to be halted by Cael.
“Miss Elara?” he questioned, confusion pitching his voice higher. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” I nodded rapidly, “where’s Ronan?”
“In the throne room.”
I stared at the massive oak doors before me. “Are there visitors?”
“Yes,” his expression abruptly hardened, “a Lycan King arrived without warning.”
My breath caught sharply. “Did you say Lycan King?” At that moment, the doors parted, and through the narrow opening I glimpsed the interior of the throne room. To my utter shock, I saw Kael standing beside Ronan, both men deeply engrossed in conversation. As the doors gradually closed, Kael turned his head, and our gazes locked through the sliver of open space.
Oh no.