Chapter 30 Meditation - Aleksandr’s POV
The evening air carried the scent of night-blooming jasmine as I descended the steps to the meditation garden. Lanterns had been lit along the stone paths, casting pools of golden light that danced across the water features. And there, seated by the central pool just as I'd expected, was Amelia.
She sat with her back straight, her face tilted up toward the waxing moon. Her dark hair cascaded down her back, longer now than when she'd arrived, and she'd changed into a simple dress of pale blue that complemented both her eyes. The sight of her, peaceful and bathed in moonlight, made something in my chest constrict.
Skoll surged forward at the sight of her, not with rage but with something deeper, something that felt dangerously close to devotion. 'Beautiful,' he rumbled approvingly. 'Strong. Ours.'
I approached without trying to mask my footsteps, knowing she'd heard me already. She turned, and the smile that spread across her face made everything else—the council's doubts, the curse's threat, Blackwater's screams—fade into insignificance.
"You're right on time," she said, her voice stronger than it had been when she first arrived. "I was just asking the moon for a little extra help tonight."
I settled beside her on the stone bench, careful to leave space between us. "And what did the moon say?"
She laughed, that sound I couldn't get enough of, rusty but genuine. "The moon never answers back. But Kaela thinks she's listening anyway."
In the shared mental space where our wolves communicated, I felt Skoll reach for Kaela, their consciousness touching in a greeting that had become familiar over the past days. Kaela's presence felt stronger tonight, more defined, as if her continued interactions with Skoll were helping her take shape.
"How was work today?" Amelia asked, turning those mismatched eyes toward me. "More king stuff?"
I found myself smiling despite the day's frustrations. "More paperwork than anyone would believe. There's a trade dispute with the eastern packs that's generated enough documents to fill the entire library."
She giggled, the sound sending a wave of pleasure through me that was almost embarrassing in its intensity. "I still can't quite picture you hunched over a desk signing forms. It ruins your terrifying image."
"I am rather terrifying," I agreed solemnly, enjoying the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled. "Just ask the eastern packs."
"Not to me," she said, the words so quiet I might have missed them without enhanced hearing. "Not anymore."
The simple admission, offered without expectation or demand, struck me with unexpected force. Amelia had feared me when she arrived, had flinched at my approach and avoided my gaze. Now she sat beside me under moonlight, teasing me about paperwork and admitting without shame that she no longer found me frightening.
Inside, Skoll preened with pride. 'See? We protect now. Not scary to mate.'
'She's not our mate yet,' I reminded him again, though with less conviction than before.
"How are you feeling about the birthday?" I asked, changing the subject to safer ground. "Three days left."
Her expression sobered, the lightness fading from her eyes. "Nervous. Scared. Hopeful." She twisted her fingers together in her lap, a gesture I'd learned meant she was struggling with stronger emotions. "What if nothing happens? What if I turn twenty-one and Kaela still can't come forward?"
I covered her hands with mine, stilling their anxious movement. "Then we keep trying," I said simply. "This isn't a deadline, Amelia. It's just a birthday."
It wasn't entirely true—her twenty-first birthday marked the age when most wolves could sense their mates, a milestone that carried additional weight given my situation. But I couldn't bring myself to burden her with that knowledge, not when she already carried so much.
"Kaela wants to believe that," she said softly. "But she's afraid of disappointing you. Disappointing Skoll."
The admission caught me off guard. In our shared mental space, I felt Skoll surge forward, his presence enveloping Kaela in what could only be described as an embrace.
'Never,' he growled with surprising gentleness. 'Little wolf could never disappoint.'
Amelia's eyes widened slightly, and I knew she'd felt Skoll's response through Kaela. A faint golden glow flickered in her irises—blue and green momentarily transformed into something wilder, more lupine. Kaela, pushing forward in response to Skoll's reassurance.
"He means that," I translated unnecessarily, squeezing her hands gently before releasing them. "And so do I."
She smiled, a small, vulnerable expression that made me want to pull her against my chest and promise that nothing would ever hurt her again. Instead, I stood and offered my hand.
"Dinner?" I asked, keeping my voice light. "Chef mentioned something about making your favorite tonight."
"Pasta with that creamy mushroom sauce?" she asked, her expression brightening as she placed her hand in mine, allowing me to help her to her feet.
"The very same," I confirmed, surprised again at how well I'd come to know her preferences in such a short time. The girl who'd arrived fearful and half-starved had slowly revealed herself to be someone who loved pasta and historical novels, who preferred sunrise to sunset, who hummed under her breath when she thought no one was listening.
As she stood, I noted again how she'd changed physically in the past ten days. Her dress hung more fully on her frame now, curves beginning to fill out where there had been only sharp angles before. She was still small—would likely always be delicate compared to the she-wolves I'd known—but there was a new strength in her, a quiet resilience that had nothing to do with physical size.
"Lead the way, Your Highness," she said with exaggerated formality, a teasing light in her eyes.
"Aleksandr," I corrected automatically, offering my arm as we began walking toward the garden exit. "Always Aleksandr to you."
She slipped her hand into the crook of my elbow, the gesture becoming more natural with each passing day. "Aleksandr," she agreed softly, the sound of my name on her lips still enough to make Skoll rumble with satisfaction.
As we moved from the moonlit garden toward the warm lights of the castle, I found myself thinking of the council's doubts, of the curse's deadline, of all the rational, logical reasons why Amelia might not be the one I needed her to be.
And then I looked down at her upturned face, at the trust that had replaced fear in those remarkable eyes, and found that I no longer cared about rational, logical reasons. In ten days, she'd carved out a space for herself in my life, in my thoughts, perhaps even in what remained of my heart.
Three days until her birthday. Three days until she turned twenty-one. Whatever happened then, one thing had become increasingly clear: Amelia Lovelace was no longer simply a potential solution to my curse. She had become essential, in ways I was only beginning to understand.
And I would fight heaven and hell alike to keep her safe, to see her smile, to hear that rusty laugh that felt like redemption.