Kael's POV
I stood at the foot of the bed while the healers worked in quick, practiced silence.
The room smelled of herbs, blood, and smoke from the low-burning oil lamp in the corner. It clung to the air, thick enough to taste. Every few seconds, one of the women would murmur something under her breath, ask for fresh cloth, or press another salve-soaked strip of linen against Aelara's back.
Her back was bleeding again.
Not as heavily as before, but enough to make my jaw lock.
When she had fallen from the bed earlier, she had torn open nearly every stitch they'd managed to place. The sound of her body striking the floor still echoed in my head. She had cried out first, a broken, strangled sound, like she was fighting something unseen. Then she had jerked so violently that she'd pitched herself over the edge before anyone could stop her.A nightmare so strong her body had reacted before her mind had fully woken.
I had seen fear before. I had seen terror on battlefields, in prisoners dragged from enemy camps, in rogues cornered with nowhere left to run.
But whatever had chased her through sleep had been worse.
Because even unconscious, she had tried to escape it.
River stirred darkly inside me, restless and agitated.
She is not safe here.
I already knew that.
I watched as the older healer leaned over Aelara with careful hands, trying once more to fasten a stitch along the edge of torn skin. Aelara didn't wake. The sedative had taken her fully after the fall, though every now and then a faint flinch passed through her shoulders, as though pain still found her even through unconsciousness.
My fists clenched at my sides.
I should have been paying more attention.
I had been watching her, yes, but not closely enough. I had let myself think that because she was resting, because the room had gone still, because the danger was not immediate, I could afford to ease my focus for a moment.
A mistake.
One moment.
That was all it had taken.
"Kael."
Darius's voice came through the mind-link, cutting across the heaviness in the room.
"Yeah."
"Our warriors just arrived. I've assigned one to escort Elera home. I contacted your father too. Your mother said she'll receive her personally."
"Good. Thank you."
I kept my eyes on Aelara as I answered. Her hair had spilled across the pillow and mattress in pale waves, almost silver under the weak candlelight. Against the linen and the bloodstained wrappings, she looked too still. Too fragile.
A dangerous thing to look like.
"You should speak with your father too," Darius continued. "This pack is filth. If their Alpha thinks he can get away with this kind of treatment under royal law, he's either stupid or desperate."
"I will. After I know she's stable."
A brief pause followed.
"How bad is it?"
I exhaled slowly. "Worse than it should be. The doctor sedated her again so she could re-stitch the wounds without waking her."
Another pause.
Then Darius said, lower this time, "I should have stayed closer."
"No. I should have caught her before she fell."
"You can't blame yourself for someone else's nightmare."
The words landed, but they did nothing.
River gave a rough snarl at the back of my mind.
Nightmare or not, she fell under our watch.
"How's Elera?" I asked instead.
"She's ready to leave. Marcus is taking her to the border."
"Good."
Darius hesitated. "She keeps asking if Aelara will live."
I looked at the bed again.
Aelara's face was pale, drained of what little color she had before. The bruises along her arms stood out sharply now, ugly marks left by hands that should never have touched her. Even unconscious, she looked exhausted. Worn thin by too many days—too many years—of pain.
"She'll live," I said.
The moment the words left me, they became a vow.
Darius must have heard it too, because his tone shifted.
"Good," he said simply.
Then, after a beat, "Elera said there's a Gamma here named Ron. Apparently he's one of the only people who's ever helped Aelara."
My gaze sharpened.
"Helped how?"
"She says he smuggled food to her once or twice. Stood up for her when others got out of line. Took punishment for it."
Interesting.
So not everyone in this pack had rotted completely.
"Find him after Elera is safely gone," I said. "I want to hear what he knows."
"I was planning to."
The link dimmed, but did not fully break. Darius lingered there for a moment, as if weighing whether to say something else.
Finally, he did.
"This place got under my skin fast."
"I mean deeper than that. I've seen cruel packs before. I've seen corrupt Alphas. This is different. Everyone here acts like her suffering is normal."
My eyes moved over Aelara again, over the bandages, the bruises, the dried blood at the edges of her wrists.
"Yes," I said quietly. "That's what makes it worse."
The link faded after that.
I stood in silence again, listening to the small movements in the room. Cloth. Water. Controlled breathing. The crackle of the lamp.
The healer at Aelara's side finally eased back, setting down her needle.
"Prince Kael?"
I looked at her.
For a moment she seemed uncertain, as if she did not know how much truth to give me. Then she straightened.
"I've done what I can for now," she said. "But some of the wounds tore too badly when she fell. A few areas couldn't be closed again. The skin is too weak. We've cleaned them and dressed them, but they'll need close watching."
I glanced at Aelara's back, now wrapped again in fresh linen.
"Can she travel?"
The healer blinked. "Travel?"
"Yes. I want her moved to my kingdom as soon as possible."
Her expression changed then. Not surprise exactly. Understanding.
"She can, eventually," she said. "But not tonight. Not tomorrow morning either, if it can be helped. She cannot lie on her back, and too much movement will risk reopening everything again. Let her wake first. Let her body settle."
"How long will she sleep?"
"A while. I gave her a strong sedative. She needs real rest now, not the broken sort pain allows." The healer paused, then added more gently, "Her body has been living in survival for too long. Sleep alone may help more than anything I can do tonight."
My jaw tightened.
Survival.
Not healing. Not living. Merely enduring.
I nodded once. "Then she stays here tonight. I'll have guards outside."
"You can trust me," the healer said quietly. "I won't let anyone near her who means her harm."
There was no false pride in her voice. Only exhaustion. And, perhaps, some shame on behalf of the place she served.
I inclined my head. "I know."
She seemed startled by that, but grateful.
I gave Aelara one last look before turning away.
The room felt smaller when I left it, too full of things I could not yet fix.
Outside, evening had deepened across the pack grounds. Shadows stretched long between the buildings, and the last of the daylight clung weakly to the rooftops. A warrior from my escort stood outside the clinic entrance, straight-backed and alert. He touched a fist to his chest the moment he saw me.
"My prince."
"No one enters without my order," I said.
"Yes, my prince."
River settled slightly, approval humming low beneath my skin.
Good.
Across the courtyard, Darius stood beside Elera and Marcus.
Elera looked as though she had tried to compose herself and failed halfway through. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her hands clasped too tightly around the strap of a small bag slung over one shoulder. She looked younger than she had earlier, stripped now of urgency and left only with fear.
When she noticed me approaching, she straightened so quickly that it was almost awkward.
"You're… the Lycan prince?"
There was disbelief in her voice, but also a kind of caution, as if she feared being disrespectful by saying it aloud.
I gave her a small nod. "Yes."
Her gaze shifted to Darius. "Then… you're the Royal Beta?"
Darius's mouth curved faintly. "That obvious?"
She stared at both of us like the answer should have been impossible.
After a moment, I said, "You'll be safe once you cross the border."
At that, something in her face loosened.
Not fully.
But enough.
Marcus adjusted the reins of the horse beside him and cleared his throat. "If we want to make the border before dark, we should leave now."
Elera nodded quickly, then looked at me again.
"Aelara…" Her voice thinned. "She really will live?"
The question should not have felt like a blade.
But it did.
"Yes," I said.
This time there was no hesitation at all.
Marcus offered her a hand to mount. Before she took it, she glanced at Darius, then back at me.
"There's a Gamma here," she said suddenly. "Ron. If you're trying to help her… talk to him. He's the only one who ever did anything. He used to bring her scraps from the kitchens. Once, when one of the warriors dragged her by the hair in the yard, he stepped in. They punished him for it."
My gaze met Darius's over her head.
Marcus helped Elera onto the horse, then mounted behind her.
"Go," I told him.
He dipped his head once. "We'll send word when we cross."
Elera hesitated, then gave a small, uncertain smile when Marcus mentioned his own mate and daughter waiting back home. The expression transformed her face for only a second before nerves swallowed it again.
Darius gave her a steadying nod. "You'll be alright."
She ducked her head, clutching the bag tighter.
We watched them ride out through the dimming courtyard, hooves fading into the hush of evening.
For a few moments neither Darius nor I spoke.
The clinic stood behind us.
Darius turned to me at last.
"Ready?"
I looked back toward the clinic doors, toward the room where Aelara lay unconscious and bleeding beneath fresh bandages.
Then I faced him again.
"Let's go meet Gamma Ron."