Novel-novel oleh temsglossy

Rian’s POV The kitchen always smelled of warmth fresh bread, roasted meat, and the faint trace of honeyed wine. It reminded me of the safe corners of my past, even if those were few and fleeting. I hadn’t meant to stay long. Just to check in on Mira,the maid who had taken a quiet liking to me since my arrival. She offered smiles, soft bread rolls, and silence when I needed it. But today, there was tension in the air thick and coiled, like a storm waiting to break. Mira was there, bustling between the tables, her dark curls bouncing as she spotted me. Her smile was genuine, a rare treasure in this place. “Rian! I didn’t think you’d come,” she whispered, hugging me and handing me a slice of warm bread. I accepted it gratefully, the simple kindness grounding me. “I wanted to see you,” I said softly, settling onto a nearby bench. “Oh, how much I’ve missed you.” “I heard what happened. I’m glad you’re okay now,” she said gently, and before I could reply A

Rian’s POV A groan slipped past my lips as blinding sunlight spilled into the room, striking my face with unforgiving warmth. I blinked against the harsh rays, my body stiff and sore, every muscle aching like I’d been run over by a car. But the worst of it by far was the harsh sting on my back. It throbbed with every breath, sharp and angry beneath the bandages Elira had wrapped around me last night. The pain was a cruel reminder of everything that had happened. I shifted gingerly, sitting upright with a wince, and everything that happened last night with Darius came rushing back **LAST NIGHT** He stared at me in confusion his face unreadable. “Rejection?” he had asked, his voice low and unreadable. I nodded slowly, not bothering to hide the tremble in my limbs. “You hate me,” I had said, my voice breaking. “And I’m ready to be rejected again. It’s not the first time.” The silence that followed was thick and suffocating until he growled. A low, thr

Darius POV “My sister?” I asked again, needing to be absolutely certain. Toran nodded frantically. “Yes, Your Grace,” he confirmed, his voice rushed with urgency. A sickening twist formed in my gut. My sister. The only family I had left. “Where is she now?” I whispered, careful not to wake Rian, who lay sleeping soundly beside me. “The pack hospital,” Toran replied. I gave a brief nod, silently dismissing him with a flick of my fingers. Then I carefully pulled the duvet up to Rian’s chin, letting my fingers brush over her hair briefly before I turned and followed Toran out. The halls were quiet as we moved quickly through the palace and toward the hospital. A burning sense of dread simmered beneath my skin. When we arrived, I saw her—Avery—lying on the hospital bed, her body bruised and battered. Elira, the palace healer, stood beside her, dabbing her wounds gently. She looked so fragile. My chest tightened at the sight. She’s the only family I have

Darius POV I carried her to my chamber, her trembling body cradled against my chest. Each step I took was quick, purposeful, but careful too aware of every flinch, every broken breath she took. The sight of her earlier, bound and whipped, had stirred something dark and primal inside me. A gnawing pain. A fury I could no longer suppress. She didn’t deserve this. Not her. I laid her gently on the bed, her body limp but still conscious, and mindlinked Elira immediately. “Come to my chamber. Now.” My voice was rough, cracking with frustration and simmering rage. She arrived moments later, her healer’s satchel slung over her shoulder, filled with herbs and glistening vials. She bowed quickly. “Your Grace.” Without another word, she moved to Rian’s side, kneeling beside the bed. Her fingers were already working, assessing the wounds. “She was whipped,” I said flatly, jaw clenched. “Across her back.” Elira nodded grimly, her hands hovering over Rian’

Rian’s POV Days passed, but I hadn’t seen the King since he gave me this room. Not a glance. Not a word. Just silence… and distance. I still rose early each morning and went to the kitchens, though no one ordered me to. The routine grounded me. Chopping vegetables. Scrubbing pans. Hauling baskets of laundry. It reminded me of who I was and who I wasn’t. Whispers followed me everywhere. They thought I couldn’t hear them, but I did. “She’s still alive?” “What kind of witchcraft is keeping her breathing?” “He must be playing with her. He’ll get bored soon.” Sometimes they didn’t even bother to lower their voices. Madam Serah gave me a tight-lipped nod when I arrived each day, allowing me to work but never treating me as anything other than an outsider. Others avoided me completely. Except Maya. She met me with a kind smile every time. She stood close when others stepped away, shared her portion of bread, and once, even brushed my hair when she found me crying in the corn

Rian’s POV I got back to the room, and Mira sprang up the moment I stepped in, her eyes red and puffy. She’d clearly been crying. “Rian, are you okay?” she asked, rushing toward me and wrapping her arms around me tightly, like she was afraid I might vanish. “I’m fine, Mira,” I murmured, though the words shook in my throat. I didn’t feel fine. Not at all. But how could I tell her that? She pulled back and stared at me like she was trying to find cracks in my skin. “You survived…” she breathed, tears forming again. “I thought you were dead. I thought he ” Her voice broke, and she pulled me into another hug. “I was so scared,” she whispered. “No one survives the King’s rut. No one.” I stiffened, her words sinking in. I had survived something meant to destroy me. That thought alone made my stomach churn. “I don’t know how,” I whispered. “But I’m still here.” “This is unbelievable,” she said, pulling back, her face pale but soften