Chapter Ten

Fenrir stumbled out into the corridor, one hand pressed tightly against his chest, his breathing still uneven and heavy. Valeria followed close behind him, her earlier confidence gone. The sound of doors opening echoed down the hall as Rowan and Elias stepped out of their rooms at the same time, both immediately taking in Fenrir’s condition.

They looked at each other for only a moment before Elias spoke first. “What was that?”

Rowan’s attention shifted to Valeria, his expression sharpening. “What happened?”

Valeria shook her head quickly, her frustration mixing with uncertainty. “I don’t know. One moment he was fine, and the next he was on the ground like that… and then someone screamed.”

Rowan stepped forward without waiting for anything else, moving to Fenrir’s side, while Elias mirrored him on the other. “Can you walk?” Rowan asked quietly.

Fenrir didn’t answer at first, his jaw set as he forced himself upright, though the tension in his body made it clear the pain hadn’t fully left him. “I’m fine,” he said, though the strain in his voice suggested otherwise.

“You don’t look fine,” Elias muttered, already slipping an arm beneath his to steady him.

Fenrir didn’t argue.

Together, they moved down the corridor in the direction the sound had come from.  The closer they got to the eastern wing, the more the atmosphere changed. Servants rushed through the halls, their usual quiet composure replaced with urgency. Footsteps echoed, voices overlapped, and movement centered around a single point ahead.

Valeria reached out and caught one of the passing maids by the arm. “What’s going on?”

The maid barely slowed, her breath uneven as she glanced toward Valeria with wide eyes. “Something’s wrong with Princess Aurelia,” she said quickly, her voice filled with worry, before pulling free and hurrying off.

By the time they reached the corridor outside Aurelia’s chambers, the King and Queen of Valmere were already there. The tension around them was unmistakable, heavy in a way that made everything else seem distant.

Fenrir pulled away from Rowan and Elias, steadying himself as he stepped forward, though his hand remained pressed against his chest, sweat still clinging faintly to his skin. “What happened?” he asked.

The Queen didn’t answer.

Her attention was fixed entirely on the door, her worry too evident to be masked or set aside.

The King turned instead, his expression controlled, though it didn’t hide the concern beneath it. “Something is wrong,” he said. “Lyra said Aurelia had called for her because she felt something was wrong. She said Aurelia’s birthmark was glowing… red, as if it were burning.”

Fenrir stilled.

For a moment, confusion crossed his expression. His thoughts moved quickly, trying to piece together what he had just experienced with what was happening now. He didn’t believe in coincidences. Not like this. Not with timing so exact it felt intentional.

Before anything more could be said, the door opened, and the royal physician stepped out. He removed a pair of bloodied gloves as he spoke, dropping them into a cloth bag already stained with use.

“The bleeding has stopped,” he said, his voice steady despite the gravity of it. “It’s unlike anything I’ve seen before. The wound… it sealed itself, almost as if it had scarred over.” He paused briefly before continuing. “I’ve given her something to help her sleep and ease the pain. For now, she is stable.”

The Queen exhaled softly, relief breaking through the tension just enough to show. “Thank you.”

The physician gave a small nod and stepped aside.

The King and Queen entered the room without hesitation.

Inside, the space was quieter, the urgency held just outside the door. The Queen moved to Aurelia’s side immediately, taking her hand, while the King stood opposite her, his presence steady but no less concerned. A damp cloth rested nearby, and the Queen used it gently to wipe the lingering sheen of sweat from Aurelia’s face.

From the doorway, the others looked in.

Aurelia lay still, her condition a stark contrast to the composed figure they had seen earlier that evening. The color had drained from her face, leaving her pale in a way that made her appear almost fragile. Her hair, once carefully arranged, had loosened, strands falling out of place. Whatever strength she had carried before now seemed distant.

Elias leaned slightly forward, his voice quieter but still unfiltered. “She looks… bad.”

Rowan didn’t hesitate to drive his elbow into Elias’s side.

Hard.

Elias winced. “I’m just saying…she does.”

Rowan’s expression tightened. “She just went through something we don’t understand. You heard that scream.”

Elias didn’t argue that.

Fenrir stepped closer, though he didn’t cross the threshold into the room. He didn’t need to. He could see enough from where he stood.

Elias wasn’t wrong.

She did look bad.

The composure, the control, the quiet strength she carried earlier, it was gone, stripped away in a way that left something far more human behind.

And yet… Fenrir couldn’t bring himself to feel what he thought he should.

She was human. Humans were fragile. That had always been the truth as he understood it. Still, something about it didn’t sit right. The timing. The connection.

He turned away before the thought could settle further.

“I’ve seen enough,” he said, his voice even despite everything that had happened. “There’s nothing we can do here.”

Rowan looked at him for a moment. “You’re leaving?”

“We’re not helping by standing here,” Fenrir replied simply.

One by one, they stepped away from the doorway and returned to their rooms, the night ending without anything more being said.

It had been enough.

**

The next morning carried a different kind of quiet.

Breakfast was served as expected, the table set with the same care and precision. The King and Queen were already seated when the others arrived, though one place remained empty.

Rowan was the one to break the silence. “How is Princess Aurelia?”

The King looked up, his expression more measured now. “She is stable. Still in pain, but the physician is monitoring her closely.”

Elias shifted slightly in his seat. “Do they know what caused it?”

Rowan nudged him again, though less harshly this time.

Elias frowned. “You have to stop doing that.”

Rowan ignored him, turning his attention back to the King. “We’re only asking out of concern.”

The King gave a small nod. “We do not know. There was no clear cause.”

That answer settled over the table, unsatisfyingly.

Valeria let out a quiet breath, believing no one could hear her. “It all seems a bit dramatic.”

But the reaction was immediate. The Queen’s hand struck the table with a sharp sound that cut through the room. “That is enough.”

Her voice carried no restraint now; her composure was far more direct. “You are a guest in this kingdom. Alpha’s daughter or not, you will show respect.”

The room fell silent.

“We may be human,” she continued, her gaze fixed firmly on Valeria, “but we are not beneath you, and we will not tolerate being treated as if we are. You hold no authority here.”

Valeria straightened slightly, though she didn’t look apologetic.

“Speak like that again, even more so about my daughter,” the Queen added, her voice lowering in a way that made it more dangerous, “and I will escort you out of Valmere myself.”

No one spoke.

The King reached for her hand, his gesture quiet, grounding, though he didn’t contradict her.

Rowan, for once, said nothing.

Elias looked between them, clearly more entertained than he should have been, though he had enough sense not to voice it.

Fenrir’s jaw tightened.

His gaze shifted briefly to Valeria, then to the Queen, the conflict clear but contained. He could have responded. Could have challenged it, but he didn’t. Now was not the right time.

“Go back to your room,” he said to Valeria, his voice firm.

She hesitated for only a second before standing. There was no apology in her expression, no acknowledgment of fault, but she didn’t argue. She turned and left. The door closed behind her, and the silence that followed was heavier than before.

Breakfast continued.

But the atmosphere had shifted.

**

Aurelia woke slowly. Her body felt unfamiliar, every movement delayed by a dull ache that lingered beneath her skin. The room was quiet, softened by the filtered light coming through the windows, but it did nothing to ease the weight pressing behind her ribs.

Her gaze shifted toward the door before her voice followed.

“Lyra.”

It was quieter than usual, but steady enough to carry.

The door opened almost immediately, Lyra stepping inside with the kind of awareness that came from knowing Aurelia too well to ever take her silence lightly. She moved closer without rushing, her eyes taking in the state of her princess before settling beside the bed.

“You should still be resting,” Lyra said gently.

Aurelia didn’t look at her right away. Her attention remained fixed on the window, on the pale stretch of sky beyond it.

“Bring him to me.”

Lyra stilled slightly. “Aurelia…”

She turned her head then, her expression not sharp, not forceful, but certain in a way that left no space to argue.

“Fenrir.”

Lyra exhaled quietly. “You cannot let him see you like this.”

Aurelia’s gaze held steady. “I believe it to be his fault that I am in this state,” she said, her voice even despite the strain beneath it. “Bring him here.”

There was no hesitation in her tone.

No room to refuse.

Lyra studied her for a moment longer, then gave a small nod. “Very well.”

She didn’t argue further.

Instead, she turned and left the room, the door closing quietly behind her.

**

Fenrir didn’t expect to be summoned.

When Lyra approached, her posture composed but her intent clear, he regarded her with mild interest rather than urgency.

“The princess has asked for you,” she said.

That alone nearly earned a refusal.

He had no reason to answer to her. No obligation to respond to a request that carried no authority over him. And yet, something about the way the night had unfolded, the way the pain had struck without warning, the way her condition had mirrored something he didn’t yet understand, left just enough curiosity to outweigh dismissal.

He exhaled once. “Fine.”

If nothing else, he would hear what she had to say.

Lyra inclined her head slightly and turned, leading him through the corridors once more. The palace returned to its calm rhythm, though Fenrir noticed how the servants moved with a touch more awareness as they passed.

When they reached the door, Lyra stepped aside, opening it without hesitation.

“I will be just outside,” she said. “Call if you need anything.”

Fenrir didn’t respond.

He stepped past her and into the room.

**

Aurelia was propped against the head of the bed, her posture supported by carefully arranged pillows that did little to disguise the lingering weakness in the way she held herself. Her gaze rested on the window, distant but not unfocused, as though she had been watching something.

Her hair had been gathered, but not with the same precision as before. Strands had slipped free, softening the otherwise composed image she usually carried. The color had not fully returned to her skin, leaving her pale, though not nearly as fragile as she had looked the night before.

She didn’t turn immediately when he entered.

“You called for me?” Fenrir said, his tone lacking any formality.

Aurelia shifted her gaze then, turning her head just enough to look at him. “Yes.”

Her voice was steady.

“We need to speak.”

Fenrir didn’t move further into the room than necessary, his stance relaxed but not careless, his attention fixed on her with a level of scrutiny he hadn’t shown before.

“Then get to the point,” he said. “I’m not here for another vague explanation.”

Aurelia held his gaze for a moment, unbothered by the edge in his tone.

“I believe it to be your fault,” she said.

There was no accusation in the way she spoke it.

Just certainty.

Fenrir’s expression didn’t shift immediately, though something in his posture tightened slightly. “That’s a bold assumption.”

“It is not an assumption.”

Her voice remained even, though the effort behind it was more noticeable now.

“It is the only explanation that aligns with what occurred.”

Fenrir let out a quiet breath, his attention sharpening. “Explain.”

Aurelia adjusted slightly against the pillows, the movement small but deliberate, as though she refused to let the weakness in her body dictate the way she carried herself.

“The timing,” she said. “You have only shown up here, wearing a cursed mark that resembles my birthmark. And in the amount of time you have been here, something has happened due to this mark. I have never experienced anything such as this until you showed up.”

Fenrir’s jaw shifted slightly. “You’re making connections without any actual proof.”

“And you’re ignoring them despite the evidence,” she replied.

That earned a brief pause.

Aurelia’s gaze didn’t waver. “Something triggered it.”

Fenrir’s hand lifted briefly, brushing against his chest without thinking, the memory of the pain still too fresh to dismiss.

“And you think that something was me.”

“I explained before, this mark is binding,” she said carefully

The words settled between them.

Fenrir’s expression hardened slightly. “You’re saying this curse extends beyond me.”

“That is what binding is, it is not contained to one body.”

Aurelia watched him, studying the way he processed her words, the way his stance shifted just enough to reveal that he was considering it, even if he hadn’t decided to accept it.

“Something happened to you,” she continued. “Before it did me.”

Fenrir didn’t answer right away.

Didn’t deny it either.

“That mark,” she said, her gaze lowering briefly toward his chest before returning to his face, “this will not be the only time it does this.”

His expression tightened. “I’m aware.”

“No,” she said quietly, “you are aware that it causes pain, but you do not hold any concern for what you are bonded to.”

Fenrir stepped slightly closer now, not enough to close the distance entirely, but enough to make it clear he was no longer dismissing the conversation outright.

“Then tell me what needs to be done.”

Aurelia held his gaze, steady despite everything. “I need time.”

That wasn’t the answer he wanted.

It showed.

“You called me here to tell me you don’t have an answer?”

“I called you here,” she replied, “to make you understand that this is not something you can ignore.”

Fenrir let out a quiet breath, his patience thinning. “I’m not ignoring it.”

“You were,” she said. “Until it affected you.”

That landed.

Her gaze didn’t soften.

“And now,” she continued, “it has affected me as well.”

Fenrir’s jaw tightened again, but this time he didn’t argue, because he couldn’t.

Aurelia shifted slightly, the movement small but enough to remind him that she was not as unaffected as she appeared.

“Whatever this is,” she said, “our bodies are bonded together, and this cannot happen again.”

Fenrir’s gaze remained on her, more focused now than it had been since he entered.

“Then figure it out,” he said.

Aurelia met his gaze evenly. “I intend to.” Then, quieter, more deliberate, “But you will not interfere with that process.”

Fenrir’s brow lifted slightly. “Interfere?”

“You will not act impulsively,” she clarified. “You will not ignore what is happening. And you will not treat this as something beneath you.”

There it was.

That edge.

Fenrir studied her for a moment, something unreadable passing through his expression before it settled back into something more controlled.

“You’re in no position to give me orders.”

Aurelia didn’t react to that.

She simply held his gaze.

“I am in the position to understand what you do not,” she said. “And right now, that is the only thing keeping this from becoming worse than it already is.”