Mate

Clara's Pov 

Later that afternoon, I went to retrieve his lunch tray. As I stepped into the kitchen, the chef barely looked up. He pushed the tray toward me without a word.

“You’re Clara, right?” a voice said.

I turned to find a young man standing in the corner, drying his hands. He had soft eyes, dark curls, and a playful kind of smile.

“Yes,” I said slowly.

“I’m Nico. I work in the greenhouse. They call me the plant whisperer.” He laughed to himself. “Don’t believe it though. Most days I kill more than I grow.”

I couldn’t help but smile.

“You new here?” he asked.

“Something like that.”

He eyed the tray in my hands. “So, you’re the one assigned to the prince.”

I nodded.

His voice dropped a little. “Don’t let them scare you. This place eats people alive. But sometimes… the quiet ones change everything.”

He winked and went back to his herbs.

That night, after Rowan’s final feeding, I sat beside him again.

The moonlight spilled through the tall windows, casting silver shadows across the floor.

I stared at his chest rising and falling.

“I was sixteen when I first thought I found my mate,” I whispered. “He was handsome. Strong. And the future Alpha. I watched him from afar and thought, maybe fate didn’t forget me after all.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

“But he never saw me. Not really. And when the bond finally connected us, he rejected it silently. He chose someone else. My stepsister. They lied. Hurt me. And did all sorts of cruel things to me.”

My voice trembled.

“And I survived it all. I thought love had died in me. But now I’m here. Sitting beside you.”

I leaned closer.

“And my heart is doing something strange again.”

His hand didn’t move, just as his eyes stayed closed.

“I don’t know how, Rowan,” I whispered, “but I think you were meant for me. That me coming here means something.”

The lights in the room flickered, then settled.

My chest tightened.

I stared at the ceiling, my eyes wide, barely breathing. The machines hummed softly, but the air remained still, and Rowan’s chest rose and fell the same way it always did.

I didn’t say anything else. I just sat beside him in silence for a long time, my hand brushing the edge of the blanket where it covered him.

****

That night, I returned to Rowan’s room just before the moon rose. The room was dim again. I had just turned off the overhead lights and left only the lamp beside his bed glowing softly.

I sat down, brushing the hair from his forehead.

“Did you know I never had a birthday party?” I said quietly. “Mira had dozens. Cakes. Dresses. Fireworks. I watched from the hallway once. Just once. But my father saw me and told me to go wash dishes. I was seven at the time.”

I swallowed hard.

“I thought maybe one day he would remember. That he would feel sorry. But he never did. When I turned thirteen, I didn’t even get a happy birthday. My mother had already grown too sick to speak much. She just held my hand that night and said, ‘You’ll have better birthdays, Clara. You will.’”

I looked at Rowan.

“And now, here I am. Talking to someone who can’t even talk back. But for some strange reason, it feels like you understand me more than anyone ever has.”

I brushed his hand again.

“Is that crazy?”

No answer. Of course not.

And when I leaned forward, I whispered softly closer to his ear, “If you really are my mate… come back to me. Even if it takes forever, I’ll wait.”

The machine beeped. Just once.

I froze.

A second later, the door opened, and I shot to my feet in an instant.

Queen Astra stepped inside. Her eyes scanned the room, stopping on me.

“Um hm. I see you’re settling in,” she said.

“Yes, Luna.”

She moved to the foot of the bed and stared at her son. Her hand brushed his ankle beneath the blanket.

“You know, I used to sing to him when he was little,” she said softly. “He liked lullabies alot, and never slept without them.”

I didn’t know what to say so I remained silent.

She turned her sharp gaze to me.

“My son was supposed to inherit the kingdom,” she said. “He was born for it. Then one accident changed everything.”

She went on to say.

"He was cursed. Seven years ago, during a peace meeting between the four ruling packs, there was an ambush. Rowan had just shifted back into his human form when he was struck with a dark spell. We believe it was meant to kill him. But something... blocked it. Instead of death, he fell into coma."

I listened quietly, not daring to speak.

"We have tried everything Clara," she said. "Healers, witches, shamans. Nothing has worked. We’ve kept him alive with care and hope, but his soul is... somewhere else. Trapped, I believe."

She looked at me now.

“Do you know why I agreed to the marriage?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“Because I wanted to believe there was still purpose in this world. That even the broken things still held value.”

I swallowed hard.

She walked to me, her chin held high.

“If you hurt him, I will bury you in the coldest part of these woods. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Luna,” I whispered.

Her eyes narrowed, as she studied me for a long moment.

Then nodded once and turned away, closing the door behind her.

I exhaled shakily, before I turned back to Rowan.

His fingers twitched again, once.

I looked around, unsure if I imagined it.

I grabbed his hand gently, holding it in both of mine.

“Rowan?” I breathed. “Can you hear me?”

A lump built in my throat. I wasn’t used to speaking so freely, but talking to Rowan felt safe. He couldn’t judge me. Couldn’t interrupt. And I could tell him anything and still feel like someone was listening.

Suddenly, one of his fingers twitched. And

I jerked back in fear.

My heart pounded hard in my chest as I stared at his hand, not daring to breathe. Maybe I imagined it again. Or maybe I was losing my mind. But then it twitched again. A soft movement, barely noticeable.

“Rowan?” I gasped.

He didn’t move again. Nothing else stirred. The machines around him stayed steady. Beep... beep... beep.

I stood slowly, afraid if I moved too fast it would all vanish. My eyes never left his hand. Was this normal? Has this happened before? Maybe it was a muscle reflex.

But something deep inside me whispered that it wasn’t.

I didn't even notice when the door behind me creaked open again. 

I was too focused on him, and too caught up in the swirl of emotions choking my chest that I didn't even notice someone behind me. 

Unbeknown to me that Queen Astra had returned, and was standing at the doorway watching me speak to her son, her hands trembling slightly as she covered her mouth.

I kept going, unaware she was there.

I spun around, startled. The Queen was standing there, one hand pressed to her mouth, the other reaching out toward the bed.

“Did you see that?” she whispered, stepping forward.

“I...” I blinked. “I thought maybe it was just a reflex. I didn't mean to disrupt his sleep.”

“No,” she choked out, her eyes wide and watered with tears. “No. That was not a reflex. My son hasn’t moved in almost six years. Not once. Not even a blink.”

I swallowed hard, stepping back to give her space. She rushed forward, falling to her knees beside the bed.

“Rowan,” she called with trembling voice. “My baby, can you hear me?”

I watched, frozen in place.

She clutched his hand in both of hers, eyes scanning every inch of his face. Then she turned back to me.

“What were you doing to him?” she asked, but with desperate curiosity. “What did you say to him?”

I felt heat rise up to my face. “Nothing important. I was just... talking.”

“Say it again,” she said. “Everything. Repeat it.”

I hesitated. “I... I just called his name.”

Her eyes widened even more.

“Just his name?,” she breathed.

I flinched. “Yeah?”

I stared at her, stunned.

She smiled through tears. “Maybe the Moon Goddess sent you at the right time afterall.”

Suddenly, she stood and rushed to the door.

“Guards,” she called. “Summon the royal physicians. All of them. Tell them Rowan just moved.”

I stood awkwardly, still trying to process what had just happened. 

Minutes later, the room filled with footsteps and movement. Men and women in white coats came pouring in, wheeling machines, scanning monitors, checking vitals.

Queen Astra stood beside them, commanding every move.

“He moved,” she repeated. “His finger twitch three times. Right in front of us.”

The doctors looked at each other skeptically, but none dared to question the Queen. They examined Rowan from head to toe, then one of them turned to her.

“His brain activity is slightly elevated,” the lead physician said. “Not enough to wake him, but... different. This is the first change we’ve seen in months.”

“That’s all I need to hear,” the Queen said. “Double the staff on this floor. I want constant monitoring. If he so much as blinks, I want it recorded as well.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

As they worked around him, I moved to the corner, feeling out of place. I didn’t know what any of this meant. I didn’t even know if I belonged here at this time.

The doctors began calling out orders. One of them, a tall man with dark brows, leaned over the bed and checked Rowan’s pupils. Another tapped away at a tablet, syncing the readings.

“Vitals are increasing,” one nurse said, her voice shaking.

“Start increasing the neural stimulant by 0.5,” the doctor said, looking at the Queen. “We need to push gently. He’s not out of coma yet.”

The Queen didn’t respond. She just kept staring at her son, her eyes watering with tears.

I took Rowan’s hand. It was still cold, but there was something new. A twitch. Not from the machines, just a slight shift of his fingers.

My breath caught.

I looked at the Queen, but she was already seeing it.

She gasped and pressed a hand to her mouth. “Oh my goodness.”

I leaned in close, my thumb brushing over his knuckles. “Rowan, you can hear me, can’t you?”

Another twitch.

More obvious this time. His index finger moved against mine.

I dropped to my knees beside the bed.

“You’re coming back, aren’t you?” My voice cracked. “You heard me, didn’t you?”

His eyelids fluttered.

It was small, barely there, but it was real.

“Did anyone see that?” I asked.

The doctor moved in, flashlight in hand. He gently lifted one lid.

“Pupil movement,” he confirmed. “It’s beginning.”

I could hear the Queen crying behind me, her hand pressed against her chest. “My baby,” she whispered. “You’re really trying to come back.”

Then, Rowan’s lips parted slightly.

He didn’t speak.

But his breathing deepened. It wasn’t mechanical anymore, as his chest was moving on its own now.

The doctors moved around the room with more energy, checking, recording, reacting.

“We’re seeing signs of motor function return,” one of them said. “He might… he might come out of this soon.”

“Soon?” the Queen asked, grabbing the man’s coat.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” he replied. “If this pattern continues… we’ll need to keep him under observation, but this is the best sign we’ve had in years.”

More doctors entered the room. I heard voices over the comms. They were informing the palace staff. The guards, and ministers.

The heir was responding.

The Alpha Prince was waking up.

Everything was about to change.

The beeping continued, louder, faster, and clearer.

Then a real sound, and a sharp inhale from him made me look up.

“Rowan?”

His lips parted again as his brows twitched.

And then…

A low, hoarse sound escaped him.

“Mate.”