Chapter Twenty

THE COMMAND

Lucien

Awareness returned slowly, not all at once. My breath came first. It felt wrong. Too tight and too heavy. One of my hand was already pressed against my chest before I realized I was awake. My fingers dug into the fabric as if holding myself together.

The room was quiet. There were no servants and no guards. Just the sound of my breathing and the pounding inside my chest.

A slow breath followed. Then another.

“This is stress,” I whispered.

The words did not calm me, but I said them anyway. Wedding preparations had swallowed the castle. My father had not given me a moment to think. Anyone would feel pressure like this.

Sitting up took effort. The pain in my leg followed immediately, sharp enough to remind me not to rush. I reached for my cane and stood slowly, waiting until the shaking passed.

By the time I finished washing and dressing, the pain in my chest had dulled. It was still there, but quieter. I told myself that was proof it meant nothing.

The hallway outside my room was already alive. Servants moved quickly, carrying fabric and trays. Guards spoke in low voices. The smell of bread and hot metal filled the air.

Everything was about the wedding.

In the dining room, the girl waited at the table. Her posture was straight. Her hands were folded. Her eyes lowered when I entered.

“Good morning, my prince,” she said.

“Good morning,” I replied, taking my seat.

She poured tea without being asked. Her movements were careful, and practiced. She did not speak again.

A servant approached before another word could be said. “The Alpha requests your presence after breakfast.”

I nodded once.

The council room was crowded when I arrived. The tailors argued near the wall. The guards came and went with orders. My father sat at the center, watching everything like nothing escaped his notice.

“You are late,” he said.

“I came when summoned,” I replied.

He leaned forward. “You will make a public appearance today.”

“With her?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “The market. The outer square. You will be seen.”

“That was not discussed,” I said.

“It is decided,” he replied. “The pack must see commitment. Rumors grow when silence is allowed.”

“The marriage agreement stands,” I said.

“And it will be enforced,” he snapped. “You will walk beside her. You will speak to people. You will show no doubt.”

“My condition—”

“Is irrelevant,” he cut in. “Weakness is not forgiven. It is punished.”

My jaw tightened, but I said nothing.

“Prepare yourself,” he added. “You leave before midday.”

There was no room to argue.

The morning passed with duties. Guards were inspected. Reports were read. Disputes were settled. I answered questions, gave orders, and signed documents.

Yet focus kept slipping.

The ache in my chest returned more than once. Each time, I paused and waited for it to pass. Each time, I ignored it.

A guard walked into  the yard. “My prince.”

“What is it?”

“A servant collapsed.”

“That happens,” I replied. “Send the healer.”

The guard hesitated. “It is Erwin.”

The name stopped me.

“That is not my concern,” I said quickly. “Follow procedure.”

“Yes, my lord,” he said, bowing.

I turned back toward the hall, but my steps slowed. The pain in my chest grew again, sharper than before.

“This is foolish,” I muttered.

Inspection gave me an excuse. Nothing more.

The yard was crowded when I arrived. Workers stood nearby. Marge knelt on the ground, with her face filled with worry.

“He collapsed while working,” she said when she saw me. “I told him to stop. He wouldn’t.”

“Where is he?” I asked.

She moved aside.

Erwin lay on a mat, his skin pale and damp with sweat. His breathing was uneven. His body looked tense, as if pain refused to let go.

“Why was he allowed to continue?” I demanded.

“He insisted,” Marge replied. “He said he was fine.”

I stepped closer. Kneeling was difficult, but I did it anyway.

“Erwin,” I said. “Look at me.”

His eyes opened slowly and then I felt confused. 

“My lord,” he whispered.

The pain in my chest eased.

Not fully. But enough that I noticed.

“You are excused from work,” I said firmly. “Effective immediately.”

“I can continue,” he tried to say.

“No,” I replied. “You will rest.”

Marge let out a quiet breath.

Standing again took effort. My grip tightened on the cane. Leaving his side made the ache return.

“This makes no sense,” I thought.

Outside the yard, a guard walked beside me.

“You stayed longer than needed,” he said carefully.

“I inspected a servant,” I replied.

“He calmed when you spoke,” the guard added.

I stopped walking. “Do not read meaning where there is none.”

The guard bowed. “As you command.”

By evening, my father summoned me again.

“You went to the yard,” he said the moment I entered.

“Yes,” I replied.

“You showed concern,” he continued. “For a servant.”

“He collapsed,” I said. “Ignoring that would be careless.”

Darius laughed from where he stood near the wall. “Or sentimental.”

My eyes turned to him. “You find humor in weakness.”

“I find patterns,” he replied. “And you are acting strangely.”

My father stood. “Why him?”

“He is reliable,” I said. “Quiet and observant.”

“And now protected,” Darius said, stepping closer. “How generous.”

“I am reassigning him temporarily,” I continued. “Under my authority.”

Silence filled the room.

“For security,” I added. “During this unstable time.”

My father’s eyes hardened. “You will not use servants to hide your failures.”

“This is practical,” I said, keeping my voice steady.

Darius stopped in front of me. His smile was sharp.

“Then answer me this, brother,” he said.

“Why would a prince suddenly need a low servant so badly?”