CHAPTER 9

Elara’s Pov

A week had passed since I woke in this room, and a week since Alpha Varick had uttered the word that still made my heart stop.

Mate.

The first few days had been a blur of heavy sleep and the grounding presence of the man who claimed my soul. 

Every morning, I didn’t wake to the stinging crack of a whip or the icy splash of water meant to rouse me for the kitchens. 

Instead, I woke to the soft clink of dishes and the intoxicating aroma of fresh bread, smoked meats, and honeyed tea.

Varick brought it himself. Every single time.

He would sit on the edge of the bed, that massive, terrifying Alpha, and watch me eat with an intensity I was slowly realizing wasn't hunger for my flesh, but a fierce, silent protection. 

When he handed me my medicine, his large fingers brushing against mine, the hole Ryker had left in my chest felt a little less hollow.

Then Sora would arrive. 

She’d check my bandages, her touch always kind, before encouraging me to move.

"Just to the window and back, Elara," she’d say. "Your muscles need to remember they were made for walking."

I walked, but I never ventured past the rug. 

On the third day, Varick had stood by the door, his hand resting on the heavy iron latch.

"The gardens are in bloom," he said, his icy eyes searching mine. "The air is clear. You should see the Citadel, Elara. It is yours as much as it is mine."

I froze, fingers clutching the soft cotton of my new tunic. I didn't tell him I was terrified. 

I didn't tell him I knew how the world worked, that the moment I stepped out of this room, the maids would see the Omega in fine clothes. 

They would see the servant who had tricked their Alpha. I waited for him to growl, to command my obedience, but he simply inclined his head.

"When you are ready," he whispered. "Not a moment before."

And so, I stayed.

Now, I lay across the massive bed as the afternoon sun poured through the arched windows in thick, golden ribbons. 

The light felt like a warm hand resting on my skin. 

At Silver Ridge, I used to pray for just ten minutes of rest. I would scrub floors and dream of a world where I could sit down without being kicked. 

I used to wish for peace when the fever got too high or my back felt like it was breaking.

Now, I had a week of it.

I stretched my legs, the soft sheets cool against my skin. 

The silence was strange, no screams, no insults, no clatter of pots. Just the crackle of the fire and the distant whistle of the mountain wind.

‘Is this real?’ I wondered, watching dust motes dance in the light. ‘Am I actually allowed to just... exist? Without earning it?’

For the first time, I wasn't a tool to be used or a mistake to be hidden. I was a guest. 

No, more than that. I was a mate.

I rolled onto my side, eyeing the door. I knew I couldn't stay in this sanctuary forever. 

The world was waiting, and eventually, the girl from the cellar would have to face the wolves of the North. 

But for today, with the sun on my face and a full stomach, I let myself believe the lie that the pain was finally over.

*****

I must have drifted off; the warmth lulled me into a dreamless sleep. I woke not to a barked order, but to the low, vibrating hum of the voice that had become my anchor.

"Elara?"

I blinked against the fading afternoon light. 

Varick stood by the window, his silhouette massive against the orange sky. He moved toward the bed, his footsteps muffled by thick fur rugs.

"Are you alright? You’ve been asleep for hours."

I pushed myself up against the plush headboard. 

My body felt heavy, but the sharp, stabbing pain in my shoulder had receded to a dull throb. 

I nodded slowly, still adjusting to the lack of scolding.

"I'm fine," I whispered. "The sun was just... warm."

Varick did something then that made my heart skip: he smiled.

It wasn’t the smirk of a victor or the grin of a bully; it was a private softening of his rugged features.

"Sora has been hovering in the hallway," he said, leaning against the bedpost. "She’s setting up a tea picnic in the private garden and asked if you would join them. The air is sweet tonight."

I paused, twisting the hem of my tunic. "Sora... she was the one who asked?"

Varick nodded. "She thinks the fresh air will do more for your lungs than this room ever could."

"Will we have dinner there?" I asked, my voice small. 

At Silver Ridge, dinner was a chaotic affair where I ate scraps in the kitchen corner, if I was allowed to eat at all. 

The thought of a picnic felt like a fairy tale.

"Yes," he replied. "A quiet meal under the stars."

I bit my lip, old fears clawing at my mind. "Is there anyone else? The other high-ranking wolves?"

"No one," Varick said firmly. "Just Sora, her assistant, and us. It is a private corner of the Citadel."

I looked down at my lap, stunned. I was waiting for the command. 

In my world, an Alpha’s suggestion was a decree. 

If my father told me to move, I moved, or I bled.

"Why are you asking me?" I whispered, looking up through my lashes. "Like I have an opinion? You're the Alpha. If you want me to go, I'll go."

Varick’s jaw tightened, not with anger at me, but at the implication of my words. He stepped closer, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. 

His touch was grounding.

"You are my mate, Elara," he said, his voice dropping to a gravelly, intense depth. "You are not a doll in a cage. You are not a prisoner.”

His eyes looked calm…. so calm.

“Your comfort matters more to me than protocol. If you want to stay in this bed until the moon turns to ash, you may. But if you want to see the stars... the choice is yours."

A lump formed in my throat. 

The choice is yours.

Those were words I hadn't heard in eighteen years. He was treating me like a person. 

Like a partner.

I looked into his piercing blue eyes and felt a surge of something fragile but real: trust. I beamed at him, a genuine smile that made my cheeks ache.

"Thank you," I breathed. "I would like to go. I want to see the stars."