Chapter 18

Selena’s POV

Adjusting.

That was the word I kept clinging to.

Not surviving. Not enduring.

Adjusting.

I whispered it to myself like a spell every morning before brushing my teeth.

Adjust.

To the endless marble floors and high ceilings that didn’t echo quite so loudly anymore.

To the staff who no longer looked through me like I was just a guest passing through, but greeted me with polite nods and sometimes even smiles.

To the strange, almost tender routine I’d somehow fallen into with the Alpha himself.

Cassian.

Sometimes, he joined us at dinner.

Not always. But when he did, he’d sweep in like a man who had no idea how much space he took up—even when silent.

He’d sit across from me at the ridiculously long table, tearing into bread with his bare hands, sleeves rolled up, forearms dusted with ink and power.

Sometimes he’d ask, “Did you like the soup?”

I’d mutter, “Yes.”

And then he’d offer Sisi his bread roll like he was handing over a crown jewel, glancing up at me afterward with a brow raised—half teasing, half unreadable.

Once, I cooked.

Just once.

I’d sneaked into the kitchen after everyone had left, made jollof rice and peppered lamb the way my aunt taught me. I didn’t want attention. I didn’t want him to know.

But of course, Sisi had other plans.

“Mummy made this!” she’d yelled, loud and proud, her little mouth full of lamb and her face glowing with joy.

Cassian had paused mid-bite.

“You cooked this?” he asked, staring at me like I’d just revealed I could shift into a unicorn.

I’d hesitated. “Yes.”

Then—he smiled.

Actually smiled.

“It’s good,” he said. “Really good.”

I looked down at Sisi’s messy napkin and adjusted it to avoid meeting his eyes. “Thanks.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked after a pause.

“I didn’t want to make a big deal.”

He leaned back in his chair, relaxed in a way that always made me suspicious. “Next time, tell me. I’d like to try more things you make.”

I’d laughed it off. Shoved it deep into the drawer labeled meaningless compliments. But days later, that one sentence still looped in my mind like a song I couldn’t forget.

Maybe I needed to get a grip.

Still, the palace no longer felt like a cage. Not all the time.

And I had my baking.

Muffins, cupcakes, cinnamon rolls.

It wasn’t glamorous, but it was mine. A small joy in a world that had once stripped me bare.

Martha, the head cook, even joked I could open my own bakery if I ever got tired of raising noble pups.

“Don’t tempt me,” I’d said with a laugh.

But I meant it.

I also checked in on my aunt every day. Called the doctors. Read her files. Asked questions they didn’t expect a girl like me to know how to ask.

She was getting better.

Her appetite returned. Her voice had more strength. And for the first time in weeks, the doctors said if, not when.

As for Sisi…

She’d become my world.

Sticky fingers, wild questions, bedtime stories and all.

She called me “Mummy” with such ease now that sometimes I forgot she hadn’t always.

Which was why the silence today felt wrong.

I looked up from the dough I was kneading and squinted at the clock.

2:54.

She should’ve been here already.

Every day like clockwork, she’d sneak into the kitchen and ask for chocolate chips straight out of the jar. Not today.

“She’s probably napping,” I told myself out loud.

But my stomach twisted.

Then I heard it.

Footsteps.

Fast. Urgent. Wrong.

Two maids rushed past the kitchen, their faces pale, eyes wide.

My heart stilled.

I knew.

Even before I saw her, I knew.

I took off running.

By the time I reached her hallway, my breath had already lodged somewhere in my throat.

And then—Sisi.

Lying on the ground.

Convulsing.

Her tiny frame shuddered violently, lips parted, breath shallow. Her limbs jerked in sharp, unnatural movements.

I didn’t think. I didn’t scream.

I moved.

“Get out of the way!” I shouted, pushing past the frozen maids.

I dropped to the floor and gathered her into my arms. Her skin was damp, slick with sweat. Her fingers curled unnaturally.

“Breathe, baby. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

But she wasn’t.

I bit down panic and forced my mind to focus.

This had happened before. Not to her. But to a pup in my old town. I remembered the symptoms. The emergency treatment. I could do this.

“Get me dried valerian root. Lemon balm. Chamomile. Honey. A grinding bowl. Now!”

The maids blinked at me like I was speaking in tongues.

“Now!” I barked, my voice rising to a pitch I didn’t recognize.

They ran.

I rocked Sisi gently, pressing kisses to her damp forehead.

“You’re okay. You’re strong. Just hold on, baby.”

They came back with the herbs, the tools.

I set Sisi down softly on the pillows one of the maids brought and got to work.

Grinding.

Crushing.

Mixing.

Every second a drop of agony.

“Come on, come on,” I muttered, adding the honey.

Then—

“What the hell is going on here?!”

His voice cracked through the tension like a whip.

Cassian.

He pushed through the door, eyes landing on the scene: the scattered herbs, the strange tools, me on the floor with his daughter in my lap.

“What the hell happened to her?” he demanded, his voice thunder.

“She’s seizing,” I replied without looking at him. “I’m treating it.”

“With that?” he growled. “What exactly are you giving my daughter?”

“She needs this,” I said.

“She needs a physician.”

“He’s thirty minutes away. She doesn’t have ten.”

Cassian strode forward. “You could kill her.”

My hands didn’t stop moving. “I would never harm her.”

“You expect me to trust you with her life?”

“Cassian,” I said sharply, standing to face him. “It’s not some random concoction. It’s valerian, lemon balm, and honey. I’ve seen this kind of episode before. This mixture calms the nerves and stabilizes breathing.”

He looked down at the herbs, his face torn between fury and fear.

“She’s my daughter,” he said through clenched teeth.

“She’s my world,” I whispered. “And right now, you have two choices. Let me help her… or watch her suffer while we wait for someone who might be too late.”

Sisi twitched violently again.

Cassian’s expression cracked.

“Please,” I said, voice trembling. “Please, let me save her.”

Silence.

Then—he stepped back.

“Do it,” he said, voice hoarse. “Just… don’t let anything happen to her.”

I dropped to my knees.

Lifted Sisi’s head.

Tipped the warm mixture into her mouth, drop by drop.

She flinched. Swallowed.

I stroked her hair, heart pounding against my ribs like it wanted to shatter them.

“You’re okay, baby,” I whispered. “Mummy’s here. You’re okay.”

I didn’t dare look at Cassian.

Not yet.