Chapter 67

Nicholas’s POV

Morning sunlight cut through the drapes in thin golden stripes. Dust motes hung suspended, drifting lazily in the hush.

Esther was still asleep beside me.

I hadn’t meant to stay the whole night. I’d meant to leave as soon as she stopped trembling. But every time I stood, Norman would snarl low in my mind, and the bond would tug at me like a leash. Not yet. She’s not safe yet.

So I’d sat. When she stirred, whispering something in her sleep, I’d brushed a tear from her cheek without meaning to. The salt of it still clung to my thumb.

Now the sun had risen, and the world felt painfully bright. The first full light always exposes everything you wish had stayed hidden.

Her hair spilled across the pillow in wild curls, the sheet tangled around one bare shoulder. I’d seen her face twisted in fury, fear, and pain, but like this, unguarded, she looked almost at peace. Almost.

Norman shifted restlessly. She belongs here.

“She belongs where she chooses,” I murmured.

She chose you last night.

“She chose to survive.” I rubbed my temples. My head ached, not from drink, but from all the things I hadn’t said. All the apologies that would choke in my throat if I tried.

I rose quietly, pulling on a shirt and boots. She stirred at the sound, eyelids fluttering open. Hazel eyes met mine, the gaze wary, confused, and then sharply aware.

For a moment we stared.

“Morning,” I said.

“Is it?” Her voice was hoarse.

“Barely.”

She sat up slowly, clutching the sheet to her chest. “You stayed.”

“I don’t abandon people halfway through saving them.”

A ghost of a smile. “You sound proud of that.”

“Only when it works.”

I poured her a glass of water from the pitcher. “Drink this.”

She took it, sipping carefully, still watching me like she couldn’t decide if I was a dream or a danger. “You shouldn’t be here.”

I leaned against the window frame. “Then tell me to go.”

Her eyes dropped to the glass. “I can’t.”

Silence stretched between us. It was heavy, fragile, and filled with all the unsaid things we’d built between us like walls.

Finally, she whispered, “Last night shouldn’t have happened.”

“Maybe not.” I paused. “But it did.”

She flinched. “Don’t make it something it wasn’t.”

“I’m not.” My voice softened. “But I’m not pretending it meant nothing, either.”

She looked away. Her fingers trembled slightly, the glass nearly slipping from her hand.

“I don’t know what it meant.”

“Then let me show you.”

Her eyes shot to mine. “Nicholas—”

“Not like that,” I said quickly. “Let me show you who I am now. Not the man who hurt you. Not the Alpha you hate. But me,” I exhaled. “Just me.”

She blinked, unsure whether to laugh or cry. “You make it sound easy.”

“It won’t be. Nothing with us ever is.”

She set the glass aside, drawing her knees to her chest. “You talk like we’re something worth saving.”

“Aren’t we?” I asked quietly.

She didn’t answer.

She didn’t tell me to leave, either.

By afternoon, the palace buzzed again. Servants were whispering, advisors were pretending they hadn’t noticed the Alpha missing from his own bed. Norman’s satisfaction was insufferable.

Let them talk, he growled. They should know who she is to us.

I ignored him and found myself in the garden courtyard instead. The air smelled of rain and earth.

I didn’t know why I’d come. Maybe to breathe. Maybe to stop thinking about how her skin had felt beneath my hands.

Then I heard laughter.

Two small shapes darted between the rose hedges, Sofia and Carl. Their caretaker trailed behind, exasperated and panting. “Please! Not so fast—your mother said—!”

Carl ignored her, sprinting toward the koi pond. Sofia chased him, shrieking with delight.

I froze.

It had been weeks since I’d seen them outside the infirmary. The last time, Carl had glared at me with something close to hatred. I hadn’t blamed him. But now he looked like any boy playing in the sun with color in his cheeks, hair catching light like spun gold.

Sofia spotted me first. Her little gasp turned into a grin.

“It’s the Alpha King!”

Carl stopped short, shoulders tensing. His eyes met mine, suspicion flaring instantly.

I raised a hand in a half-wave, unsure what else to do. “Out for a race?”

Sofia nodded eagerly. “I won!”

Carl muttered, “She cheated.”

I almost smiled. “That’s what all sore losers say.”

That earned me a scowl, but the scowl had less venom this time.

The caretaker looked mortified. “Forgive me, Alpha, I didn’t know they’d—”

“It’s fine,” I said. “Let them play.”

Sofia trotted over, holding out a small, crumpled daisy. “Here. For saving Carl last time.”

The tiny gesture hit harder than any formal offering I’d ever received. I took it carefully. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, beaming. “Mama says you’re complicated.”

I blinked. “Did she, now?”

She nodded, whispering conspiratorially, “That means she likes you but doesn’t want to.”

Carl groaned. “Sofia!”

She stuck out her tongue at him and skipped back toward the flowers.

I watched them, something warm and sharp twisting in my chest.

Pups, Norman murmured. Ours.

“Don’t start,” I muttered.

You see it. The girl’s heart, the boy’s fire. Yours and hers, both.

I didn’t reply, but the daisy in my hand trembled slightly.

That evening, I found myself at Esther’s door again.

She opened it halfway, cautious. Her hair was damp from a shower, her expression wary but not hostile.

“You came back.”

“I usually do,” I said.

She sighed, stepping aside. “What is it this time? Another lecture about taverns?”

“No.” I hesitated. “I saw the twins today.”

Her whole body went still. “Where?”

“The garden. They were fine.” I paused. “Carl’s stronger.”

Relief flickered in her eyes, chased quickly by anxiety. “Did he say anything?”

“Just that his sister cheats at races.”

Her shoulders eased minutely. “That sounds like him.”

I hesitated, then reached into my pocket, pulling out the crushed daisy. “From Sofia. She said to give you half.” I handed it to her.

She stared at the broken stem, the missing petals, and something trembled in her lip.

“She used to give me these after every healing session,” she whispered. “Said they fixed anything.”

“Maybe they do.”

Her gaze lifted. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I can’t stop.” I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “Because when I see them, I see you. The parts of you I tried to destroy and couldn’t.”

She took a step back, shaking her head. “You can’t—”

“I’m not asking for forgiveness.” My tone softened. “I’m asking for a chance to deserve it.”

Her breath hitched. “Nicholas—”

“I’ll prove it. To you, to them. However long it takes.”

She looked at me for a long, trembling moment. Then, quietly, she said, “Don’t make promises you’ll regret.”

“I’ve already made worse ones.”

She almost smiled, almost. “You sound different.”

“I am,” I said. “You made sure of it.”

Over the next few days, I kept my word.

I visited often, but never uninvited. Sometimes just to check on Carl’s health. Sometimes to walk with Sofia in the courtyard while Esther worked in the infirmary. I found myself laughing, actually laughing, at Sofia’s endless questions about wolves and kingdoms and why the moon changed shape.

Carl stayed distant at first. But slowly, suspicion gave way to curiosity. He’d ask small, cautious things: “Did you really fight rogues in the East?” “Do you know how to shift without breaking bones?”

I answered honestly. The boy’s sharpness mirrored mine too closely to ignore. Norman preened every time Carl spoke, a low rumble of paternal pride I pretended not to hear.

The palace noticed. So did Kevin.

He arrived one afternoon, jaw tight, eyes cold. “I hear you’ve been spending time with my family.”

“They’re not your family,” I said evenly.

He stepped forward, voice low. “You had your chance, Nicholas. You broke her. Don’t start again.”

“I’m not starting anything,” I said. “Just being what you never were.”

His eyes flashed, but before he could retort, Esther’s voice rang out from behind him: “Enough.”

We both turned.

She looked between us, her eyes weary and resolute. “I’m done being fought over. If either of you wants to help, start by not turning everything into a contest.”

Kevin’s jaw clenched, but he backed off. “Fine. But if he hurts you again—”

“He won’t,” she said simply.

Something in me loosened at that.

When Kevin left, she turned to me. “Don’t make me a liar.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

That night, I couldn’t sleep. I stood on my balcony, watching the moon rise high over the mountains. Norman was restless but calmer than he’d been in months.

You see it now, he murmured. The pack. The pups. The mate. We could have all of it.

“Maybe,” I said. “If I don’t ruin it again.”

Then don’t.

I huffed a laugh. “Simple advice for a complicated man.”

She believes in you, Norman said. Or she’s beginning to.

I stared at the daisy on my desk, now pressed between pages of a ledger like some fragile relic. “Then maybe I should start believing too.”

The next morning, I found myself back in the courtyard, not as an Alpha, not as a penitent man, just as Nicholas.

Sofia ran to meet me, holding up a drawing she’d made: a family under the moon, stick figures smiling. Four of them.

I took it carefully, tracing the little crayon wolf at the corner.

“Who’s this one?” I asked.

She grinned. “That’s you.”

My throat tightened. “You gave me fangs.”

“You have them,” she said confidently.

Carl hovered behind her, arms crossed but not frowning. “Don’t get used to it.”

I smiled faintly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Esther appeared in the doorway then, watching us, tired, wary, but with a softness I hadn’t seen in years.

In that moment, with sunlight filtering through the leaves and laughter echoing off the stone, I realized what I’d been missing all this time.

Not power. Not redemption.

Fragile warmth. The heartbeat of something that might, if handled gently, turn into home.