Chapter 141

Lila

The fever came back slowly, I didn’t notice at first. It was the chill that never quite left my fingers, the way light blurred at the edges of my vision. Then the trembling started; small at first, then it was harder to ignore.

I’d tried to sit up on my own. The room spun.

“Careful,” came a voice, deep and steady. It was Ronan.

His hands were under my arms before I could protest, easing me back down onto the bed with a gentleness I didn’t expect from the tough Royal Beta.

The sheets felt too hot and too cold at the same time. My skin prickled, my scalp was damp with sweat.

“I’m fine,” I whispered. The lie tasted bitter.

“You’re not,” he said, without judgment. I was too tired to argue with him.

Roman lifted a cup of broth and held it to my lips. I drank slowly, the warmth burning down my throat. He held the cup again and again until I shook my head and turned away.

I let my head fall back against the pillow. The ceiling above me blurred into soft haze.

“Where’s Damon?” I asked.

The silence that followed was brief, but the hesitation was there as if he was deciding what to tell me.

“He’s with the war council,” Ronan said. “There’s been… movement.”

Movement. Another word that meant danger. More secrets. I closed my eyes.

Later, he helped me into a cold bath. I barely remember getting there. The water was soothing, scented with lavender and medicinal leaves. My skin flushed against it, fevered and over-sensitized. My arms floated uselessly at my sides.

Ronan stayed nearby, careful to avoid his gaze. His sleeves were rolled, his hands steady as he gently washed my back, my shoulders. He was clinical but not detached. Just offered quiet care.

He didn’t look away, but he didn’t linger. I realized, in a distant part of my mind, that I trusted him more in this moment than I trusted the man who had marked me.

“Where’s Emma or the healers?” It occurred to me too late that this was likely not appropriate for Ronan to bathe me.

He cleared his throat, a slight blush on his cheeks. “His Majesty charged me with your care and… doesn’t trust anyone else to be near you in a vulnerable state.”

My delirious mind accepted the explanation without question. And when he wrapped the towel around me, I didn’t feel exposed. Only exhausted.

Ronan carried me back to bed without a word, his arms solid beneath me, his scent clean—cedar and the lavender bath oils. He smelled like the forest outside the walls. Like safety. Like someone who never lied to me.

The fever came back stronger after nightfall.

I shivered beneath a thick pile of blankets, body aching with its own betrayal. My teeth chattered. I couldn’t feel my hands again.

And then there he was; Ronan, sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling me into his arms without asking. I didn’t resist. My head found his shoulder, my fingers curling into the front of his tunic.

“It’s alright,” he said, voice a low rumble against my temple. “I’ve got you, my Queen.”

His hand moved in slow, soothing circles against my back, a steady rhythm that I didn’t realize I’d needed. He didn’t say I’d be fine. Just held me.

I couldn’t remember the last time someone had done that without needing something in return.

My thoughts scattered like ash. But I stayed in his arms.

And for the first time in when felt like days, I stopped shaking. The pain didn’t vanish. But it softened.

I let my eyes close, and felt the pull of sleep dragging me down.

Damon was somewhere behind walls and war maps.

But Ronan was here. Warm and comforting. And I let myself rest in that, just for a little while.

Ronan

The candle burned low, its flame small and steady like a heartbeat refusing to falter. The only sound was the subtle rasp of her breathing: uneven, soft, but no longer labored.

She slept.

Finally.

Lila’s head rested against my shoulder, her fever-warmed body curled lightly against mine beneath the blankets. Her arm had slipped around my waist at some point, clinging without thought.

She didn’t know where she was. Not fully. I’d stopped trying to guess which world she thought she was in. Dreaming or waking.

She just knew she wasn’t alone.

I hadn’t meant to hold her this long. I’d told myself I’d help her sit up, let her rest against me until the shaking passed. I’d planned to lay her back down the moment she settled.

But she hadn’t let go. And I couldn’t bring myself to untangle her from me.

I shifted slightly, careful not to wake her, adjusting the weight of her body where it pressed against my side.

Her hair tickled my jaw. It was damp from the cold bath, smelling of lavender and something uniquely her.

Then she moved, just a little.

A sigh escaped her lips, soft and broken, like a dream collapsing. Her fingers curled tighter against my shirt.

And then, barely audible, barely formed: “Damon…” The name left her like a question or a prayer she still hoped would be answered.

I went completely still.

My chest tightened. I’d known she was his, of course I’d known. But hearing it—hearing his name on her lips while she lay in my arms—was something else entirely.

I stared at the fire. My throat felt tight, though I hadn’t spoken. My jaw clenched, just enough to ache.

I breathed in through my nose, trying not to let the flare of jealousy show. Not in my posture. Not in the way my hand still hovered protectively at her back.

Lila was already drifting deeper, unaware of how her whispered word had rend me in two.

I could’ve let her go then. I should’ve. But instead, I shifted my arm around her and pulled her in, held her tighter against my side.

She sighed again, content, this time. Her cheek brushed my collarbone, in a far more feline type of marking gesture.

I told myself that I was doing what Damon wanted. That keeping her safe, holding her through the worst of it, was part of the duty I’d sworn.

But my heart thudded in slow, uneven pulses, and my chest ached in a way I didn’t have a name for.

She felt light in my arms. Fragile in a way Lila never let herself be when she was awake. Like this was the version of her she didn’t show anyone. Not even Damon.

And for one dangerous second, I let myself wonder what it would be like if things had been different. If I hadn’t watched her fall in love with a man who didn’t know how to hold her without keeping half his heart locked away.

But it wasn’t my place to wonder.

I slowly laid her back into the bed, careful not to wake her. Her body stirred slightly, reaching instinctively for the warmth I’d taken with me.

I pulled the blanket up to her chin. Then I reached out and brushed a damp strand of hair from her cheek. My fingers lingered for a heartbeat.

Then I stepped back, letting the darkness of the room swallow me again.

“It’s just duty,” I murmured, barely audible. But the words didn’t sit right in my mouth.

And when I left her chambers, I didn’t look back.

Because I already knew it wasn’t just duty or loyalty anymore.