Chapter 170

Lila

The sound of footsteps jolted me awake. I sat up too fast, my head swimming, lungs clawing for air in the smoke-filled dreams I had just escaped.

For a heartbeat I thought Damon had found me and his shadow would appear in the doorway, cold and furious.

Instead, the noise faded into the rustle of underbrush and then a knock at the warped door.

I froze, every muscle taut. Ronan had said he’d return soon, but there was no way he would knock. My pulse hammered in my ears.

“Lady Lila?” A voice, low and careful. Not Damon’s, or Ronan’s. It was a woman’s voice.

The latch clicked, and the door opened just enough to admit a slim figure wrapped in a dark cloak. She moved quickly, shutting it behind her, as if the forest itself might be watching.

When she pushed back her hood, I saw the lined face of a woman not much older than my mother. Silver-streaked her hair, but her eyes were clear and kind. Like a healer.

“I am Alara,” she said quietly, her gaze sweeping the cramped room, pausing on me. “Ronan sent me.”

Relief and suspicion collided in me. My grip on the blanket eased, but I didn’t lower it from my shoulders. “You’re a healer?”

She gave one curt nod. “Yes. A… discreet one. He asked me to check on you.” Her satchel landed with a soft thump on the rickety table. The scent of dried herbs escaped as she loosened the straps.

I wanted to protest, to insist I didn’t need anyone, but my body betrayed me. My limbs trembled from the effort of sitting up, my skin clammy with sweat despite the chill that seeped through the walls.

The poison still burned faintly in my veins, and while I didn’t believe it was worsening, I definitely wasn’t improving.

Alara approached cautiously, laying out vials, bandages, small parcels of dried leaves. She pressed her fingers to my pulse, then to my forehead. Her touch was cool, grounding.

“You’ve been poisoned,” she murmured, not asking, simply confirming what she already knew. “Lingering effects.”

“Yes.” My voice rasped.

“And smoke inhalation. Your lungs are struggling.” She pulled a folded cloth from her satchel, soaked it in liquid, and held it to my mouth. “Breathe this. It will ease the burn.”

I obeyed, too uncomfortable to argue. The sharp tang of eucalyptus and licorice root filled my throat, loosening the tightness in my chest.

For a few moments, the silence stretched. Only the soft clink of glass and rustle of parchment as she worked. Then she paused, her eyes narrowing slightly as her hand brushed against my wrist.

“Your pulse…” she murmured, almost to herself. She shifted, placing her hand gently against my abdomen. I stiffened.

“What are you doing?”

Her expression softened, though her tone remained professional. “I need to confirm something.” She pressed lightly and closed her eyes. Then she drew back slowly, meeting my gaze with a look that turned my stomach into stone.

“You’re with child,” she said.

The words didn’t land at first. They hovered in the air, absurd and impossible. Then they slammed into me all at once, and the world tilted.

“No.” My head shook violently, the blanket sliding from my shoulders. “That can’t…”

But even as the denial left my lips, my hands betrayed me, moving to cover the place where she had pressed. Heat flooded my face, my pulse roaring in my ears.

Alara’s expression stayed soft. She spoke gently now, as though I would break if she were too loud. “You are early, yes, but I am certain. Life is there, however fragile.”

Fragile. The meaning gutted me.

Images crashed over me: Damon’s eyes burning into mine in the greenhouse, his voice rough with emotion; the feel of his hands and the one true moment of connection as he slid home inside me… and the contraceptive tonic I was too distracted to drink the next morning.

Alara was still speaking, her voice a hum I barely heard. I could only stare at her lips moving without sound.

When she finally rose, gathering her satchel, I found my voice again, raw and trembling. “Does Damon or Ronan know?”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “No. And they won’t hear it from me, that choice belongs to you.”

My throat closed around the words I wanted to say. Don’t tell him. Don’t tell anyone. Instead, I only nodded.

The healer touched my shoulder once, firm and steady. “You are stronger than you feel. Hold on to that.”

And then she was gone.

The healer’s words kept looping in my mind: You’re with child. Life is there, however fragile.

Night had fallen, but the shuttered windows barely allowed in more than thin slivers of moonlight.

I curled on the thin bedding, knees drawn to my chest, though my hands refused to leave my stomach. It was an instinct I couldn’t explain now that I knew. Protective, terrified, and reverent all at once.

I pressed my palms tighter against myself as if I could already feel the faintest flicker of life stirring there, as if I could hold it still and safe with sheer will alone. My lips trembled as I whispered into the dark, “You’re… loved…”

Damon’s face rose unbidden in my mind, cruel in its clarity. More memories scorched me now. He had given me tenderness, promises, and yet he had hidden so much from me.

Hot tears slid down my temples into my hair, pooling in the pillow that smelled faintly of dust and pine smoke.

My chest ached so fiercely I thought it might split. I wanted to hate him – Goddess, I wanted to hate him. But the ache inside me proved that love still rooted itself deep, feeding the very life now tethered to mine.

“I can’t…” My voice cracked, the sound rasping against the silence. “I can’t go back there. Not to him. I won’t let them have you.”

A shiver wracked me. The outpost was drafty, the blanket too thin. I pulled the fabric higher, but it did nothing to warm me.

I wanted to share this with Ruby. My wolf was the truest part of me, and she was gone.

“Please,” I begged her, my throat raw. “I need you. I can’t do this without you. For me, for…” My hand tightened protectively against my abdomen. “For us.”

But the act of speaking, of daring to hope she might stir, gave me a flicker of strength I hadn’t felt since Ronan carried me into this place. I clung to it.

My body shook as sobs tried to claw their way out, but I forced them back down.

I couldn’t break again. Not when this child depended on me to be strong for her.

I pushed myself upright slowly, every muscle aching, and sat with my back to the wall. My gaze fixed on the sliver of moonlight across the floorboards. A pale reminder that beyond these walls, the world kept moving, uncaring.

I would survive this. I would eat berries, drink rainwater, patch leaks with my bare hands if I had to. I would not let the palace take this child. I would not let Damon be part any part of this.

My palm spread across my stomach again, and for the first time since the fire, my voice steadied. “We’ll keep going. Together.”