C9 The Price of Protecting Her

By morning, I had almost convinced myself that Damien's words meant nothing. "Father used to carry you. He used to call you his little wolf." The memory refused to connect to the life I actually remembered, so I shoved it aside and focused on something I could control. Commander Gareth had assigned me to patrol the southern district, and for once I wanted to earn something that belonged entirely to me—not pity, not protection, just respect.

Before I reached the training grounds, Adrian caught up to me, holding a sealed letter. "Kael," he said.

I turned. "What's that?" I asked. "This came for you," he said, handing it over.

I broke the seal. "Meet me at the western estate. Alone." Damien's handwriting, sharp and impatient as ever.

"What does he want?" I asked, more to myself than to Adrian. "Probably something annoying," Adrian said, shrugging. "That's reassuring," I said.

"Be careful," he said, and I tucked the letter into my coat, one thought looping the whole walk to the western wing—if Damien wanted to ruin me, why bother warning me at all? And if he was starting to see me as a brother, why did every step still feel like walking into a trap I couldn't see?

I found him in the western garden, and he wasn't alone. Lyra stood beside him, arms crossed, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else on the continent. My steps faltered.

"What is she doing here?" I asked. "I asked her to come," Damien said. Lyra's jaw tightened. "I didn't know you were going to summon Kael," she said.

"We're discussing the future," Damien said, and I didn't like the shape of that word in his mouth.

"What future?" I asked. He crossed the garden toward me, unhurried, like a man who already knew how the conversation would end. "The royal council is beginning to question whether you're suitable for your responsibilities," he said.

My stomach tightened. "What?" I said. "You heard me," he said. "You've been in fights, attacked by strangers, and you still can't fully control your wolf."

"I passed the royal training," I said. "Barely," he said, and I stepped closer, close enough to smell the arrogance on him.

"What do you want?" I asked. He glanced at Lyra, then back at me. "I want you to stop interfering with her," he said.

"She isn't yours," I said, jaw set. "No," he said. "But the council expects her to become Luna."

"My future is not a political contract," Lyra said, voice cold enough to frost the hedges, though Damien didn't so much as blink at her.

"Kael, you're being given a chance," he said. "Step away from Lyra. Focus on your training. Build your reputation. Stay out of my way."

"And in exchange?" I asked. "I'll make sure the council stops treating you like a disgrace," he said, and for one traitorous second I actually felt the pull of it, respect, a title, an end to the whispers that followed me down every corridor in this palace. Then I looked at Lyra. She wasn't demanding anything. She was just watching me, waiting to see what kind of man I actually was.

"No," I said. "Think carefully," Damien said. "I already did," I said. "You could have a better life," he said.

"Not if the price is abandoning her," I said, and Lyra's eyes softened even as Damien's jaw hardened into something dangerous.

"You really are determined to make everything difficult," he said. I stepped toward him. "She's not a prize," I said.

"Then stop acting like she's yours," he said. "I never said she was," I said.

"Your actions say otherwise," he said, and Lyra finally stepped between us, palm flat against my chest like she could physically hold the two of us apart by will alone.

"Enough," she said, turning on Damien. "I don't want this conversation." He grabbed her arm. "You're coming with me," he said.

She wrenched free instantly. "Don't touch me," she said, and when he reached for her again, voice dropping low and bitter—"You don't understand what you're throwing away"—she just backed toward the gate.

"I understand perfectly," she said. "I don't want to marry someone who thinks he can decide my life."

"Lyra," Damien said, and she turned and ran before he could finish. I went after her on instinct, calling her name, and she vanished through the garden entrance while Damien stayed rooted where he stood.

He didn't chase her. He just looked at me, something raw and unreadable crossing his face. "Go," he said.

"What?" I asked. "Go after her," he said, voice bitter. "Apparently that's what you do best." I didn't understand him—not then—but I didn't waste another second trying to.

I found her near the old stone bridge, breathing hard, arms wrapped around herself like she was holding her own ribs together. I slowed as I approached. "Lyra," I said.

She turned, and something in her face eased the instant she saw me. "Kael," she said.

"Are you alright?" I asked. She nodded, then shook her head. "I don't know," she said. "What happened?" I asked, stepping closer.

"He wanted me to agree to a private engagement announcement," she said, and my stomach dropped.

"Without your consent?" I asked. "He said the council had already discussed it," she said, and my fists curled at my sides.

"He can't do that," I said. "I know," she said, glancing back toward the palace like it might follow her. "That's why I ran."

I wanted to promise her everything would be fine. I couldn't, because I genuinely didn't know. Instead I reached for her hand, and she took it, fingers cold against mine.

"You don't have to face this alone," I said. "You always say that," she said, a faint, tired smile ghosting her mouth.

"Because it's true," I said, and her eyes glistened before she stepped in close enough that I could feel the warmth coming off her skin.

"Kael," she said, and I wrapped my arms around her, her head finding my chest like it belonged there. Her breathing slowed under my palm.

"I hate this," she whispered. "What?" I asked. "That being close to you feels like something I have to fight for," she said. "So do I," I said, closing my eyes.

She tilted her face up to mine. "Would you ever leave me if it meant making your life easier?" she asked, and the question hit somewhere deep and unguarded. I thought of my punishment, my mother's contempt, the whispers that trailed me through every hall, the crown I never asked for.

"No," I said. "Even if it costs you your place in the royal family?" she asked.

"Even then," I said, and she reached up to touch my cheek, fingers trembling slightly against my jaw.

"That's what scares me," she said. "Why?" I asked.

"Because I believe you," she said, and then she leaned in, forehead resting against mine, close enough that her breath warmed my mouth.

"I don't want you to lose everything because of me," she said.

"I don't want to lose you because of everything," I said, and her eyes fluttered shut, the whole palace, the council, Damien, all of it disappearing until there was only her. Then she kissed me, soft, unhurried, deliberate, nothing desperate in it, just certainty, just her choosing me in the quiet the way she wouldn't be allowed to in front of anyone else.

When she finally pulled back, she whispered, "Then become strong enough that neither of us has to lose anything."

"That's a difficult request," I said, smiling despite the ache still sitting in my chest.

"You're the one who said you'd never leave," she said. "Then I'll have to become stronger," I said.

"Good," she said, and something in the way she said it settled into my bones like a vow.

That night I went to the training grounds alone. Gareth raised an eyebrow at the sight of me. "You're supposed to be resting," he said.

"I need training," I said. "Why?" he asked, studying my face like he already suspected the answer.

"Because I'm tired of being protected," I said, looking toward the palace lights. "I want to become strong enough to protect myself. And the people I care about." I tightened my grip on the wooden sword until my knuckles ached.

Gareth nodded slowly. "Then you'll need more than strength," he said. "What else?" I asked. "Discipline," he said, and stepped into the ring. "Again."

I attacked. He knocked me flat. I stood, and he knocked me down again, and again, until my knees were raw and my hands wouldn't stop shaking, and still I got back up, because stopping felt worse than the pain did. By midnight my arms could barely lift the sword, and Gareth finally lowered his own weapon.

"Enough," he said. "I can continue," I said, swaying on my feet.

"No," he said, voice firm. "If you want to become strong, learn the difference between determination and desperation." His words landed exactly where my father's warning had once cut—"your problem is that you are desperate to prove you are not weak"—and for a moment I wondered if the old man had been right all along. Maybe strength was never about proving anyone wrong. Maybe it was about becoming someone I could actually live with.

I picked the sword back up. "Tomorrow?" I asked. Gareth smiled. "Tomorrow," he said.

Walking back to the palace, something glinted beneath my boot, a thin silver thread, torn from a cloak too fine for a soldier. I turned it over in my fingers, thinking of Damien's coat, then Adrian's, then Victor's, then Noah's. Any of them could have crossed this ground tonight. Something about it sat wrong in my chest, but I pushed the thought down. I'd promised myself not to chase every shadow that crossed my path, not tonight.

For now, my goal was simple. Get stronger. Earn my place. Protect Lyra. And someday, stand in front of the pack without lowering my head to anyone.

I didn't know yet that the road to that goal would force me to choose between my own brothers. And I certainly didn't know that Damien was already circling Lyra again, not with a proposal this time, but with something far more dangerous. A choice she might not be able to refuse.