Chapter 33 Riley
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Riley
Someone handed me clothes.
Simple things - a tunic, trousers, boots that were slightly too big.
I pulled them on gratefully, finally covered after spending far too long naked in the cold.
A healer tended to my scratches, applying a salve that stung briefly before the wounds started knitting closed. Wolf healing was really growing on me.
Caelan was beside me the whole time.
He’d been treated too - his flank wound wrapped, the grime cleaned from his skin, fresh clothes covering his body. He hadn’t left my side since we emerged from the compound, hovering close enough to touch but not actually touching.
Things were slightly awkward between us.
There was so much unsaid. The rejection, the poison, the fight with Vix, the revelations about his past with her. It all hung in the air, present but not addressed. I didn’t know how to start that conversation. Didn’t have the energy for it right now. So I stayed quiet. He did too.
We were really nailing this whole communication thing.
After a few minutes, the compound doors opened again.
Wolves poured out, some carrying injured comrades, others walking under their own power. Guards emerged next, escorting cuffed men, traitors who survived the battle. I watched them pass, satisfaction curling in my chest.
And then Soren.
He was dragged out by two guards, his hands bound behind his back, his pale eyes fixed on the ground. He didn’t look up as they marched him past.
Good. I hoped he enjoyed the view of his own feet on his way to whatever dungeon they were taking him to.
And right behind him came Vix. She was still unconscious, or pretending to be, her hair matted with dirt. The guards carrying her weren’t gentle about it. Even better.
The King and Queen emerged last.
They were in human form now, dressed hastily, but still radiating authority. The kind of authority that made you stand up straighter without thinking about it. Elspeth’s eyes found me immediately, and she crossed to me with quick, purposeful steps.
“Thank you,” she said, taking my hands in hers. “Thessa told us about the papers you found. About what your parents discovered, what they died for.” Her voice cracked slightly. “We are grateful. And in your debt.”
I swallowed hard. “My family died for people they believed in. For people they were loyal to. That’s not your fault.”
“It feels like it is.”
“It isn’t.” I squeezed her hands. “I’m just glad you finally caught them. That justice will be served.”
One tear slipped down Elspeth’s cheek. She wiped it away quickly, composing herself, but the grief was visible. She’d lost a friend twenty-one years ago. Now she knew why.
The King approached, clapping a hand on Caelan’s shoulder before turning to me.
“You should know,” he said, his deep voice carrying, “that my son rejected you because your life was threatened. They used the poison as leverage. He had no choice.”
“I know that now,” I replied quietly.
The King nodded, and there was approval in his eyes. Then he turned to Caelan.
“I want to schedule the coronation as soon as possible. We need stability after this. The realm needs to see strength.”
Caelan’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Agreed.”
The King and Queen exchanged a look, then both glanced between Caelan and me. There was expectation in their expressions, along with hope and curiosity. I didn’t know what to make of it.
Thessa appeared at my side.
“Well,” she said brightly, “we’ll get going. There’s a horse for you two.” She jerked her head toward a pair of mounts waiting nearby. “Go to the cabin. You have things to talk about.”
God bless her. Best almost-sister-in-law ever.
So we rode.
Caelan guided the horse, me pressed against his back, my arms wrapped around his waist out of necessity. It was the closest we’d been since the battle, and despite everything - the hurt, the confusion, the unresolved issues between us - my body relaxed into his warmth.
I hated how natural it felt. Stupid traitorous body.
Luckily, he knew the way. The forest blurred past us, snow crunching under the horse’s hooves, the winter air biting at my cheeks. Neither of us spoke. There was too much to say to start with small talk.
Hours passed.
By the time we arrived at the cabin, I was exhausted. Bone-deep, soul-crushing exhaustion that made my legs wobble when I dismounted. Caelan steadied me, his hand warm on my elbow, and I let him.
The cabin looked different in the fading light. Smaller, somehow. More intimate.
We tied the horse in a small stable I hadn’t noticed before, oddly well-maintained, stocked with hay. Probably Thessa’s doing. We entered the cabin, the familiar scent of dust and old memories washing over me.
“We need to talk,” I said, breaking the silence for the first time in hours. “But I really, really need to shower and sleep first. Can we talk in the morning?”
Caelan nodded. “Of course.”
We had separate baths.
I scrubbed myself clean in the bathroom attached to my mother’s room, the one I’d claimed as my own. The water ran pink with dried blood before finally going clear. I stayed under the spray until my skin pruned, letting the warmth chase away the last of the cold.
I emerged dressed in another of my mother’s dresses to find Caelan already in the kitchen. He’d found food, simple things, bread and cheese and dried fruit, and he’d arranged them on the counter.
I joined him. We ate in silence, passing items back and forth, and the domestic normalcy of it was almost jarring after everything we’d been through. Here we were, sharing a meal in my dead parents’ cabin, not talking about any of the massive issues between us. Very healthy.
Then came the dilemma of the rooms.
We stood in the hallway, suddenly awkward again. There were multiple bedrooms. He could take any of them. We could sleep apart, maintain boundaries, keep things professional until we’d had our conversation.
But my body ached for him.
My wolf whined, wanting its mate close. My human heart, despite everything, craved his presence. We needed to talk. There was work to do before we could move forward. But I also knew I’d sleep better with him beside me.
“You can sleep in my bed,” I said at last. “Just sleep.”
His eyes flashed with relief, hope, longing - before he schooled his expression into careful neutrality. He was trying so hard to give me space. It was almost cute.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Just... sleep.”
He nodded, a little too eager despite his attempt to hide it. “Okay.”
Smooth, Caelan. Very subtle.
We lay down on opposite sides of the bed.
The space between us felt vast, a chasm of unspoken words and unresolved hurt. I stared at the ceiling, acutely aware of his breathing, his warmth, the way the mattress dipped where he lay.
But exhaustion won. Within minutes, I was asleep.
***
When I woke, sunlight was streaming through the window, painting golden stripes across the bed. My body felt better, rested, my remaining aches almost nothing now. Supernatural healing was officially my favorite perk of this whole werewolf thing.
And Caelan was wrapped around me from behind.
His arm was draped across my waist, his chest pressed to my back, his breath steady against my neck. We must have migrated toward each other in sleep, drawn together by instinct or the bond or simple human need.
So much for opposite sides of the bed.
I closed my eyes. Allowed myself one moment of happiness.
He was here. The nightmare was over. Soren was captured, Vix was locked away, and the man who killed my parents would face justice. For the first time in weeks, I was safe.
But we still needed to talk.
I untangled myself from his embrace, careful not to wake him - though I failed. His eyes fluttered open as I sat up, confusion giving way to awareness.
“Morning,” I said softly.
“Morning.” His voice was rough with sleep. Unfairly attractive, honestly.
I got up, freshened up in the bathroom, and changed into a clean dress, my mother’s again, a soft green wool that fit almost perfectly. By the time I stepped out, Caelan had done the same, wearing clothes that must have been left in one of the other rooms.
We gathered the remaining snacks and took them to the living room.
The fire had died overnight, but the room wasn’t too cold. I settled on one end of the sofa, tucking my legs beneath me. Caelan took the other end, leaving space between us.
“So,” I said.
“So.”
Silence. This was going well.
Then he exhaled.
“I want to tell you everything,” he said. “From the beginning. The threats, the notes, the poison. All of it.”
“Okay.”
He did. He started with discovering I’d been poisoned. Then the notes demanding he reject me or watch me die. The impossible choice, my heart or my life, and how there was no choice at all. My life would always win.
The staged rejection came next. How he closed the bond so I wouldn’t feel his agony. How every word he said was a lie designed to save me. How he wanted to run after me the moment it was done but couldn’t, because my safety depended on the deception being complete.
Finally, the antidote. Sending it with Thessa. Learning I’d been kidnapped and nearly tearing the realm apart to find me.
Through all of it, his voice stayed steady. His eyes never left mine. It was, frankly, the most romantic explanation of emotional devastation I’d ever heard. I should take notes for my next book.
When he finished, I was quiet.
I was hurt. Angry. All those emotions were still there, simmering beneath the surface. But I couldn’t hold onto them, not when I knew why he did it. Not when every terrible thing he said was spoken to keep me alive.
“I understand,” I told him. “Why you did it. I do.”
Relief flooded his features.
“But.” I held up a hand. “Trust takes time to rebuild. I know it wasn’t real, but I felt it. The rejection. The abandonment. That doesn’t just go away because I understand the logic behind it.”
His expression fell, but he nodded. “I know. I’ll wait. However long you need. I’ll prove myself.”
“You will.” I tried to sound stern. Probably failed. It’s hard to be stern when someone’s looking at you with those golden eyes full of desperate hope.
“I’m sorry.” His voice cracked. “I’m so sorry I hurt you. I never wanted-”
“I know.” I reached out, touched his hand. Just briefly. “You didn’t want to hurt me.”
He captured my fingers before I could pull away. Held them gently.
“I’m really, really happy you’re with child,” he said, his tone softening. “I know it might be overwhelming right now - everything that’s happened, everything that’s still happening. But I want you to know I’m here. For you. For the baby. For whatever you need.”
My heart squeezed. Damn him for being sweet when I was trying to maintain appropriate emotional distance.
“Thank you.”
“And...” He hesitated. Took a breath. “I want to make you my queen.”
I stared at him, certain I’d misheard. “What?”
“My queen.” He said it with that infuriating calm, completely matter-of-fact. “My father is scheduling the coronation. I’ll be king soon. And I don’t want to take that throne without you beside me. Without you ruling with me.”
“Caelan, I-” I shook my head, overwhelmed. “What the hell do I know about ruling? I’m a romance author from the human world. I’ve been a wolf for two weeks. I don’t know anything about politics or diplomacy or-”
“You know people.” He cut me off gently. “You understand them. You see through pretense. You’re brave. You’re kind. You’re strong. You’re resilient. You’re compassionate.”
My cheeks flushed. “That’s a lot of adjectives.”
“They’re all true.”
“You’re biased.”
“I’m observant.” His thumb stroked across my knuckles. “You don’t need to know politics. That can be learned. What can’t be taught is character. And yours is extraordinary.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. My brain was short-circuiting. Queen. He wanted me to be queen. Me. Riley Hawkins. The woman who couldn’t even keep a literary agent without getting financially abused.
“I’ll think about it,” I managed.
He nodded, accepting that. Not pushing. Points for him.
Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring.
It was antique - old gold, intricate filigree, a deep blue stone set in the center. It belonged in a museum. Or on a queen’s finger.
My breath caught.
“My mother gave this to me,” he said. “For you. It’s been in our family for generations. It was her mother’s, and her mother’s before that.”
“Caelan...”
“It’s a promise,” he continued. “That I’m serious. That this isn’t a passing fancy or a mistake or any of the things Vix accused our bond of being. I love you, Riley. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And I’ll spend every day of that life proving it.”
I took the ring. Examined it. The stone caught the light, deep and endless.
This was insane. Completely, utterly insane. Two months ago I was crying in my apartment over rejection letters. Now I was being offered a crown and a prince and a literal fairy tale ending.
Life was weird. Also, apparently, a romance novel. I really should have seen that coming.
“I accept the ring,” I said slowly. “But you’re still in dangerous waters.”
His lips quirked. “I’m aware.”
“There’s a lot of work to do. Trust to rebuild. Conversations to have.”
“I know.”
“And if you ever - ever - keep secrets from me again, for any reason-”
“I won’t.” He said it fiercely. “I swear on everything I am. No more secrets. No more decisions made without you. You’re my partner. My equal. I should have trusted you with the truth from the beginning, and I will never make that mistake again.”
I searched his eyes. Found nothing but sincerity.
“Okay.” I slipped the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly - of course it did. Because apparently even jewelry was conspiring to make this fairy tale thing happen. “Okay.”
He reached for me. Pulled me across the sofa until I was pressed against his side, my head on his shoulder, the ring glinting on my hand.
“I love you,” he murmured against my hair.
“I know.” I paused. “I love you too, by the way. In case that wasn’t obvious.”
“It was.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “But it’s nice to hear.”
“Every day. For the rest of our lives. I’ll show you.”
I smiled despite myself. “I’m eager to see you do so.”