Chapter 38
AUREN
Morning arrives gray and cold. Mist curls through the fortress courtyard, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. Somewhere above the ramparts a raven cries once before taking flight into the pale sky. It carries my message to the Goblin King, threatening war if he dares try to come for my wife.
My hand rests against Vaelen’s thick fur while I watch the caravan prepare to leave. Warriors move about with efficient purpose, tightening saddles, securing packs, murmuring instructions to their families, while children cling sleepily to their parents’ cloaks.
It should feel routine, like any other departure. Instead, a heavy weight settles in my chest as my gaze lands upon Vivienne.
She stands near the open gates wrapped in a dark cloak, her red hair tied loosely at the nape of her neck. The bandages beneath her clothes are hidden well enough that a stranger might think she has already recovered from the battle.
But I know better. I see the careful way she moves, and the way her shoulders stiffen when she shifts her weight. And I know that the wounds she received during the battle are not the only ones she carries this morning… Those are mine.
She’s hurting, and she refuses to show it. The realization presses another blade of guilt into my chest.
Old Vivienne would have demanded a carriage, a personal physician directly at her side, and an entourage of servants to ensure the journey caused her no discomfort whatsoever.
This Vivienne simply pulls her cloak tighter and prepares to ride. Even though she’s angry with me, she will not use her sharp tongue to eviscerate me like I know I deserve. She’s holding herself together in silence.
A blur of movement breaks across the courtyard. My heart stops when I realize it’s Dain’s daughter—Ailyn—and she’s heading straight toward Vivienne.
“Ailyn!” Lyrea calls sharply, chasing after her.
Dain and I rush to catch her as well, but we’re too late as the child slams into her side with a soft thump.
Vivienne’s breath leaves her in a quiet oof.
Instinctively, I take a step toward her, wanting to ask if she’s alright, but her sharp gaze snaps to mine, her eyes flashing with anger.
She doesn’t want my help anymore. And I’ve no one to blame but myself for having broken her trust.
Vivienne hisses through her teeth, pressing her hand to her side, directly over her bandaged wounds, but she quickly hides her discomfort as Ailyn throws her arms around her waist.
“Vivienne!” Ailyn smiles. “I’m so glad you’re all better.”
Vivienne embraces her in return. “Thank you, little one.”
Lyrea and Dain hurry over, their expressions apologetic.
“I’m so sorry,” Lyrea says. “She shouldn’t have run at you like that. You’re still injured.”
Vivienne shakes her head. “It’s alright.”
Her voice is calm, but when she looks at them, sadness passes briefly behind her eyes, and I know exactly why. It’s because they knew she had no idea I was the king. Both of them kept the truth from her just as surely as I did.
Vaelen huffs beside me, nudging my arm. I run my fingers through the thick fur along his neck, letting the familiar warmth of the bond settle my thoughts. For a moment, the world flickers with shared sensation, and he projects an image in my mind.
It’s of Vivienne standing alone in a clearing, her shoulders shaking with sobs. Judgment rolls through the bond like distant thunder as I realize it’s his way of showing me she feels alone and abandoned—a wolf without a pack. His golden eyes meet mine, full of disapproval.
I convey back to him that I know what he’s saying and I’m trying to figure out how to fix it.
He chuffs at me, then walks over to her, nuzzling her arm.
She buries her face in the thick fur along his neck as she hugs him in return. “Thank you,” she whispers in a voice so low I almost miss it.
After a moment, they both turn their heads toward me, and I swallow hard. If either of them had anything to say about it, I’m sure I’d be walking the rest of the journey.
Sighing heavily, I stride over to them. Helping Vivienne onto Vaelen’s back used to feel effortless, but now the moment stretches awkwardly between us.
Carefully, I wrap my hands around her waist and lift her, placing her into the saddle. The motion draws a faint wince from her before she can hide it.
“Are you alright? Do you need me to fetch the healer to give you more medicine for the pain?”
She tips up her chin, refusing to meet my gaze. “I’m fine.”
I climb onto the saddle behind her. She used to lean back against me without thinking, her weight settling easily against my chest as though she had always belonged there.
Now she sits stiffly upright, careful not to touch me at all. The space between us is no more than a few inches, but it might as well be a canyon. And I realize with a slow, sick certainty that she is protecting herself from me the way one might protect a wound from further injury.
I would give anything to close the distance between us.
Instead, I keep my hands on the reins and pretend I don’t notice. “Are you sure you’re alright?” I cannot help but ask again. I hate that she’s in so much discomfort and I want only to help ease her pain.
“I’ll manage,” she replies sharply, her tone brooking no argument. “I’m just eager to leave.”
We ride for hours, following the main path steadily toward the mountain. The wolves move easily across the rocky ground, their strides long and tireless.
Vivienne doesn’t complain. Not even when the trail becomes steep, and I know every jolt must send pain through her ribs. She simply rides in silence.
Gods help me. How did I ever believe I was protecting her by lying?
At the time, I thought my plan was rather noble. She’d already chased off all the other potential suitors. With no choices left, she would soon be faced with a forced marriage to the Goblin King to appease the terms of her father’s bargain.
Our bonding would prevent her from being trapped in a fate she did not want.
Having been raised by a father who had indulged her every whim, I thought she’d be overjoyed once she learned the truth of who I am.
That she’d be pleased to know she was marrying a king who would give her anything and everything she asked for.
One who would expect nothing from her that she was not willing to give.
When I spoke with her on the bench in the castle gardens, she thought I was a common soldier and dismissed the idea of the Dark Elf King’s interest in her entirely.
I shouldn’t have lied. But I couldn’t risk her refusing me when refusal would have cost her everything, trapping her in a marriage to a monster like the Goblin King.
I asked for thirty days to prove myself to her, but I should have told her the truth much sooner. Now, I must find a way to win her back.
We stop near dusk in a small clearing sheltered by broken stone outcroppings. Fires are built quickly, and the soldiers settle their families while the wolves stretch out around the perimeter of the camp.
Vivienne sits near one of the fires with Ailyn.
I watch from across the clearing as she tells the little girl a story, while the child curls against her side. The other soldiers notice too. I see them glance toward her more than once.
Many of them witnessed her bravery during the battle, and how she placed herself in harm’s way to save Dain’s child. She has earned their respect.
She laughs at something Ailyn says, and the sound slices through me with unexpected force. That laugh once belonged to me. I remember the way it felt to hear it in the dark beside a campfire, to believe it meant she was happy with me.
When the story ends, Ailyn hugs her tightly before running back to her parents.
Night settles slowly over the clearing, the last threads of twilight fading behind the jagged black line of the mountains until the campfires become the only warmth in the gathering dark.
One by one the warriors quiet, voices lowering to murmurs as bedrolls are laid out across the ground and the wolves settle around the tents.
Vivienne winces as she rises from the fire. The careful way she walks toward our tent tells me the ache in her ribs is worse than she will admit.
Stars above, I wish she would complain. I don’t understand why she won’t let anyone help her. I begged her several times today, to please let the healer do something for the pain she swears is not a problem, despite all the signs that insist otherwise.
I miss her sharp tongue, and the way she would make impossible demands along our journey. I never wanted to extinguish the bold and fiery spirit that burns so brightly inside her.
She loved me yesterday morning. Gods help me, she looked at me like a man she wanted to build a future with. And now she won’t even meet my gaze.
The thought that she might never look at me that way again twists through me with quiet brutality. My jaw tightens as resolve floods my veins. She is everything to me, and I will find a way to convince her to fall in love with me again.
When she enters our tent, I follow after her. The canvas shifts as I step inside. The Fae lantern hanging from the center pole throws pale gold light over the small space, illuminating the two bedrolls already laid out across the floor.
Vaelen is already lying down in his nest of blankets in the corner, his golden eyes observing us with quiet judgment.
For a moment I simply stand there, watching her as she tries to unfasten the ties of her tunic dress so she can sleep in only her shift.
“Would you like some help removing your—”
“No,” she says sharply. “I’ll just sleep in my clothes.”
I give her a reluctant nod as I bite my tongue.
Vivienne kneels slowly beside one of the bedrolls, one hand pressing lightly against her side as though steadying the ache before it can steal her breath.
I force myself to speak. “Please, let me help you.”