Chapter 41
VIVIENNE
Morning comes all too soon. I barely got any sleep. I was already in pain after the Ogre attack, but after what happened last night with the rune stone, my entire body feels like one large bruise.
For a while, I simply lie where I am, staring up at the pale canvas roof of the tent. Auren has been constantly hovering over me, but he stepped out to speak with Dain and the others a few moments ago.
Voices murmur somewhere beyond the flap as the warriors break camp, readying for our journey. The smell of damp pine and smoke from last night’s fire lingers in the clearing, mingling with the sharp medicinal scent of the salves the healer used on my ribs earlier.
The healer—Meryl—walks in. “How are you feeling this morning? Did you sleep well last night?”
“Well enough,” I reply, not wanting to complain. She already tried to insist we spend another day here, but I’m eager to leave. The sooner we reach Elyrith, the better. Auren doesn’t think we’ll have any more trouble with Mountain Goblins or Ogres, but I’d rather not chance it.
“Hmmm,” Meryl hums in the back of her throat, seemingly unconvinced as she kneels beside me. Her cool hands hover over the bandages wrapped around my ribs. Faint threads of silver magic weave between her fingers, brushing across my skin like a soft whisper. “Is that better?”
I draw in a careful, deep breath. The pain is still there, sharp and stubborn beneath my ribs, but the magic has dulled the worst of it. “Yes.”
“I still do not think you should ride today.” Meryl studies me. “You really should take time to rest and recover.”
I already knew she would say that. “I’ll be fine.”
She arches a brow. “The king said you were stubborn.”
I almost smile at that, but then sadness tightens my chest again as I think of Auren.
Meryl glances toward the tent entrance where he stands just beyond the canvas speaking with one of his soldiers. Even from here I can see how often his gaze drifts back toward me, as though some part of him refuses to let me out of his sight.
“I will tell the king we must delay,” she says. “You need to—”
“No,” I say quickly. “We need to get everyone to the mountain, where it’s safe.”
“You don’t have to prove anything, my queen,” she says in a voice so low, I’m sure no one else can hear. “You’ve already earned the respect of our people with your bravery. They will understand that you need another day to heal.”
“It’s alright,” I insist. Gritting my teeth, I push myself up to sitting. “I’ll manage just fine.”
“Alright.” Meryl’s expression softens as she pats my hand. “But if the pain worsens, you must let me know.”
“I will,” I promise.
When she leaves the tent I sit there for a moment longer, staring at the folds of the bedroll beneath my hands while the weight of the past few days settles heavily in my chest.
Auren’s been so attentive it’s almost unbearable. Last night, every small sound I made woke him. He held me like I was something precious, easing my pain with his magic, and I hate how much warmth that memory stirs in me even now.
Pushing my thoughts aside, I somehow manage to get to my feet. Lyrea and Ailyn come and keep me company, while everyone finishes packing up our camp, until Dain comes to get them.
When I step out of the tent, Auren immediately heads toward me. His gaze travels over my form, concern shadowing his eyes. “Are you sure you’re up for this? We can stay behind with a few of the guards.”
“I’m fine,” I insist.
Over his shoulder, I see Meryl frown at my statement, and I narrow my eyes at my husband. “You told the healer I was stubborn.”
He blinks. “Well… you are, Vivienne.”
“Well, that doesn’t mean you have to tell everyone,” I huff. “If you spread rumors like that, people will think I’m difficult.”
A smirk twists his mouth. “Perhaps ‘resolute’ might be a better word then?” He rubs his chin thoughtfully. “How about… tenacious?”
I scoff. “That’s just another word for stubborn.”
He leans in, dropping his voice to a low whisper as he arches a teasing brow. “Are you saying you’re not?”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I am simply determined.”
“Very determined,” he replies with a grin. “Which I normally adore about you,” he adds. “But not today, my dear wife.” His expression sobers. “Not when you’ve been injured and could do with some rest.”
“I said I’m fine and I meant it.” Huffing out a frustrated sigh, I stop short of rolling my eyes. “Besides, I’ll have plenty of time to rest while we’re riding.”
As if in agreement, Vaelen moves to my side and nuzzles my arm. It takes me a moment before I realize he’s trying to get me to lie down.
“I’m alright, Vaelen,” I reassure him, stroking the fur. “Truly.”
His golden eyes flick to mine a moment, and his brows rise ever so slightly as if questioning this before he looks back at Auren and chuffs.
“See,” Auren says. “He agrees with me. Don’t you, Vaelen?”
The wolf chuffs again, and I laugh as I ruffle his fur. “I thought you were on my side.”
He looks back and forth between me and Auren, as if truly considering my words and not sure who to choose.
“It’s alright.” I laugh, as I pet him again. “We know you love us both equally.”
His large tail thumps excitedly on the ground as he nuzzles me again. And when Auren smiles at me, my breath catches, because for a moment I forgot everything that happened… including my sadness and anger.
“Everyone’s ready and awaiting your orders, your majesty,” one of Auren’s warriors says as he walks toward us. His gaze darts to me. “I’ve assembled a few warriors to stay behind if you and the Queen—”
“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary,” I tell him. “The King and I will be traveling with everyone else.”
The warrior bows low and then returns to his wolf.
Auren studies me a moment and then releases a resigned sigh. “If you’re sure about this, at least allow me to help you up.”
As his gaze holds mine, awaiting my answer, I remember the first time I trusted those blue eyes. They belonged to a man I believed I understood. A man I was falling in love with. Now… they belong to a King.
“Alright.” I nod.
Somehow, despite everything… when he smiles, my traitorous heart still skips a beat.
He lifts me onto Vaelen’s back. His hand remains at my waist just long enough to be sure I’m steady before he relinquishes his grip.
Carefully, he climbs into the saddle behind me, and we start up the path, toward the mountain. His thighs bracket mine and he feels so warm and familiar, I’m tempted to lean back against him. But I don’t.
He must mistake my stiffness for pain because he asks, “Does it hurt?”
“I’m fine,” I say, even as the ache in my ribs flares with every breath and something far sharper twists beneath it—something that has nothing to do with the physical wound.
“You don’t need to hide your pain from me, Vivienne.”
Bitterness fills me anew. For a fleeting, treacherous moment, I remember the nights on the road, the steady warmth of him at my back, the way I used to lean into him without thinking, trusting without question that he would never let harm come near me.
That version of him… that man never lied, and he never wore a crown.
“That’s an interesting thing to say,” I murmur, “considering you also told me I could trust you.”
The words slip out before I can stop them.
Just a few moments ago we were speaking amicably.
He even smiled at me, and I felt like everything was good again.
But for some reason, when he asked me about my pain, it made me think of the gaping wound in my heart.
It aches far worse than my physical injuries.
Regret follows instantly as Auren goes still behind me. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “And I know it’s not enough… and it doesn’t change what I did. But I—” He draws in a shaky breath. “Please, Vivienne, tell me what to do. Tell me how to make things right.”
I bite my lower lip to stop it from quivering. I’m not weak and I refuse to cry, so instead I look down at my hands. “I’m not sure you can,” I reply, because I don’t even know what it would take to trust him again.
Silence settles between us before I twist back to face him, searching his eyes. “I want—” my voice catches. “I want Auren, the soldier. The man I fell in love with.”
He gives me a pained look. “It’s still me, Vivienne.”
“Is it?” The question leaves my mouth before I can stop it.
His eyes flash with unmistakable hurt.
Before he can respond, I add, “I’m tired. Perhaps we should talk about this later.”
Reluctantly, he nods. “Of course.”
For a long while we ride without speaking.
The mountain road winds upward through the forest. The trees start to thin and the air grows colder as we ascend.
The scent of pine drifts through the faint mist, and beneath us Vaelen’s stride remains steady and tireless, his massive paws easily finding their way along the narrow trail.
The rhythm of the journey begins to settle into my bones. Despite the dull ache still lingering in my ribs, the motion of the ride slowly begins to pull me toward sleep.
I try to resist it. I tell myself to stay upright, to stay alert, to maintain the careful distance I have kept between us all morning. But as exhaustion moves through me, I find myself leaning back, into a familiar solid wall of warmth.
Auren loops his arm around my waist, and for a moment, everything falls away. I forget the lie, the crown, and the moment my heart was shattered.
Closing my eyes, I allow myself to sink into the feel of him holding me.
Then memory crashes back into place, and I stiffen instantly. Something pulls tight in my chest as I recall how easily I once rested against him, how naturally my body trusted the shelter of his arms.
Gods, I used to fall asleep like this. Used to close my eyes and know without question that the man behind me would never let harm come near.
The thought slices through me, and I start to pull away, but Auren shifts behind me. “It’s alright, Vivienne,” he murmurs, his breath warm in my ear. “I won’t assume anything. I know you’re tired. If you need the warmth and comfort, you may borrow it.”
My vision blurs as I blink back tears.
“I won’t mistake it for forgiveness,” he murmurs. “For I know I must earn it.”
The words are spoken so gently that they seem to settle directly into the fragile place deep within where my heart is still struggling to mend itself.
For a moment I cannot speak. I had expected anger, or pride, or some attempt to convince me I was wrong. Instead, he offers me something far more dangerous.
Patience.
I let out a slow breath. Part of me wants to pull away anyway, to put distance between us simply because I do not yet know how to exist beside him without remembering the pain of the truth.
But another part of me—the foolish, stubborn part that fell in love with him somewhere along the road—recognizes the sincerity in his voice, and it softens something inside me that I had sworn would remain hard.
“Let me take care of you,” he adds quietly.
The words are simple. But the gentleness in them slips past my defenses before I can stop it. Unable to speak, I nod.
As I settle back against him, the warmth of his body seeps through my cloak, steady and reassuring in a way that makes my sadness both better and worse at the same time.
I can feel the rise and fall of his breathing behind me, slow and controlled, as though he’s afraid even the smallest movement might break this fragile truce we have managed to build.
For a long time neither of us speaks as our group continues up the mountain path.
Despite everything that has happened… despite the lies and the hurt and the broken trust still hanging between, I cannot seem to stop loving him.
The realization settles inside me in a strange mixture of comfort and worry. Because loving him still feels as natural as breathing. And yet trusting him again feels like stepping onto a bridge I’m not certain will hold.
Sighing heavily, I push my thoughts aside. Wrapped in the warmth of the man who shattered my heart and somehow still holds it, I drift slowly into dreams before I can decide whether that truth is a blessing or a curse.