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Chapter Five: When He Finally Came
The room smelled faintly of crushed herbs and lavender oil.
Light filtered gently through the sheer curtains, casting gold patterns across the floor of the healer's quarters. The walls were lined with shelves of dried roots, tinctures, and blood soaked bandages. A bowl of water sat untouched on the bedside table, beside a folded cloth that had long gone cold.
On the cot near the window, Lyra Hale lay still, pale, quiet, eyes half lidded as the world moved slowly around her.
Her shoulder was bandaged tightly, her ribs wrapped in silk strips stained with the deep rust of healing blood. Every breath she took was a small battle, a tug of war between bone and air. But she didn't cry. She didn't complain.
She just... waited.
"Come on, Lyra," Aria whispered gently, spooning broth from a wooden bowl. "Just a little. You haven't eaten in two days."
Lyra shook her head without speaking.
"Please, for me?" Aria begged, moving closer. "I boiled this myself. Chicken and wild yam. You like that, don't you?"
Lyra turned her face to the wall.
Aria sighed, setting the bowl aside with a gentle clink. "He's not coming, therefore stop waiting for him."
Lyra fought back a tear.
"You're hurting yourself for nothing, Ly. You almost died. You saved him and he hasn't come. Not once...doesn't this tell you anything?"
"It tells me he's busy," Lyra murmured. "He's... he's the Prince. And Alpha to be. He has responsibilities."
Aria's expression twisted with pity and frustration. "Is that what you really believe, or is that what you're telling yourself to keep breathing?"
Lyra was silent for a long moment.
Then she whispered, "He'll come."
"Lyra..."
"He will," she said more firmly. "He has to. He was inches from death. I shielded him. Took the bite meant for him. That means something. It has to."
Aria stood and paced the room, fingers knotted in her hair.
"You're still doing this?" she snapped. "After everything? He doesn't notice you and the times he did, he humiliated you in front of everyone yet you nearly bled out for him!"
"I wanted to."
"That's not love, Lyra! That's madness! You're breaking yourself for someone who couldn't care less if you live or die!"
Lyra sat up slowly, clutching her ribs. "Don't say that."
"I have to say that," Aria snapped. "Because nobody else will! Because everyone else lets you drown in your fantasies and I'm the only one trying to keep you afloat!"
Tears filled Lyra's eyes. "You don't understand..."
"No, you're right. I don't understand how someone as kind and beautiful and brave as you can fall for a man who hasn't spared you a kind word since you existed!"
Lyra shook her head, her voice trembling. "He's not like that. You only see the outside."
"No. You only see what you want to see."
The door creaked open before Lyra could respond.
A young palace guard poked his head in. "The Crowned Prince is approaching."
Lyra gasped.
Aria's eyes widened. "Wait...what?"
The guard gave a respectful nod and disappeared.
Lyra pushed herself upright, eyes shining, lips trembling into the first real smile in days. "He's coming. Aria, he's coming...I knew he would, I told you he would."
Aria's mouth opened, but no words came.
"He's coming to thank me," Lyra whispered. "Maybe to apologize. Maybe to... to hold my hand."
She smoothed her hair with shaking fingers, ignoring the pain in her ribs. "Do I look pale? Do I need lip balm?"
"You need a helmet," Aria muttered under her breath. "And a restraining order."
The door opened again, this time slower, heavier.
Boots on stone. Leather. Steel.
Ronan Blackthorn entered the healer's room like a storm dressed in skin. His presence silenced the world. His eyes were dark, unreadable, his jaw tight with something dangerous. The room shrank around him.
He looked at her then spoke.
"What the hell were you thinking?"
Lyra blinked. "I...I..."
"Throwing yourself into battle like some rabid mutt?" His voice was cold, clipped, like metal against bone. "Do you realize how reckless that was?"
"I...You were in danger..."
"I wasn't," he growled. "I had control."
"You were surrounded," Lyra said, voice cracking. "I saw blood. I...I thought you needed..." She stuttered and struggled to breathe.
"I didn't ask for your help."
"You didn't have to," she whispered. "I just..."
"You made me look weak."
The words struck like a blade.
She froze. "What?"
Ronan took a step forward, his face hard as stone. "You shamed me in front of my warriors. In front of the enemy. A female, an unranked, untrained female jumping into battle like a child with a death wish."
Lyra opened her mouth, but no sound came.
"You undermined my authority and power," he continued. "You distracted my men. You nearly died, and now the entire kingdom whispers about how their Crowned Alpha was 'saved' by a common girl with a sewing needle."
"I wasn't trying to embarrass you," she said weakly. "I was trying to protect you."
"I didn't need your protection!" he roared, slamming his hand on the windowsill. The glass rattled. Aria shrunk.
"I didn't care about your rank," Lyra said quietly, eyes wide with tears. "I just cared about you."
"Don't ever do that again."
His voice was suddenly soft, low and lethal.
"Whatever you mean by care."
Lyra's hands trembled in her lap. "I can't."
He stepped back like her words disgusted him. "Are you a fool?"
She gasped like he'd struck her.
"I don't want your eyes following me. I don't want your attention. Or your care. Or your stupid stitched tunics or your damn daydreams." He leaned in, voice like poison. "You are nothing, Lyra Hale. And you will never be my equal. You will never be my Luna if that's what you thought. So stop acting like you're owed anything."
Silence crashed into the room.
Lyra's lips quivered.
"I wasn't expecting to be your Luna," she whispered. Deep down she knew she was lying.
He stared at her.
"I was just hoping to matter." She managed to say.
Ronan didn't answer, he turned and walked out without another word.
The door slammed behind him.
And Lyra broke.
She didn't cry, she collapsed. Her body folded in on itself as if his words had shattered every bone in her chest. The sobs came soundless at first, then sharp and full, ripping out of her like a wounded animal.
"Lyra...no, no, no..." Aria was beside her in a second, gathering her in her arms, stroking her hair, whispering whatever comfort she could. "Don't cry for him. He's not worth this. He's not..."
But Lyra didn't hear her.
Her world had ended the moment he walked away.
"I love him," she choked out. "I love him so much."
"I know, baby. I know."
"I bled for him. I would've died..."
"I know."
"Why doesn't he see me?" she sobbed. "Why won't he ever see me?"
Aria held her tighter, tears slipping down her own cheeks now. "He's blind, Ly. He's blind and cruel and broken in ways you can't fix."
"I thought he'd thank me."
"I know."
"I thought I finally meant something."
"You do. Just not to him. But you do."
Lyra cried until there were no tears left to cry. Until her throat went raw and her chest ached more than her wounds.
Until the sun dipped behind the trees and the scent of crushed herbs faded from the air.
And still, he didn't come back.