The Wolf's Queen Vows

Chapter 53: The visit

The palace was quieter now. The laughter and music from the feast had faded into distant noise, like a memory that didn’t quite belong to the stillness of the night.

Aveloria walked quickly through the dim corridor, ignoring the guards who bowed as she passed. Her gown brushed against the stone floor as she turned toward the infirmary. She couldn’t bring herself to stay in the feast after what had happened, not after Eirene’s words.

She needed space, and more than that, she needed to see Galen.

When she entered the infirmary, the air smelled of herbs and antiseptic oil. The lamps were dimmed, and the healers crept between the beds.

"Is he awake?" she asked one of the physicians.

The older man looked up. "No, my lady. He fell asleep a while ago. His wounds are healing faster than expected. You should rest, too."

Aveloria walked over to his bedside. Galen was lying there, shirtless, his chest bandaged, his breathing calm and steady. His face looked peaceful for the first time in days.

She reached for his hand gently, her fingers brushing his. He didn’t stir. For a moment, she just watched him. "You did well. You always do." She whispered.

The physician cleared his throat softly, reminding her of his presence. She released Galen’s hand and straightened.

"Let me know when he wakes," she said before leaving.

When she stepped out of the infirmary, the palace was almost deserted. The guards stationed near the main hall stood half-distracted, still under the comfort of wine and food. She made her way back to her chambers, her footsteps echoing faintly through the corridor.

She unlocked the door and stepped in. The room was dark except for the faint light from the fireplace. She was about to close the door when she felt it, a shift in the air, the scent of smoke, steel, and something unmistakably familiar.

Her body tensed. She turned sharply.

"Lucien?"

There was a brief silence, then a low chuckle came from the corner near the window.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to notice," he said, stepping out of the shadows.

He was dressed in dark clothes, with dirt on his boots, and a dangerous ease in the way he moved, as if he owned the room.

Aveloria blinked, startled. "What are you doing here? How did you even get in?"

Lucien smirked. "You ask too many questions."

"Lucien," she said more firmly. "This is the palace. There are guards everywhere."

He shrugged, walking closer. "The feast was enough to distract them. You think anyone’s guarding your hallway when there’s free wine downstairs?"

She frowned, closing the door behind her. "That’s not the point. If they find you here—"

"Then I’ll tell them I got lost," he said lightly.

"Lucien," she warned.

He grinned, holding up his hands. "Relax. No one saw me. I’ve done this before."

"That’s exactly what I’m afraid of."

He gave a small laugh. "You worry too much. I’m fine."

She crossed her arms. "You could’ve sent word. Why come here?"

His expression softened slightly. "Because I was worried."

Aveloria blinked. "Worried?"

"I heard about the patrol," he said quietly. "The fight. The Wanderers. Everything."

Her chest tightened. "How?"

"I have ears everywhere," he said. "Word travels. You were out there fighting monsters while I wasn’t even around to watch your back."

She looked away, unsure what to say.

He took a slow step forward. "I should’ve been there, Aveloria."

"You couldn’t have known," she said. "And you being there wouldn’t have changed what happened."

He shook his head. "Maybe it would’ve. Maybe if I’d marked you when you asked, I would’ve felt it, and I would’ve been there all along. I’d have helped fight the wanderers."

Her eyes lifted to his. "Don’t say that. This isn’t your fault."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Still feels like it."

She walked past him to the table and began unclipping the gown. "You don’t need to blame yourself. I’m glad you didn’t mark me yet."

Lucien tilted his head. "You’re glad?"

"Yes," she said. "I wasn’t ready."

He watched her quietly for a moment. "So you don’t regret asking?"

"No," she said. "But I’m glad you said no."

Lucien’s expression softened, then shifted into something more mischievous. "You’re not angry at me then?"

She turned toward him, giving a small smile. "You’ve never given me much reason to be angry. Annoyed, maybe."

He laughed softly. "I can live with that."

He walked closer again, his movements slow and deliberate until he was standing right in front of her. The air between them changed.

"Come here," he said quietly.

"Lucien—"

He didn’t wait. He pulled her into his arms, his hold firm, almost possessive. "You scared me," he murmured against her hair. "I thought I’d lose you before I even had the chance to fight for you."

She closed her eyes, her arms wrapping around him without thinking. "You’re here now," she said.

He didn’t answer right away. His breath was warm against her neck. "I’m not leaving until dawn," he said finally. "I want to stay with you. Like the others do."

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him. "Lucien—"

He grinned. "What? It’s only fair. You’ve been busy bonding with the others."

"Don’t start," she said, trying not to smile.

He tilted his head, his eyes glinting with amusement. "You do look different, you know. Softer. Happier, maybe."

"I don’t know what you mean."

He gave a low chuckle. "Sure you don’t." Then, casually, he added, "So...have you slept with any of them?"

Aveloria froze halfway through removing her earrings. "What?"

"You heard me."

She rolled her eyes. "That’s none of your business." frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

"Of course it is. You’re my mate. And I deserve to know." He said.

"You’re impossible."

Lucien smiled, though the edge in his voice was sharper when he said, "So which one?"

"Lucien," she warned.

He took a slow breath, his tone tightening. "Galen or Theron?"

Her silence was enough of an answer. His jaw flexed. "Both?"

She met his eyes, steady. "Yes. Both."

He stared at her, the muscle in his jaw twitching, then gave a short, humorless laugh. "That’s...unexpected."

"You asked," she said calmly.

"Yeah, I did," he muttered. "I guess I was hoping the answer would piss me off less."

Aveloria turned back toward her wardrobe, untying the sash at her waist. "You shouldn’t be jealous."

"I’m not jealous," he said.

"You are."

"Fine," he said, moving closer. "Maybe a little."

She didn’t respond.

After a moment, he asked quietly, "What about me, Aveloria?"

She paused. "What about you?"

"What do you think of me? As your mate."

She turned slowly, studying him. He looked serious now, not playful or teasing, but raw and uncertain in a way that was rare for him.

"I think," she said carefully, "that you’re bold. Reckless. Dangerous, sometimes. But you make me feel something I can’t explain. Like I can breathe around you, even when everything else feels heavy."

Lucien’s gaze stayed on her, unwavering. "That’s a good thing, I guess."

"It is," she said softly. "You’re not just a rogue to me, Lucien. You’re part of something bigger. You’re my mate. I see more than what the world sees in you."

He exhaled slowly, almost relieved. "You really mean that?"

"I do."

He smiled. "Good. Because I don’t plan on being just another name on your bond, I’m not like them."

"I know."

"Do you?" he asked, his voice low.

"Yes," she said again, meeting his eyes. "You’re you. And that’s enough."

He watched her as she moved to the dresser and began unfastening the rest of her gown. The silk slid down her shoulders, revealing the curve of her back. He didn’t look away. Instead, he let out a low growl.

"Lucien, don’t," she said without turning.

He ignored her. He stepped closer, his hand brushing her arm lightly before settling on her bare shoulder. His touch was warm and steady.

"Tell me to stop," he said quietly.

She didn’t.

He turned her gently to face him. Her gown slipped further, revealing her skin. His eyes stayed locked on hers.

"Aveloria," he said softly.

"What?"

"Don’t lie to me," he said. "Tell me you don’t want this."

She hesitated. The space between them was small now, the air heavy with everything left unsaid.

"I didn’t say that," she whispered.

He leaned in slowly, his hand sliding up to her neck, tilting her chin upward. Then he kissed her. The kiss was deep, desperate, one that showed that he’d been holding back for too long. She responded instinctively, her hands clutching his shirt.