Chapter Sixteen;- Secrets and Soft Spots
795 Words
---
(Leyla POV)
Life had found a rhythm again.
School. Infirmary work. Samir. Homework. Meals that weren’t stale or rationed.
Safe. Quiet. Ordinary.
And yet… not quite ordinary.
Because some names lingered longer than they should.
And some hearts refused to behave.
---
“You still think about him, don’t you?” warda said one afternoon, leaning against the infirmary doorway while I cleaned bandages.
I flushed, trying to hide the smile that crept up.
“I don’t,” I said firmly.
Warda raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Uh-huh. Sure. You remember the warrior who rescued us, right? The one who kept his promise?”
I paused, letting out a soft laugh. “Yes, I remember. He… he was strong. Kind. Everything a person could hope for.”
Warda’s grin widened. “Ohhh… I think you remember more than that.”
I rolled my eyes. “Go on, Warda. I’m working.”
She didn’t leave.
I couldn’t help myself.
“You know,” I whispered later, leaning closer so no one else would hear, “I know who he is.”
Warda blinked. “Who?”
“The warrior who saved us two years ago. And rescued us again from the rogues.” My voice softened. “Idris.”
Her mouth fell open.
“Yes,” I continued quietly. “Son of Silver Claw’s Alpha. The silver knight in armor. The same strength. The same eyes. The same calm.”
Warda tilted her head slowly. “Must be… a soft spot in your heart, huh?”
I laughed, pretending it meant nothing.
But it meant everything.
---
one morning Warda and I were passing near the training grounds when a cluster of young women stood gathered near the water station. At the center of them stood Salma.
Perfect posture. Perfect smile.
“Idris returns soon,” she was saying, voice smooth but carrying authority. “He has completed Alpha training. He will be crowned.”
The girls nodded eagerly.
Salma’s eyes swept over them assessing, measuring.
“As future Luna,” she continued lightly, “I expect Silver Claw’s women to carry themselves with dignity. No foolish infatuations. No embarrassing attempts to gain attention.”
A soft laugh from someone in the group.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
“I would hate for anyone to misunderstand their… position.”
The words were gentle.
The warning was not.
My stomach tightened.
Warda glanced at me carefully.
Salma’s gaze shifted just briefly in my direction.
Not long enough to accuse.
Long enough to acknowledge.
Then she turned back to her audience, radiant and untouchable.
I lowered my eyes and walked away.
---
That night, Samir fell asleep quickly, clutching the small wooden wolf one of the warriors had carved for him.
I sat by the window, staring at the moon.
Idris.
His name moved through my thoughts like wind through leaves.
I remembered the way he had carried Samir without hesitation. The way he had stood between us and danger. The way his eyes had searched the battlefield not for glory, but for survivors.
I pressed my fingers to my chest.
“Stop,” I whispered to myself.
He was Alpha-in-waiting.
Salma had made that very clear.
And I was…
Just a survivor.
Just a healer’s assistant.
Just a girl rebuilding her life from ashes.
Still… the heart refused logic.
And beneath the quiet, something deeper stirred a warmth I could not explain.
---
A week later, walking home from school, Warda struck again.
“What if he’s your mate?”
I froze instantly, my hand flying to cover her mouth.
“Don’t,” I hissed. “Don’t say that.”
She pulled my hand away, whispering dramatically, “Why? Afraid the Moon will hear me?”
“You know he’s meant for Lady Salma,” I said sharply. “Everyone knows. Don’t even joke about it.”
Warda studied me for a moment teasing fading into something softer.
“But what if the Moon doesn’t care about plans?” she murmured.
I couldn’t answer.
Because somewhere, deep inside, that question terrified me.
What if destiny did not follow tradition?
What if fate ignored expectations?
What if the Moon had already decided?
I shook my head firmly.
“No,” I said, more to myself than to her. “It doesn’t matter.”
But my heartbeat betrayed me.
---
That night, as I lay beside Samir listening to the distant sounds of patrol shifts changing, I realized something dangerous.
Salma could warn.
The pack could assume.
Tradition could demand.
But the heart…
The heart does not ask permission.
And somewhere far from Silver Claw, beneath the same moon, a name echoed in someone else’s thoughts too.
I just didn’t know it yet. 🌙
- Writer
