Chapter 7: The King’s Library.
1596 Words
The first 3 days in Virek, Lyra didn’t speak to anyone.
She ate what the servants left at her door. She slept in Kael’s too-big coat on top of the blankets. She watched the snow from the window until her eyes burned.
And she avoided him.
Because every time King Kael walked into a room, the air got heavy. Like before a storm. Like the whole keep was holding its breath. And Lyra didn’t know if she was scared of him… or scared of wanting him.
On the 4th morning, a servant finally dragged her to the library.
“My lady,” the girl whispered, eyes wide. “His Majesty said you’re to read. Idle minds invite bad thoughts. He said… he said to tell you the fire is warm.”
The library was massive. Floor to ceiling shelves of dark wood. Ladders. Two fireplaces. The smell of old paper, cedar, and something else. Something that reminded her of Kael.
And he was already there.
He sat in a high-backed chair by the fire, no armor. Just a black shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Reading. A book bigger than her head in his hands. His hair was damp like he’d just come from the cold.
He looked up when she entered.
“You’re up early,” he said.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Again.” It wasn’t a question.
He gestured to the chair across from him. “Sit. Read. Or don’t. But stop pacing my halls like a ghost. The servants are scared of you.”
Lyra sat. The chair was warm from him. The coat was still around her shoulders even though the room was hot.
For an hour, neither spoke. Just the crackle of fire and pages turning.
It was the most peaceful Lyra had felt since Blackridge. No whispers. No Selene. No Darius.
Until Kael closed his book with a _thud_ that made her jump.
“You’re staring,” he said.
Lyra jerked. “I’m not—”
“You are.” His silver eyes were on her now. Not reading. Watching. Assessing. “At my scars.”
She’d been caught. The thin white line on his jaw. The one on his forearm peeking from his sleeve. The one disappearing under his collar.
“Do they hurt?” she whispered before she could stop herself.
“Not anymore.” He leaned forward, elbows on knees. The firelight made his eyes look like molten silver. “Do yours?”
Lyra’s hand flew to her chest. To the dead mark under the coat. The gray crescent.
“Yes.”
Kael’s jaw ticked. He stood and walked to the shelves. Pulled down a thick book.
“Here.” He dropped it in her lap. _Lycan Laws and Bond Rites._ Heavy. Old. “If you’re going to be my ward, you should know what that means. What rights you have. What I can and can’t do.”
Lyra opened it. The words blurred. Legal terms. Old language.
“I can’t focus,” she admitted quietly.
“Because you’re afraid.”
She looked up. “Of you?”
“No.” Kael crouched in front of her. Suddenly he was eye level. Too close. She could smell cedar and fire and snow on him.
“Of choosing wrong again.”
Lyra’s breath caught. No one had ever seen that. No one in Blackridge ever asked.
“How did you—”
“Because I did too.” His voice was low. Rough. “I chose power over people once. Chose the throne over my sister. And I lost everything for it.”
The fire popped. Sparks flew.
Lyra found herself reaching out without thinking. Her fingers brushed the scar on his jaw. Just for a second. Feather light.
His skin was warm. Hot.
Kael went completely still. His eyes dropped to her mouth. Then back to her eyes.
For one heartbeat, the library was too quiet. The only sound was the fire and her breathing.
Lyra realized what she’d done and snatched her hand back like she’d been burned. “I’m sorry— I didn’t—”
“Don’t.” Kael stood abruptly. Put 3 steps of distance between them. His hands clenched at his sides. “You’re my ward, Lyra. Not mine.”
The words landed like ice.
Right. Ward. Safe. Alone. No strings.
“Understood, Your Majesty,” she said, voice flat. She stared at the book in her lap.
Kael turned back to the fire. His shoulders were tense. “Read. I’ll be back later.”
He left.
And Lyra sat there, heart pounding, touching her lips with two fingers.
Because for one second she thought he was going to kiss her.
And the worst part?
She wanted him to.
That night, Darius’ name was announced at the gates again.
“Alpha of Blackridge requests entry. Says it’s urgent. Says it concerns the rejected omega.”
Kael was in the war room. Maps everywhere. Lyra was bringing him tea because the servants were scared of him and she was tired of hiding.
She set the cup down. Her hands shook.
He took it, fingers brushing hers. Warm against her cold skin. He didn’t let go right away.
“Let him wait,” Kael said to Captain Rowe. Then, quieter, just for her: “Unless you want to see him.”
Lyra shook her head. “No.” Her voice was firm. “I don’t.”
Kael’s eyes darkened. He set the tea down untouched.
“Good,” he said.
Then he did something that made her heart stop.
He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His knuckles grazed her cheek. Rough from sword work. Careful. Like she was made of glass.
“You did good today, little ghost,” he murmured.
Little ghost. No one had ever called her that. No one had touched her like she wouldn’t break.
Lyra’s whole body shivered.
“Go to bed, Lyra,” Kael said. But he didn’t move.
Neither did she.
For 3 seconds they just stood there. Close enough that she could count his eyelashes. Close enough that if either of them leaned in half an inch their lips would meet.
She could see the tension in his jaw. The way his eyes flicked to her mouth. The way he was holding himself back.
Her heart was hammering so loud she was sure he could hear it.
Kael’s gaze dropped to her lips. His thumb brushed, just barely, against the corner of her mouth. A ghost of a touch.
Lyra’s breath hitched.
Footsteps in the hall. A guard clearing his throat.
Kael stepped back instantly. The moment shattered like glass.
“Ward,” he reminded her. His voice was rougher now. Strained. “Remember that.”
Lyra nodded and fled. Her face was burning.
But sleep didn’t come.
In bed, wrapped in his coat, she pressed her fingers to her cheek where he’d touched her. Then to her lips where his thumb had almost been.
And she wondered how long “ward” would last.
Because the way Kael looked at her when he thought no one was watching…
That didn’t look like protection.
That looked like restraint.
That looked like hunger.
And somewhere in the keep, King Kael was staring at the ceiling, too, with his hands fisted in the sheets, thinking about the way she’d touched his scar.
Because he’d spent 10 years being feared.
And 3 days wanting someone to touch him like he wasn’t a monster.
He’d told himself ward was safer. For her. For him.
But the way she looked at him tonight, like he wasn’t the King of Virek… like he was just a man…
It was undoing him.
A knock on his door. Soft.
“My King,” Rowe’s voice. “The Alpha of Blackridge is still at the gates. In the snow. Says he won’t leave until he speaks to her.”
Kael closed his eyes.
“Let him freeze,” he said. “And double the guards on Lyra’s door tonight.”
Not because he thought Darius would get in.
But because he wasn’t sure he could keep himself out.
---
At midnight, Lyra woke to a sound.
The door to her room creaked open.
She sat up, heart in her throat, clutching the coat to her chest.
A shadow filled the doorway. Tall. Broad.
Kael.
He wasn’t supposed to be here.
“I heard you crying,” he said quietly. “In the hall. Earlier.”
Lyra shook her head. “I wasn’t—”
“You were.” He stepped in, but didn’t come closer. Just stood there, looking at her like she might disappear. “I couldn’t sleep either.”
The fire in the hearth was low. His face was half in shadow.
“Are you safe?” he asked. “Did I scare you today? In the library?”
Lyra swallowed. “No.”
Kael nodded once. Then he turned to leave.
“Wait,” Lyra whispered.
He stopped. Didn’t turn around.
“Why do you call me little ghost?”
Kael’s shoulders tensed. “Because you move like one. And because…” He paused. “Because ghosts are the only things that can walk through walls. And you walked through mine.”
Then he was gone.
Leaving Lyra in the dark, with his words burning hotter than any fire.
And outside the gates, the snow kept falling.
On an Alpha who lost her.
And a King who was terrified he’d found her too late.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD