Chapter Eight
2206 Words
Malekini woke slowly, the morning light pressing gently through the curtains like a cautious visitor.
Her body still ached from the injuries that had kept her in the hospital only the day before.
Every movement felt like her muscles were remembering pain they had not yet forgotten.
She was finally home.
But the calm did not feel real.
Malekini pushed herself up against the pillows with a soft groan, pressing a hand to her side as a dull ache spread through her ribs.
“Easy,” her mother’s voice came instantly from the doorway.
Malekini looked up to see her mother already watching her, arms crossed but eyes full of worry.
“You shouldn’t be sitting up so quickly.”
“I’m not made of glass, Mom,” Malekini murmured, though even speaking took more effort than she liked to admit.
Her mother walked over quickly, placing a firm hand on her shoulder and gently pushing her back into the pillows.
“You almost died three days ago,” she said quietly.
“That counts as glass for at least a week.”
Malekini rolled her eyes faintly but didn’t argue.
Her father appeared behind her mother in the doorway, his large frame filling the space as he studied her carefully.
“How’s the breathing?” he asked.
“Better.”
“And the ribs?”
“Still attached,” she replied dryly.
He nodded once, though his expression remained serious.
“Doctor said no strain for a few days.”
“Dad.”
“What?”
“You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?”
“The ‘I’m pretending to be calm but actually I’m worried’ thing.”
Her father’s mouth twitched slightly before he sighed.
“You scared us,” he admitted.
Malekini softened a little at that.
“I’m okay now.”
Her mother handed her a glass of water.
“Drink.”
Malekini took a sip slowly.
For a moment, everything felt almost normal again.
The quiet house.
The familiar smell of coffee drifting from downstairs.
The low morning light warming the wooden floors.
It felt like life was slowly returning to something steady.
Then the doorbell rang.
The sound cut sharply through the house.
All three of them froze.
Her father frowned.
“We’re not expecting anyone.”
Her mother’s expression tightened immediately.
“I’ll get it.”
Malekini leaned back against the pillows, watching them both leave the room.
She could hear their footsteps heading downstairs.
Then the front door opened.
A deep voice spoke from the entrance hall.
“I am here on royal business.”
Malekini’s stomach tightened instantly.
Royal business.
Her father’s voice lowered, tense.
“Is there a problem?”
“I must speak with Malekini directly.”
There was a long pause.
Her mother spoke next, her voice tight with concern.
“She just came home from the hospital yesterday.”
“This message must be delivered to her personally.”
Silence followed.
Heavy silence.
Malekini slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed.
Her ribs protested immediately, pain flickering across her side.
But curiosity and unease were stronger than the discomfort.
She stood carefully, steadying herself against the bedpost.
Then she began walking toward the door.
Step by step.
Slow.
Careful.
By the time she reached the stairs, her parents were already standing at the bottom beside a tall figure dressed in dark royal guard armor.
Her father looked up the moment he heard her.
“Malekini,” he said quickly.
“You should be resting.”
“I heard,” she replied quietly.
Her mother stepped forward slightly.
“Sweetheart, you don’t have to come down.”
But Malekini was already descending the stairs slowly.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
The guard turned as she approached the living room.
He straightened immediately and bowed his head respectfully.
“Lady Malekini.”
She stopped a few feet away, gripping the stair rail lightly for support.
“Yes?”
The guard reached into his coat and removed a sealed parchment bearing the royal crest.
His voice remained formal and steady.
“I bring a message from the royal council.”
Her parents exchanged uneasy glances behind her.
Malekini felt a strange tension rising in her chest.
“What kind of message?” she asked.
The guard unfolded the parchment slowly.
Then he began to read.
“By decree of the royal council, the following decisions have been made in the interest of pack stability and future alliances.”
Malekini frowned slightly.
Her father’s arms folded across his chest.
The guard continued.
“Effective immediately, Prince Darven Veyra has been formally engaged to Lady Lyra Nyx.”
The words landed like a stone in Malekini’s chest.
For a moment, she wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly.
“What?”
Her voice came out small and confused.
The guard did not stop reading.
“Due to the importance of this union, Malekini is required to maintain distance from Prince Darven Veyra for a period of two weeks.”
Her heart began beating harder.
Too quiet.
“Wait,” she said weakly.
But the guard continued.
“Additionally, As we all know Moon Night has been postponed for two weeks which now ensures proper preparations for upcoming royal unions.”
Her father’s expression darkened.
Her mother looked visibly confused.
Then the guard delivered the final line.
“Following this adjustment, Malekini will be joined in marriage to Kaelen Veyra after the Moon Night ceremony two weeks from today.”
The room went completely silent.
Malekini stared at him.
She did not blink.
She did not move.
It felt like the world had simply… stopped.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered slowly.
“I think you’re mistaken.”
The guard lowered the parchment.
“There is no mistake.”
Her voice sharpened immediately.
“Yes, there is.”
She took a step forward.
“Darven isn’t engaged.”
Her breathing grew uneven.
“And I’m not marrying Kaelen.”
Her mother reached for her arm gently.
“Malekini—”
“No.”
She pulled away slightly, eyes still locked on the guard.
“Darven would have told me, he's been out of the hospital for 2 days now.”
Her voice cracked just a little.
“He wouldn’t just—”
The words stopped in her throat.
“The decree has already been finalized.”
Her father stepped forward now, his voice firm.
“Who authorized this?”
“The royal Family and Alpha Lucian .”
Malekini felt the air leave her lungs.
Lucian Verya.
Darven’s father.
Her thoughts began racing.
None of it made sense.
Why would Darven agree to this?
Why would he get engaged?
Why would he stay silent?
And Kaelen…
Her voice rose with frustration.
“This doesn’t make any sense!”
Her ribs flared painfully as she spoke louder.
“You can’t just walk into my house and tell me I’m marrying someone in two weeks!”
Her mother grabbed her shoulders gently.
“Malekini, breathe.”
But Malekini’s eyes were already burning.
“This is insane,” she said hoarsely.
“You’re telling me Darven is engaged and I’m supposed to just… what?”
Her voice cracked again.
“Pretend everything is fine?”
The guard remained calm.
“These decisions were made for the stability of the pack.”
The words made something inside her snap.
“Stability?” she repeated sharply.
“So I’m a political tool now?”
Her father stepped forward again, anger flickering in his voice.
“That’s enough.”
But Malekini barely heard him.
Her mind kept replaying the same words.
Darven is engaged.
Darven is engaged.
Darven is engaged.
It felt wrong.
Completely wrong.
She didn’t believe it.
Not fully.
Darven wouldn’t just abandon her like that.
He wouldn’t.
But the royal decree made it real anyway.
Her voice dropped into a quiet whisper.
“So that’s it.”
The guard nodded slightly.
“That is the council’s decision.”
Malekini stood there for a long moment, the weight of it finally settling over her.
Two weeks.
Two weeks until Moon Night.
Two weeks until she was expected to marry Kaelen .
And somehow…
No one had asked her if she wanted it.
*****
Draven woke to the faint clatter of porcelain.
His eyes opened slowly, heavy with exhaustion and irritation.
A tray being placed down.
He turned his head slightly.
Lyra stood beside the bed, carefully arranging plates on a breakfast tray.
Sunlight from the tall windows fell across her pale dress as she looked at him with a soft smile.
“You’re awake.”
Draven didn’t respond.
He simply watched her for a moment, expression blank.
“I thought you might be hungry,” she continued gently.
She lifted the tray slightly.
“I brought breakfast.”
Draven pushed himself up against the headboard slowly.
His ribs protested immediately.
He ignored it.
“You should eat,” Lyra said quietly.
“You need strength after everything that happened.”
Draven looked at the tray.
Eggs. Fruit.Tea.
Carefully prepared.
He looked back at her.
“I’m not hungry.”
Lyra blinked slightly but kept the same gentle tone.
“You haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
“I said I’m not hungry.”
The words came out flat.
Cold.
She hesitated before setting the tray on the small table beside the bed anyway.
“You should still try,” she said softly.
“It will help you recover faster.”
Draven swung his legs off the bed.
“I’ll recover fine.”
Lyra watched him carefully.
“You don’t have to push yourself.”
“I’m not.”
He stood and walked past her without another word.
Lyra remained standing beside the untouched tray.
Her smile faded slightly.
But only for a moment.
Later that day, Draven sat alone in the study.
A thick book rested open in his hands, though he had not turned the page in several minutes.
The room was quiet.
Peaceful.
Until the door opened.
Lyra stepped inside carrying a small cup and saucer.
“I thought you might want some tea.”
Draven didn’t look up.
She walked closer, placing the cup carefully on the desk beside him.
“It’s good for healing.”
Still nothing.
She sat down in the chair beside the desk, smoothing her dress slightly.
“How are you feeling today?” she asked gently.
Draven turned a page in his book.
“Fine.”
Lyra waited a moment.
“Your injuries looked serious yesterday.”
“They’re not.”
She nodded slowly.
“And the council meetings?”
Draven’s eyes remained on the book.
“What about them?”
“I heard there’s been a lot of discussion lately.”
“There has.”
She tried again.
“Does it stress you out?”
“No.”
Silence settled between them.
Lyra folded her hands together.
“I just thought we could talk.”
Draven finally looked up.
His expression was calm.
But distant.
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
Lyra held his gaze for a moment.
Then she smiled again.
“Well,” she said lightly.
“If you need anything, I’ll be nearby.”
Draven returned his attention to the book.
“I won’t.”
That evening, Draven stood in the training room.
His movements were slower than usual, careful. He hadn't trained for days.
Each strike against the practice post sent a faint ache through his ribs.
But he continued anyway.
Sweat ran down the back of his neck.
The door opened quietly behind him.
Lyra stepped inside.
She watched him for a moment before speaking.
“You shouldn’t be training yet.”
Draven didn’t stop.
“I’m fine.”
She walked closer, holding out a towel.
“At least wipe the sweat.”
He paused briefly before taking it.
“Thanks.”
Lyra stepped a little closer.
“You’re pushing yourself too hard.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re still injured.”
Draven tossed the towel aside.
“I said I’m fine!.”
Scared.Lyra studied him carefully.
“You don’t have to prove anything.”
“I’m not proving anything.”
She hesitated, then stepped behind him slightly.
“If your ribs still hurt,” she said softly.
“I could help.”
Draven turned his head slightly.
“What do you mean?”
“A massage,” she said gently.
“Or I could help change the bandages.”
She reached toward his arm lightly.
Draven stepped away immediately.
“You don’t have to do this.”
Lyra’s hand slowly lowered.
“I’m your fiancée,” she replied quietly.
Draven looked at her.
His voice remained calm.
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
The words hung in the air between them.
Lyra’s expression tightened just slightly.
But she forced a small smile again.
“You’ll see it differently eventually.”
Draven didn’t answer.
He simply turned back toward the training post.
Lyra watched him for another moment.
The distance between them remained exactly the same.
And yet, as she turned to leave, one quiet thought stayed firm in her mind.
She would find a way to reach him eventually.
- Writer
