Chapter 4- Taken from the Pack
1486 Words
Aurora tried to stay upright, but her legs shook under her. Her breath kept catching, uneven and weak, as if each inhale was a battle she was already losing.
Cyrus stepped closer, watching her carefully. “You cannot walk like this.”
“I am fine,” she whispered. Her voice betrayed her. It trembled more than her knees did.
“You are not fine,” he said gently. “Let me help you.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but her knees gave way before the words could form. Cyrus moved fast, catching her before she hit the ground. He lifted her with an ease that startled her.
“You do not have to carry me,” she said, her voice small with embarrassment.
“I do,” he answered. “Your body needs rest. Your mind needs peace. Let me give you both.”
Aurora’s fingers curled nervously into the fabric of his shirt. “No one has ever carried me before.”
Cyrus adjusted his hold, steady and careful. “Then today can be the first of many things you have never been given.”
The forest path stretched before them, quiet and shadowed. Cyrus walked with controlled steps, his breathing steady. Aurora kept her eyes on the trees, trying to calm the panic spreading through her chest.
“I do not understand what is happening,” she said softly. “Why would the King send for me.”
“You will learn soon enough,” Cyrus said. “There are things only he can explain.”
Aurora swallowed tightly. “What if he made a mistake?”
“He did not.”
“What if I disappoint him.”
“You will not.”
She closed her eyes. “You do not understand. I am not special.”
Cyrus shook his head. “You believe that because your pack fed you lies for years. The King sensed your pain the moment it broke you. Pain like that does not come from weakness. It comes from someone who has survived more than most ever could.”
Her breath caught. “I did not think anyone could feel that.”
“He did.”
They crossed the invisible line that marked the edge of Blackthorn territory. Aurora felt it deep inside, like a door closing behind her. The air felt different on this side. Lighter somehow. Warmer.
She looked over her shoulder. “It is really gone now. Everything I knew.”
“Everything that hurt you,” Cyrus replied. “Not everything you are.”
Aurora whispered, “What if I cannot survive anywhere else.”
“You will,” Cyrus said. “You already have.”
Ahead, the trees thinned until stone walls rose out of the landscape, tall and bright under the sunlight. The sight of them made Aurora blink.
“Is that the palace,” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Wow!...I imagined it smaller.”
A faint smile touched his mouth. “Most people do.”
As they approached the entrance, guards straightened at their posts. Their armor gleamed, and their weapons looked sharp enough to cut the air. Yet when they saw Aurora held against Cyrus’s chest, their expressions changed.
Their shoulders loosened. Their eyes warmed.
One guard stepped forward. “Is this her,” he asked quietly.
Cyrus nodded. “Yes.”
The guard lowered his head with respect. “We have been waiting.”
Aurora felt her pulse quicken. “Why are they looking at me like that.”
“Because you matter here,” Cyrus told her.
“But they do not know me.”
“They do not need to.”
Cyrus carried her through the gates. Every footstep echoed against stone, sounding too loud, too different from the creaking floors and dirty hallways she was used to. Palace workers paused when they saw her. Some whispered. Some smiled. Not a single glare. Not a single cruel smirk. No one raised a hand.
Aurora instinctively clung to Cyrus’s shirt. “I don't know how to handle this.”
“You don't have to handle anything today,” he said. “Just breathe.”
Inside, the palace was filled with warm lantern light and windows that stretched higher than she could look. The air smelled like herbs and something clean and calming.
Three healers approached her with careful steps.
An older woman spoke first. “Bring her here, please. She needs treatment.”
Cyrus set Aurora gently on a soft cushioned table. She winced as the fabric touched her bruises.
The healer frowned. “These wounds are fresh. Who hurt you.”
Aurora looked down quickly. “It does not matter.”
“It matters to us,” the healer said quietly.
Cyrus stepped beside her. “She is safe now. That is all she needs to focus on.”
The healer nodded and turned to her assistants. “Prepare warm water. Bring the salves. And tell the physician the King’s guest has arrived.”
Aurora’s head lifted sharply. “Guest. That cannot be right. I am not a guest. I am not anything like that.”
The healer smiled softly. “You are exactly that.”
Aurora shook her head. “I do not deserve this.”
The healer took her hand gently. “Then allow us to decide what you deserve. Not the people who failed you.”
Aurora’s throat tightened. “I do not know how to believe that.”
Cyrus spoke behind her, his voice steady. “You will. In due time.”
The healers carefully removed torn fabric from her arms and legs. They examined every bruise, every mark, treating each wound with soft hands and murmured instructions. Aurora watched them with disbelief.
One healer whispered, “She must have been in pain for weeks.”
Another said quietly, “These injuries were not even treated.”
Aurora closed her eyes. “I am sorry.”
The older healer shook her head. “Do not apologize for what others did to you. You survived. That is strength.”
Cyrus leaned closer. “No one here will judge you. You are safe.”
Aurora turned to him, tears gathering in her eyes. “Why are you being so kind to me?”
“Because kindness should have been given to you a long time ago,” Cyrus said. “And because the King would hold me accountable if I let anything harm you again.”
Aurora blinked. “He does not even know me.”
Cyrus replied quietly, “He knows enough.”
Warm clothes eased the sting of her cuts. Cool salves soothed the deeper bruises. Aurora let out a breath she had been holding for years.
“This feels unreal,” she whispered.
“It is real,” Cyrus said.
“Why is everyone acting like I am important?”
“Because you are.”
Aurora looked at him with a small, frightened frown. “What if this is all a mistake? What if he sent for the wrong person.”
Cyrus knelt beside her bed. “The King does not make mistakes when it comes to instincts. He felt a bond. A real one. And he followed it.”
Aurora’s voice shook. “What kind of bond?”
Cyrus hesitated, then spoke softly. “A bond that belongs only to him.”
Aurora swallowed. “I do not understand.”
“You will,” he said. “When you meet him.”
Aurora stared up at the ceiling. “I am afraid.”
“That is natural.”
“What if he hates me,” she whispered.
“What if I disappoint him?”
“That will never happen.”
The healers stepped back. “She needs rest,” the older healer said. “Her body has been pushed too far.”
Aurora nodded faintly. “Thank you.”
Cyrus stayed close. “I will remain here until the King arrives.”
Aurora’s heart jumped. “He is coming here. Today.”
“Yes.”
“Now.”
“Very soon.”
Aurora felt the air grow heavier. “Cyrus. I cannot meet a King like this.”
Cyrus gave her a look filled with calm reassurance. “He does not care about your appearance. He cares that you are breathing.”
Aurora pressed a hand over her heartbeat. “I'm scared.”
“I know,” he said. “But you are not alone.”
Aurora stared at the door. Something powerful moved on the other side. The air seemed to shift, the way a storm announces itself in the sky.
Her breath froze.
“Cyrus.”
“Yes.”
“What is that presence?”
He lowered his head. “The King.”
Aurora felt everything inside her go still.
Something powerful was coming for her.
And her world would never be the same again.
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