Watched
1158 Words
BRISEIS
I didn’t expect the first breath of open air to feel so heavy.
The courtyard was drenched in soft sunlight. Warm. Peaceful. The breeze smelled of damp stone, pine, and distant rain. Flowers bloomed along the edges of the training grounds, wild and free.
But I felt them.
Watching.
From balconies.
From corners.
From shadows.
I stood beneath the marble archway, spine straight, head high, every inch of me screaming to turn around and run.
But I didn’t.
I walked forward.
The long linen skirts Orion had arranged for me whispered around my ankles. Loose. Simple. Comfortable. His only request after the healers cleared me to move freely had been: “Take your time. But don’t disappear.”
I didn’t intend to.
But he also hadn’t told me I’d never be alone.
The guards didn’t follow close. They didn’t say a word.
But they were there.
Always.
Even now, one stood by the fountain, pretending to scan the grounds. Another leaned casually against a post by the stables, eyes occasionally flicking to my back.
None of them were familiar.
None of them spoke to me.
But they were his.
His eyes.
His leash.
I understood why.
I didn’t resent it.
Not yet.
But I wasn’t sure how long that patience would last.
Lyra found me before I reached the garden.
Of course she did.
She was barefoot, dragging a book and a stuffed wolf in one hand, chewing on the string of a mango-flavoured candy.
“Are we going to the garden or the library?” she asked like it was a very serious debate.
“The garden,” I said, offering my hand.
She took it immediately, fingers sticky.
“Then I brought the wrong book.”
“You can read to me anyway.”
She lit up like the sun.
And just like that, the knot in my chest loosened.
We sat beneath the twisted willow tree near the far end of the garden—the one where the roses grew in chaotic swirls, and the bees buzzed in lazy circles overhead.
It was quiet here.
Too far from the palace for the guards to hover.
But I knew they were watching from afar. Somewhere, in the trees or balconies, I was being tracked.
Orion was keeping his promise.
Giving me space—but not letting anyone get close enough to take advantage of it.
I should’ve been grateful.
I was.
But sometimes, I just wanted to stop being a person who needed protection.
I wanted to be… just me.
Lyra was sprawled across the grass, reading a story in the worst accent I’d ever heard.
“‘Thea the Warrior Queen lifted her glaive—wait, what’s a glaive?’”
“It’s like a sword. But fancier.”
“She could’ve just said sword.”
“She’s a queen. She’s dramatic.”
“Fair.”
She grinned, then sat up, leaning her head on my shoulder.
“You’re different now,” she said, eyes still on the page.
“Different how?”
“Not sad-different. Just… more like a wolf.”
I blinked.
“What do you mean?”
She shrugged. “Before, it was like your wolf was always hiding. But now, she’s awake. Like she’s stretching. Like she wants to play.”
I looked at her closely.
Sometimes I forgot how observant she was. How intuitive.
“Does that scare you?”
“No,” she said simply. “I think she likes me.”
I didn’t speak for a while.
Neither did she.
We just sat together, watching bees drift between roses, her head resting on me like she’d always belonged there.
Later that afternoon, we walked the long way back to the castle—past the old ruins behind the east wall, past the shrine to the moon goddess.
The entire time, I felt the eyes on us.
A bird landed on a branch. A breeze shifted the trees.
A shimmer of movement in the distance—too fast for a common guard.
I didn’t react.
But I knew.
They weren’t watching me because they thought I was dangerous.
They were watching me because Orion was dangerous… when it came to me.
I was his mate.
The scar on my side proved that.
The fact that I still breathed proved what lengths he’d go to if I was hurt again.
I wasn’t sure what scared me more.
The idea of being unprotected…
Or the idea of never being truly alone again.
That evening, after Lyra had been tucked into bed with promises of another garden day tomorrow, I stood by the window in Orion’s chambers.
The moon was bright overhead.
I could sense him nearby—down the hall, speaking to Thane in hushed tones.
Even when he gave me space… I could feel him.
Like a tether beneath my skin.
But for now, it was just me and my reflection.
And in it, I didn’t see the broken girl from the forest.
I saw a woman standing taller than before.
Scarred. Watched. Bonded.
But also… seen.
The room was still.
The fire had burned low, casting golden embers across the stone floor.
I lay curled beneath the covers, eyes open, breath steady.
Pretending to sleep.
I’d gotten good at that.
Being still. Silent. Small.
But now… I didn’t do it out of fear.
I did it because I wanted to see if he’d come.
And he did.
The door opened with a soft groan.
He entered like a shadow—slow, quiet, careful not to wake me. His scent moved ahead of him, warm and earthy, chased by that faint trace of smoke that always lingered around him.
He was holding a cup.
Steam curled from the rim.
I kept my breathing steady as he crossed the room.
He set the cup on the table beside me. Something herbal. Calming. The kind of thing only someone who’d memorized my needs would think to bring.
His eyes moved over me.
I felt the weight of his gaze without opening mine.
Then… a shift in the mattress.
Not close.
Just enough to lean over.
He adjusted the blanket at my shoulder. Tucked it gently beneath my chin like I might catch a chill.
His fingers hovered.
Then lowered.
A soft kiss to my forehead.
I nearly broke.
My heart cracked quietly in the dark.
Not because he touched me.
But because he didn’t stay.
He rose slowly, jaw tight, like he was battling every instinct in his body.
Then he turned.
And left.
I opened my eyes after the door clicked shut.
The tea still steamed at my bedside.
My skin still burned from where his lips had grazed me.
And my wolf…
She howled softly inside me.
Not from pain.
But from longing.
Because the man who had protected me, mourned me, cherished me like a sacred thing—
Was still afraid to hold me… until I asked him to.
- Writer
