Warmth.
That was the first thing Lara noticed. A creeping warmth beneath her limbs, wrapped in thick furs and blankets that smelled of smoke and pine. The second was pain-deep and aching, like every bone had been broken and then reset by some angry god.
Her eyes fluttered open.
The chamber was dim, lit by the soft flicker of a lantern and the golden glow of a fire crackling nearby. Stone walls curved around her like a fortress. Ancient. Enduring. The scent of herbs, iron, and something wild lingered in the air.
She tried to sit up-but a firm hand eased her back.
"Careful," said a calm, firm voice. An older man sat at her bedside, with silver-streaked hair and a plain tunic. He had the look of someone used to obedience-despite his unassuming robes.
"You're lucky to be alive."
Lara blinked at him, her throat dry. "Where...?"
"You're in the Lycan King's chambers," he replied simply. "He brought you here himself. Carried you from the forest. And ordered that I tend to you. Personally."
The king?
Lara's breath caught.
"The Lycan King... brought me here?" she echoed.
The healer nodded once. "That's what I said."
"Why?" she asked, brows pulling together.
He offered her a silver cup of water. "That's a question for him, not me."
Why would the Lycan King help me?
Lara leaned back into the pillows, heart hammering. Her body throbbed, but it was the whirlwind in her head that left her dizzy.
Lara stared at him. Until he rescued her she had never seen a Lycan before.
She accepted the silver cup he offered and took a slow sip, trying to steady her breath. Her thoughts spun.
Why would a Lycan...
Why would the Lycan King...
She didn't finish the thought. Didn't dare to.
Wolfless, and somehow she'd ended up here. In his chambers. Under his protection.
She saw the healer stirring a bowl of herbs
"Don't overthink it." She said almost to herself.
The healer looked up from his mixing table, brows arching. "Pardon?"
She shook her head slightly. "Where is he? The king?"
The healer walked over with a basin of steaming herbs. "He left before dawn."
"Gone where?"
"He didn't say." He looked visibly irritated at her questions.
"Did he say when he'd be back?" she asked quietly.
The healer shook his head. "No. But he made it clear your safety was his priority."
Lara didn't respond. Her eyes drifted to the frost-laced window, the snow-capped trees barely visible in the distance. Her heart raced, her thoughts louder than ever.
"Rest now," the healer said, placing a jar of salve on the bedside table. "You'll need your strength."
As he left, the memory returned like a storm: golden eyes blazing through the dark, a massive creature-more than a wolf-standing between her and death. And later, those same eyes, gazing down at her before everything went black.
....
The King's office was cloaked in quiet intensity, lined with dark stone walls and high windows that allowed silver moonlight to spill across the table where maps and scrolls were strewn. A large hearth crackled behind him, casting shifting shadows across the room. The scent of smoke, parchment, and steel lingered in the air.
Thornak stood at the head of the massive table, arms braced against its edge. His golden eyes glinted beneath furrowed brows, scanning the red-marked positions on the map-evidence of the latest attacks.
Kael leaned against a pillar, his tone sharp. "Three outposts in under two weeks. This isn't random anymore. Someone is orchestrating these strikes."
Thornak's jaw clenched.
"And they know our weaknesses." Ruvan, his Gamma, stepped forward and pointed toward the northern border. "They hit Ashvale Pass last. If they breach it again, they'll have a straight route to our inner provinces."
"We'll reinforce it," Thornak said. "Double patrols and fortify the ridge. I want sentries at every crest."
Kael narrowed his eyes at the map. "These tactics... they're too precise for rogues. This feels like the old insurgents again. The ones we never caught."
A heavy silence followed...
There was a sharp knock at the door.
"Enter," Thornak commanded.
A guard stepped inside, his armor glinting in the dim firelight. He bowed swiftly.
"My King. The... special guest has awakened."
The air shifted. Thornak straightened, his eyes narrowing.
"Have the healer remain. No one goes in unless I say so."
"Yes, Your Majesty." The guard bowed again and vanished into the corridor.
Kael pushed off the wall, smirking faintly. "Going to check on your mysterious stray?"
Thornak ignored him and strode from the room.....
....
Lara threw off the furs, breath catching as the cold air kissed her skin. Every muscle ached, but she welcomed the pain. It was proof she was still alive.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and planted her feet on the stone floor. The chill hit her instantly, sharp and biting. Her knees wobbled beneath her, but she caught herself on the bedpost, gripping it until her vision cleared.
The chambers were quiet. The healer had stepped out, perhaps to fetch more herbs or prepare whatever strange poultice he'd been working on. The silence felt thick, interrupted only by the crackle of the fire behind her.
She took a slow step forward, then another.
The room was vast and carved from ancient stone, a balance of strength and elegance. Heavy beams arched across the ceiling, their edges worn smooth by time. A grand hearth dominated one wall, its flames casting a golden hue over the room. The rugs underfoot were thick and soft, woven in dark reds and silvers, and scattered furs lined the floor like trophies.
The air smelled of pinewood, steel, and something uniquely male.
Lara crossed to the window, her bare feet barely making a sound. The thick curtains had been drawn halfway back, letting in pale morning light that spilled across the stone floor like silver.
She pulled them aside fully.
The view stole her breath.
From her window, she beheld Vargorath, a fierce, living kingdom carved into the mountainside, its black-stone towers crowned with crimson banners. Below, warriors trained, couriers ran, and riders with wolves raced toward distant gates. Beyond the walls, a vast forest and winding river gave way to mist-veiled peaks. It wasn't merely a view, it was a kingdom that breathed power, poised like a beast waiting to be awakened.
Lara turned from the window, heart thudding.
The door creaked open.
The older man stepped in and
His eyes landed on Lara and immediately narrowed.
"You're supposed to be in bed," he grumbled, crossing the room without waiting for a reply.
Lara turned slowly, raising one brow.
"I needed air."
"You need rest," he snapped, not unkindly. "You almost died. Twice. Once from your wounds, and once from the fever. And now you're standing there like a ghost princess staring out a window."
Lara almost found it funny, she watched as the healer set his satchel down with a huff.
"Stubborn forest girls," he muttered, unpacking jars and herbs. "No sense of recovery, no idea what sleep is."
"Are all your patients this unwelcome?" she asked coolly.
"Only the ones who think standing upright means they're cured."
He took her wrist, fingers surprisingly warm and gentle against her skin as he checked her pulse.
"Hmph. Still weak. You're lucky the King got to you when he did."
At the mention of the King, something flickered in her chest. Something sharp.
He turned back to his herbs.
"Now bed. Before I sedate you and have the guards carry you to it."
Lara blinked. "You're serious."
"Oh, very."
With a sigh, Lara padded back to the bed and slipped under the furs.
"Thank you," she murmured.
He grunted. "Don't thank me yet. You'll hate the tea."
Great, she groaned inwardly. I am going to die by herbal warfare.