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Ch. 7

Author: Cara Anderson
last update Last Updated: 2025-03-29 11:27:33
Selene

I stare at my reflection in the ornate mirror, schooling my features into pleasant neutrality while my mind races. The pull of Alexander's hand away from mine at the Gala last night plays on repeat in my thoughts. The look of confusion, perhaps suspicion, in his violet eyes. I was careless. Too eager. I let my guard drop.

"Focus," I whisper to myself, adjusting the silver circlet nestled in my braided hair. For this morning's garden tour with the queen, I've chosen a pale blue gown that emphasizes my eyes and complements the royal colors without attempting to claim them as my own. Every detail matters. Every choice is calculated.

A sharp knock sounds at my chamber door.

"Enter," I call, already knowing who it will be.

Magistra Vega strides in, her severe gray gown and tight silver bun reflecting her uncompromising nature. My instructor since childhood, the woman who molded me into the perfect instrument for my people's ambitions.

"Well?" she demands without preamble. "Report."

I
Cara Anderson

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    Alexander I close the distance between us in one stride, my mouth finding hers with newfound urgency. Her response is immediate and enthusiastic, her body arching into mine as her arms wind around my neck. I tug gently at her loosened tunic, breaking the kiss only long enough to ask, "May I?"She nods, and I slip the garment from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. My breath catches at the sight of her—strong and lithe from years of healing work, skin pale gold in the afternoon light, the curve of her waist flaring into hips still covered by her leggings. The binding around her chest is utilitarian rather than decorative, but somehow all the more appealing for its practicality."You're beautiful," I tell her, because it's true and because the flush that spreads across her cheeks at the compliment is worth any momentary awkwardness."You're still wearing too many clothes," she points out, fingers already working at the fastenings of my shirt.I laugh, the sound rusty with dis

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    Lyra "What existed between us was real," I acknowledge quietly. "Friendship, respect, potential for more. I never denied that.""And now?" His question carries no accusation, only sincere desire to understand where my boundaries are now."Now complexity exists where once things seemed so simple between us, so easy." I reply, honesty demanded by years of trust between us. "The bond with Alexander doesn't erase what came before, but it changes the context irrevocably."He reaches out slowly, giving me time to withdraw if I choose, and gently brushes a strand of hair from my face. The casual intimacy of the gesture—one he's performed countless times before—suddenly carries a different weight, awareness crackling between us like the static before a storm."If fate hadn't intervened," he murmurs, "if you'd never met him...""We can't know that path because we're not walking it," I interrupt gently, though I don't pull away from his touch. "Speculating about what might have been only makes

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    LyraThe familiar scents of wild herbs and wood smoke welcome me as we crest the final ridge overlooking our community's temporary settlement. After the palace's overwhelming grandeur, the simple cluster of hide tents and wooden shelters feels like drawing a deep breath after being underwater too long. My shoulders relax instinctively, the tight knot of tension court life created beginning to loosen."You look happier already," Kieran observes, pulling his horse alongside mine. His green eyes study me with the perception that comes from years of friendship. "The palace weighs on you.""It's... different," I acknowledge, remaining deliberately neutral despite the relief coursing through me. "Complex in ways I never imagined.""And the prince?" he asks carefully. "Is he worth the complexity?"The question carries layers beneath its simplicity. Through our temporarily stabilized bond, I feel Alexander's presence like a silver thread stretched thin but unbroken between us. Even discussing

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    Alexander Throughout the day, power surges continue with increasing frequency and intensity. During an afternoon security briefing, my Alpha energy flares so strongly that decorative weapons mounted on the walls rattle in their holdings. Later, while reviewing border reports, healing power manifests as visible glow surrounding my hands, making parchment maps luminescent where I touch them.By evening, controlling these manifestations requires constant focus, draining energy needed for royal duties that cannot be postponed despite my discomfort. The council reconvenes to discuss increased activity along the eastern border—reports of strangers matching Northern territory descriptions moving through regions where healing communities traditionally hide."Vega's agents, most likely," Dominic assesses, pointing to locations marked on the tactical map. "Their movement patterns suggest searching rather than random patrol.""Searching for what?" Lord Harrison questions."Not what—who," I corre

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    Alexander The council chamber feels like a trap this morning—a gilded cage of obligation, duty, and politics that keeps me from what I truly want to be doing. My attention drifts repeatedly toward the window, toward the eastern gate where I know Lyra will soon depart with Kieran. Every instinct rebels against letting her leave the palace, letting her travel with another man who clearly harbors feelings for her."Your Highness?" Lord Harrison's voice cuts through my distraction. "Your thoughts on the Northern territories' proposal?"I refocus on the documents before me, forcing composure over agitation. "Their offer of partial reparations is insufficient," I state, scanning the diplomatic language that disguises the Northern delegation's attempt to minimize consequences for their actions. "They participated in an unprovoked attack on our throne. I won’t accept anything less than full accountability."The council members exchange glances, some approving, others concerned."The Northern

  • The Lycan King's Outcast Omega   Ch. 42

    LyraThe council chambers occupy an imposing section of the palace, all dark wood and serious faces. When I enter, conversation halts abruptly. Alexander stands at the head of a long table scattered with maps and documents, looking exhausted but commanding. Relief crosses his features when he sees me."Lyra, thank you for coming," he says, gesturing me forward. "The council requires information about Vega's capabilities and possible locations."I step further into the room, acutely aware of the scrutiny from a dozen pairs of eyes. Most expressions range from skeptical to overtly hostile, with only Dominic and Elara offering friendly faces among the assembled advisors."Surely there are more reliable sources of intelligence than a... healer," one councilor objects, the pause before "healer" making the word sound like an insult."You’d do well to remember my mother, your queen, is a healer. As am I.” Alexander snaps, a hint of Alpha authority edging his tone. “Lyra has firsthand experien

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