Kael didn't escort Lyrana to the nurse's office, which would have meant involving school authority. Instead, he led her to the deepest, most secluded corner of the grand, seldom-used library, the same annex where he had found her the night before last.
He dumped her books onto a polished mahogany table and indicated a heavy, carved chair. "Sit. Do not move. If you cause a scene, I will regret saving you."
Lyrana gingerly sat, holding her bandaged arm stiffly. Kael stood guard nearby, arms crossed over his chest, his presence a silent, suffocating barrier against the world. He looked less like a student and more like a guard dog, intensely focused on the property he felt responsible for.
After ten minutes of thick, antagonistic silence, Lyrana's stomach rumbled, a loud, embarrassing sound in the quiet space.
Kael shifted, his expression a mixture of irritation and grudging amusement.
"Disgusting. Did you forget to eat the expensive meal I bought you?"
"No," Lyrana said softly, reaching into her bag with her good arm. "I ate half of it last night. But I brought something for lunch today, before... before class."
She pulled out the small, sealed container of her grandmother's vegetable stew, the very one Kael had scornfully thrown into the trash yesterday.
Kael's face immediately twisted into a sneer. "Don't even open that. That stench will ruin the antique wood. You will not eat that peasant's gruel here."
Lyrana carefully broke the seal, and the fragrant steam of rich broth, earthy vegetables, and herbs instantly filled the air, fighting against the dusty smell of old paper.
"It's not gruel," Lyrana countered, holding the container close. "It's soup. And my grandmother made it with extra ginger and thyme. It's meant to heal. It will help my arm."
Kael made a disgusted sound deep in his throat.
"Magic doesn't work that way, Nymph. Your herbs won't fix a fracture."
"Perhaps not, but the warmth and nutrients help the body heal faster," she insisted, trying to pry the lid open further with her one good hand, struggling badly.
Kael watched her struggle with cold impatience for about thirty seconds before his self-control snapped. He walked over, snatched the container from her hand, and, with a quick, powerful twist, popped the lid open.
He dropped the lid and held the hot container, his expression tight with annoyance.
"Stop wasting time," he snarled. "If you must eat this vile mixture, get on with it."
Lyrana looked down at her arm. "I can't. I can't hold the bowl and use the spoon without spilling it and making a mess."
This was true. The simple task was beyond her. Kael stared at her, then at the soup, then back at her broken arm. A muscle twitched in his jaw. The need to maintain his Alpha image warred violently with the acute guilt over the injury he had caused.
"This is ridiculous," Kael growled. He scanned the table, spotted a lonely, silver teaspoon the library staff had probably forgotten, and grabbed it.
With a final, desperate sigh of self-disgust, the Alpha heir of the Oracle Moon, the most feared student at Elysium, carefully scooped up a spoonful of the vegetable stew.
He held it out to Lyrana.
"Open your mouth, Nymph," he commanded, his voice rough with forced control. "I will not have you starve yourself just because I broke your useless arm."
Lyrana stared at the spoon, then at his molten eyes. The sheer absurdity of the moment made her heart ache.
She quietly obeyed, leaning forward and accepting the spoonful of warm, healing soup. It tasted better than any gourmet boar.
Kael proceeded to feed her slowly, meticulously, avoiding any contact with her face.
He maintained a veneer of extreme detachment, but the act itself was undeniably intimate, domestic, and gentle.
"It tastes like dirt and sentimentality," Kael muttered after the third bite, still holding the spoon steady.
"It tastes like home," Lyrana countered softly, meeting his gaze.
"Home smells weak," he countered, but he didn't stop. He finished the entire bowl, feeding the despised "peasant food" to the creature he claimed to hate, all while maintaining a rigid, protective silence.
Later that afternoon, after Lyrana had been dismissed to go home, Kael was heading toward the campus gates when he was intercepted by Rhys.
The Beta was waiting near the tree line, his expression carefully neutral, but his eyes were sharp, holding a clear, demanding curiosity.
"Alpha Kael," Rhys began, blocking the path. "I apologize for my question yesterday, but I need to ask you about Lyrana again."
Kael stopped, his energy instantly turning cold and dangerous. "I thought I made myself clear, Rhys. You will not concern yourself with the Nymph."
"I saw what happened in the library, Alpha," Rhys pressed, lowering his voice. "I saw you feeding her soup, Alpha. After she insulted you, after you hurt her, and after you spent weeks trying to drive her out.
With all due respect, Alpha, your actions are inconsistent with the Oracle Moon code of conduct."
Rhys took a careful step back, anticipating the Alpha's fury. "The pack is questioning your intentions. This creature is a distraction, Alpha. Is she becoming... a liability to your rule?"
Kael stood still for a long, terrible moment. His golden eyes were hard, calculating the risk. He could strike Rhys down for his impertinence, but the Beta was asking the question the entire pack was thinking.
"You think the Nymph is a liability?" Kael sneered, folding his arms. "You think she has weakened me?"
"I think she is confusing the pack, Alpha."
Kael scoffed. "She is not confusing the pack. She is a tool. She is my personal project, Rhys.
You think I care about that miserable soup? I was testing her resilience. I wanted to see how far she would allow her weakness to make her reliant on me."
He stepped close to Rhys, the full force of his Alpha power washing over the Beta.
"Understand this, Rhys. Lyrana Aquamarine is a pathetic, vulnerable thing. But she is mine. I will deal with her. I will break her when I choose, how I choose. She is not a liability. She is a reminder that the Oracle Moon owns everything on this campus. Even the things
we despise."
The conviction in his voice was chilling, but it was a lie, constructed to satisfy his second-in-command. Kael hated that the lie tasted like ash, and the truth, the image of her quiet, grateful eyes as he fed her, felt dangerously soft.
"Understood, Alpha," Rhys said, swallowing the doubt, and backed away quickly.
Kael waited until Rhys was gone, then leaned his forehead against the cold stone wall of the Academy. His chest was tight. He had just lied to his Beta, covering up an act of conflicted guilt, and now he felt more isolated than ever.
He had to fix this.
He had to regain control of his narrative. He had to prove to himself, and to Rhys, that he hated the Nymph.