Lily
The palace corridors were dim, the torchlight low and flickering against ancient stone. I moved slowly, carefully balancing the wooden tray in my hands. I'd brewed the tea myself; lavender, valerian root, and just enough bitterroot to ease the fire in his muscles. He wouldn't rest, I knew that. So I'd help him. Even if it meant standing too close again.
When I stepped into Elis's chambers, I froze. He was bare-chested, standing at the open window, the night air brushing against his skin. The flames from the sconces carved shadows across his back, emphasizing the old scars, the new wounds. He looked every bit the warrior king. Worn, haunted and stunning.
And then he turned, his golden eyes locking on mine. My heart stuttered. "You're not resting," I said, setting the tray down on the table.
"I don't need to." His voice was deep, rough around the edges. "Not when my thoughts won't let me."
I didn't argue. I poured the tea instead, carefully handing him the cup. "Then drink this. It will help." Our fingers brushed. A shiver ran down my spine. Gods, I hated how easily he could do that…how a simple touch could set my whole body alight.
He noticed. Of course he noticed. His lips curved just slightly as he sipped, watching me over the rim. That gaze… it wasn't just a look. It was a pull. And I felt myself slipping. I turned away, moving to the bed, anything to break the tension. The sheets were a mess, tangled like he'd fought dreams all night. My fingers smoothed them out, maybe too gently. Maybe for too long.
"You're fussing," he said behind me, that amused edge creeping into his voice.
"I'm making sure you sleep." I fluffed a pillow, avoiding his eyes.
He set the cup down. "I could think of better ways to tire me out."
I stilled. Heat crept up my neck. "Elis," I warned, turning toward him, but the hunger in his eyes had already stolen my breath.
He sat on the bed, leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "What, healer? Afraid of where your thoughts are going?"
I didn't answer. Because yes, I was. I picked up a book from his bedside table, hoping the pages would shield me. "Perhaps a story would help."
"Read to me," he murmured. Low and dangerous.
I sat in the nearby chair and opened the book with shaking fingers. "The Alpha King stalked through the dimly lit hall, his presence commanding silence…" But I couldn't focus. Neither could he. His eyes weren't on the book…they were on me. When I finished the passage, I closed the book slowly. "I should go," I whispered, standing.
But his hand shot out, catching mine. Firm and warm. "Lily," he said, pulling me gently toward him. I didn't fight it. There was barely any space between us now. His breath brushed against my cheek. His fingers traced slow circles against my skin, and my resolve splintered. Then he lifted my hand and pressed a kiss to my palm. Slow and lingering. The way his lips moved down, brushing my wrist, made my knees threaten to give out.
"Elis…" I whispered, unsure whether I was begging him to stop or pleading with myself not to fall. Somehow, I stepped back. I pulled my hand free. "You should rest," I said, breathlessly. "I'll check on you tomorrow."
He didn't speak. But the look in his eyes said it all. Next time… he wouldn't let me walk away.
***
Elis' pov
The scent of her lingered in the room long after she left…lavender, wildflowers, and something distinctly Lily. I stood by the window long into the night, letting the cold wind hit my face.
The ache in my chest wasn't from the wounds. Not the ones on my body, anyway. It was the weight of everything I couldn't say. I couldn't shift. Not at will. Not for years. And tomorrow, they'd come for me.
***
The grand council hall pulsed with tension, every breath thick with suspicion. The Alphas had gathered, not to celebrate victory, but to prod at my weakness. I sat on the throne, back straight, gaze cold. I had to be unshakable. They couldn't see what lay beneath the surface. Douglas stood beside me, unmoving. Loyal and watchful.
Then, Jose stepped forward. He always wanted a stage. "Your Majesty," he said, voice soaked in courtesy but laced with challenge, "we are grateful for your leadership. But we must ask: why were we commanded to fight as men? Why not as wolves?"
The murmur that followed was expected. I didn't move. I let the question hang a moment too long, just to remind them who held the power. "Our enemies studied us," I said. "They built weapons and tactics designed for wolves. Had we shifted, we would've given them exactly what they wanted."
A few nods. A few more doubtful glances. But Jose… he didn't stop. "Or perhaps… it wasn't a strategy," he said, stepping closer. "Perhaps our king cannot shift."
The room dropped into silence. My fingers curled around the throne's armrest. "You dare question my power?" I said quietly.
"I dare ask what others won't." He met my eyes. "If you cannot shift, then you are not fit to lead." Douglas growled low beside me. I didn't stop him. "Then let the king prove us wrong," Jose pressed. "Let him shift. Here. Now."
The demand hung there, raw and heavy. I took a breath. Slow and measured. The beast inside me stirred, but it was still caged. I couldn't force the shift. Not now. "I do not perform on command," I said. "But if proof is what you need, then you'll have it. In a fortnight, when I'm fully healed, I will shift before this council."
Whispers broke out again. Some were satisfied. Jose wasn't. "A king should shift, wounds or not," he said, voice colder now.
"And yet," I said, voice like steel, "I will not now. I am still your king." The silence that followed told me I'd won, for now. But it was temporary.
After they'd gone, Douglas lingered. "Was there another reason for your decision?" he asked carefully.
I looked at the moon outside the window. My prison. My reminder. "I do what's best for the kingdom," I said. "No matter the cost."
But inside, I was unraveling. Two weeks. That's all I had to either break the curse… Or prepare for the day they tore me from the throne.