Chapter 247: Chapter 247

Rowan’s face went hard. Kael opened his mouth. Both of them moved slowly, like the weight of what had happened sat on their shoulders. They didn’t need telling twice, but they still hesitated.

"Damon..." Rowan started.

"Leave." I didn’t let him finish. "You have no right to stand here and argue while she lies there."

Kael’s jaw tightened. "We’re not arguing. We..."

"Go." My voice broke on the last word.

"Go and get air. Leave the room."

They looked at me as if they wanted one last thing to say, but nothing fit. They walked out slowly, heavy steps, each carrying his own guilt. I watched the door close, and I felt both relief and a fresh burn of anger.

I turned back to the bed.

She was still asleep. Her face was white in a way that hurt me in my chest. The light from the candle made her cheek look thin, fragile. Her lips were cracked. Her breath came slow, like the tide pulling out.

He stepped forward, careful as a man carrying a glass life.

"Can you wake her?" My words tumbled out fast. I felt stupid and desperate all at once.

He did not look surprised at my anger. He looked at me with pity and a calm I wanted. "We can help her," he said. "But she must be handled softly. The body, when starved, cannot take much at once. Start slow. Warm fluids. Little at a time. Barley or oat gruel later when she tolerates liquids. Avoid heavy meat. Use honey, milk if she can take it. Soft-boiled egg if the stomach holds."

"I need to prepare that, just make sure that she is fine," I said, already thinking of the kitchen, of warm broth, of the smell of soup in the halls.

My legs protested, weak and unfaithful, but I pushed myself up. My body felt like a house on fire. Each small move was a pain. It didn’t matter. I would do anything to see her take a small sip.

The doctor bowed. "I will not leave her. I will be by her side, your majesty." He cut the thought short and moved with a calm speed.

I walked down the corridor and finally got to the kitchen.

"Alpha," Matilda said, bowing so fast she nearly slipped. "You...are you well? You should..."

"I will live," I said. My voice came out rough.

"Matilda, I need simple things. Barley. A small chicken. Honey. Apples. Boil them. Make two pots of strong broth and one light barley gruel. Bring boiled water with honey in a cup for me. Bring small cups. Do you understand?"

Matilda froze mid-step, her face pale beneath the kitchen firelight. The clatter of spoons and knives fell silent. A dozen eyes turned toward me, wide, afraid, uncertain if they had heard right.

"Of course, Alpha," Matilda stammered. "But..."

"But what?" I snapped, sharper than I meant. My chest tightened from the effort. I wanted to tear the world apart until something made sense, until something fixed her.

Matilda swallowed hard, her hands twisting in her apron. "Alpha, after the poison... the healer said your body still needs rest. You should not be near the fire, let alone..."

"She is my..." I stopped. Saying her name felt too raw. "She needs food. And I will make sure she eats."

Matilda’s lips parted in disbelief. The maids behind her whispered quietly, too low for words, their faces tight with fear. The Alpha, their Alpha, standing in the kitchen, speaking of barley and broth? They didn’t know what to do with it.

Matilda drew herself up, voice trembling but respectful. "Alpha, please, this is not, you cannot...."

"It is an order," I said, steady now. "I will help. You will guide me. I cannot trust anyone else with this."

The words dropped like stones in the air. For a moment, no one moved. Then the girls started shifting, fumbling for pots and spoons, avoiding my eyes as if one wrong glance could earn them wrath. They feared me still, I saw it in every movement. But they obeyed.

Matilda bowed her head low. "Yes, Alpha. We will help. But... promise you will not strain yourself."

"I promise," I said. And though my body trembled, I meant it.

The kitchen came to life again, careful and cautious, every sound louder in the hush of fear. Pots clanked. Water hissed as it met the iron. Fire licked higher under the cauldrons. I leaned against the wooden table for balance, the heat wrapping around me.

"Bring me the barley," I said. "Wash it twice. Make it soft. Boil it for a long time. Mash it until smooth. Add a little honey, not much. A teaspoon per cup."

A young maid crept forward with the barley sack, her eyes darting up to my face. "Alpha... you will cook it yourself?" she whispered.

"Yes," I said simply. "Now wash it."

The words were quiet, but she flinched and hurried off.

Matilda hesitated beside me. "Alpha... forgive me, but...why? You never set foot here. The maids can..."

I rolled my sleeves past my elbows.

Matilda’s breath caught. She turned and barked orders to the rest. "Two on broth. One on barley. One to peel and boil apples. Keep everything clean!" Her voice was steady now, strong, though her eyes kept flicking toward me as if afraid I might collapse.

I took up the wooden spoon and stirred. My hands trembled slightly, the motion small but enough to draw every gaze in the room. Their fear mixed with awe now, they watched the Alpha stirring barely like it were a sacred act.

Matilda edged closer, lowering her voice. "Alpha, you sure you remember how to cook?"

A faint, humorless smile touched my mouth. "Sure," I said. "You taught my brothers and me so well."

She blinked, and for a heartbeat, her eyes softened before she turned away.

The smell of broth and cooked grain filled the air. It was warm, simple. When the barley was softened, I ladled it into a cup, thinned it with boiled water, and tasted it. It was bland, but clean. Honest.

The broth steamed faintly in the small cup I carried, its warmth seeping through the wood and into my palm. The smell was simple, barley, honey, faint mint. I had tasted it myself to be sure. It was right. It was safe. Googlᴇ search 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹~𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮~𝚗𝚎𝚝

Matilda followed a few paces behind, silent, her head bowed. No one else dared look directly at me as I passed through the hall. They stepped aside, bowing low, their eyes full of fear and confusion.

When I reached the clinic, the air was cool and heavy with herbs. The healer’s apprentice looked up sharply, almost dropping his bowl when he saw me.

"Alpha...you shouldn’t..."

"She’s awake?" I asked.

"Still sleeping, my lord. The fever is down, but she...."

He swallowed, nodded, and moved aside. I walked to her bed.

For a moment, I just stood there, the cup trembling slightly in my hand. I had faced wars, betrayals, poison, but nothing had ever made me feel as helpless as this small woman lying still before me.

I set the cup down on the tray beside her and sat. The chair creaked softly. I dipped a cloth into the cool water bowl and pressed it against her forehead. Her skin was warm, but no longer burning.

"Lisa," I said quietly. "It’s me."

No response. Only the faint sound of her breath.

I waited. The minutes crawled like hours.

Then, faintly, a sound. A soft, broken grunt escaped Lisa’s lips. Her brows furrowed, her mouth moved as if forming words. I leaned closer, holding my breath.

Her lashes trembled. Slowly, painfully, her eyes opened, dull, unfocused, but alive.

I froze. For a heartbeat, the world stopped moving.

She blinked slowly, then rasped, voice hoarse and cracked, "My... baby..."

Her eyes moved weakly across the room, searching. "Where’s... my baby?"