Chapter 2 Hearts on Trial
Aelira’s POV
My hand drifts unconsciously to shield my still-flat belly. This isn’t how I imagined unveiling our secret—not in a haze of cold suspicion and perfume-stained air.
Before I can utter a word, Alarion’s face hardens, the lines of his jaw set with merciless certainty. “You can’t be pregnant, Aelira.”
His denial slams into me like a backhand. Not a question. Not even incredulity. Just flat, glacial certainty.
“What?” I manage, my voice strangled, barely more than a whisper.
He repeats himself, softer but unyielding. “You can’t be. It’s the medication making you sick again.”
A strange, guilty relief washes over me. He doesn’t know. The truth—my truth—remains mine, not spat into this poisoned air, not tainted by the shadow of Cyrinne. I can still choose when to reveal it.
“What medication?” I ask, the question genuine but tinged with dread. Eiryn stirs inside me, agitated, confused.
Alarion’s brow knits, his amber eyes clouded with concern. “The fertility supplements you’ve been taking. You shouldn’t be overdosing on them—they’re obviously making you ill.”
A new wave of nausea crests inside me, this time born of his words, not pregnancy.
“How do you know about those?” I whisper, though I already sense the answer. My pulse hammers in my throat, a frantic warning.
He shifts, uncomfortable. “Cyrinne mentioned it. She’s seen them. She said they’re prescribed for fertility issues.”
“Cyrinne,” I echo, her name bitter and sharp on my tongue. “And what else did your… friend tell you about my medication?”
His casual mention of her makes my wolf bristle. Eiryn lets out a low, restless growl, vibrating beneath my skin.
Alarion rakes a hand through his hair, frustration leaking from every movement. “She said they’re usually for females with trouble conceiving. She was worried about side effects.”
“And you just believed her?” My voice lifts, anger threading through the words.
“She’s a healer, Aelira. She knows what she’s talking about.”
I straighten, drawing strength from the heat. “And you trusted her over me? I told you they were herbal vitamins.”
“You didn’t want me to worry.” His scent sharpens, edged with frustration. “But I’ve noticed—you’re at Aethervale constantly, always trying some new herbal remedy. The pattern’s obvious.”
My wolf lets out a wounded whimper as the bleak truth lands. “So you think I’m the broken one, Alarion? Is that it?”
His silence is louder than any answer. He can’t even meet my gaze.
“Is that what you think?” I press, needing to claw the truth from his lips.
He exhales, heavy, defeated. “The evidence suggests—”
“Evidence?” My voice cracks, brittle with betrayal. “What about trust, Alarion? What about faith in your mate?”
My world splinters. Three years mated. Three years of hope and heartbreak, of watching his disappointment build month after month. Three years of slipping away to Dr. Myrren, desperate for answers—only to discover I was never the problem. The flaw was his, but I kept his pride intact, bore Roderic Riven’s silent scorn, endured the pack’s whispered judgments for failing to produce an heir.
All this time, he saw me as the defective one.
“Alarion, the medication isn’t—” I start, but the office door swings wide, slicing my words in two.
Cyrinne stands poised in the frame, lips pursed in a performance of apology, but her emerald eyes gleam with unmistakable satisfaction.
“So sorry to interrupt again,” she sings, letting the tension thicken. “My car broke down in the pack parking lot. I was hoping for a ride home?”
Alarion stiffens, the muscle in his jaw twitching. “I’m in the middle of something, Cyrinne.”
She glances between us, feigning innocence. “Of course. But everyone will be leaving soon, and I wouldn’t want the new Chief Healer stranded, would we?” Her gaze turns to me, all sugar. “You wouldn’t mind, right, Aelira? Alarion and I have been friends since we were pups.”
For a heartbeat, I doubt myself. Am I chasing shadows? Am I being paranoid?
I force a smile, polite and unyielding. “Of course I don’t mind.”
For an instant, relief flickers across Alarion’s face.
“Luthen can arrange transportation for you, Cyrinne,” I say, keeping my voice sweet but sharpening the edge. “My mate and I have important matters to discuss.”
Alarion hesitates, torn, conflicted. His scent betrays him—duty to me at war with whatever still binds him to her.
“Aelira,” he starts, his voice pleading.
I don’t let my smile falter, but my eyes sharpen, cold as glass. “I insist.”
Cyrinne doesn’t bother with pretense. “It’s just a quick ride, Aelira. Fifteen minutes, tops.” She glides closer, fingers brushing Alarion’s arm, as if reminding us both of her claim. “Besides, Alarion and I need to finalize the healing center plans. My reputation as Chief Healer is at stake.”
A growl vibrates in my chest, barely contained. “And being seen with the Alpha—who already has a Luna—wouldn’t damage your image?”
Cyrinne’s face morphs, feigning surprise. “I assumed you knew I was Alarion’s childhood sweetheart before your wolves recognized each other as mates.”
Her words hit like a douse of ice water. My wolf recoils, whimpering.
“Cyrinne,” Alarion warns, voice taut.
She lifts a delicate hand. “Ancient history, truly. We were practically engaged before fate intervened. Then I found my darling Draven…” She lets her voice trail off, all wounded nostalgia.
“You were engaged?” I whisper, staring at Alarion. His face says everything before the words can form.
“Not officially,” he mutters, eyes sliding away.
Cyrinne’s laugh is light, effortless. “Only because your father insisted on waiting until your twenty-first birthday. The ring was already picked out.”
Alarion silences her with a low, angry growl. “Enough. Luthen will take you home.”
Luthen, his Beta, materializes in the doorway, silent and efficient. He nods to me with respect, then gently ushers Cyrinne away.
She glances back, a glint in her eye. “See you tomorrow, Alex.” The nickname lands like a slap.
Her perfume lingers long after she’s gone, cloying, toxic.
I stand frozen, reeling from the revelation. He never told me about Cyrinne—the almost-engagement, the history. She’s wormed her way back into our lives, into this house, into his hours and thoughts.
“Was she telling the truth?” My voice is barely more than breath.
Alarion shifts, uncomfortable, cornered. “It was years ago.”
“That’s not an answer,” I snap, the last threads of patience unraveling. “Were you engaged to her?”
“Informally.” He won’t meet my eyes. “Our families arranged it since we were children.”
“And you never thought to mention it?” My voice rises, frayed and raw.
“It wasn’t important,” he says, defensive.
“Not important?” Disbelief cracks through me. “Your ex-fiancée is in our pack house, you’re having secret meetings with her, and it’s not important?”
The door closes at last. I shove Alarion away, my hands trembling, adrenaline burning through me.
“Do you still love her?” I force the words out, barely steady.
His amber eyes flare. “No. Of course not.”
“Don’t lie to me.” My voice breaks, splintered with heartbreak. “Cyrinne was your first love. The one you almost married before fate gave you me.”
“Cyrinne is my past, Aelira. You are my mate.” He steps closer, reaching, but I retreat.
“Am I?” The question shudders out of me. “Or am I just the woman fate stuck you with?”
My wolf cowers, sensing my anguish. “If you still love her…” The words taste like ash. “I can sever our mate bond if that’s what you want.”
His eyes widen with shock. “What are you saying?”
“The procedure is dangerous,” I press on, my voice hollow, “but it would free you. You could—”
I freeze. There, by the door, a faint scent—someone is listening. A shadow shifts in the crack beneath the frame.
Alarion’s gaze follows mine, his expression darkening. He steps in, lowering his voice to a warning.
“That’s enough, Aelira. Don’t play games with this.” His tone sharpens, the Alpha in him reasserting control. “There is nothing between Cyrinne and me.”
