Chapter 8 Ice in the Heart
Aelira’s POV
The morning sunlight slants through the hospital windows, cold and pale, as Alarion and I walk side by side down the sterile corridor. Despite the strained silence between us, hope flickers in my chest—a fragile ember. After the long, raw conversation last night, I’ve made my choice: today, I will finally tell him about the baby.
“I hope your mother’s doing better,” Alarion says, his voice cutting through the hush.
“The doctor said she was stable this morning,” I reply, my hand drifting unconsciously over my still-flat belly.
We reach my mother’s room, but as I push open the door, I freeze. The bed is empty, the sheets folded with clinical precision. Panic claws up my throat.
“Where is she?” My voice cracks, terror raw and immediate.
Alarion’s hand finds my shoulder, steady and grounding. “Easy, Aelira. Let’s ask someone.”
A nurse appears in the doorway, clipboard in hand, smile gentle. “Are you looking for Emeris Sunmere?”
“Yes,” I blurt. “Where is she?”
“She was transferred to the VIP ward early this morning,” the nurse replies, her tone bright and reassuring. “Much more comfortable.”
Relief crashes through me, leaving my knees weak. I turn to Alarion, gratitude welling up. “You did this?”
His amber gaze flicks to mine, but there’s something evasive in his eyes. “Let’s go see her,” he says, sidestepping the question.
As we walk toward the VIP wing, my heart feels suddenly lighter. For a moment, I can almost believe that the Alarion I once loved is still here, beneath the thorns of everything with Cyrinne.
“Thank you,” I murmur, voice trembling with feeling. “It means more than I can say.”
He squeezes my hand in answer. In that moment, I decide: after we see my mother, I’ll tell him about our pup. Despite everything, he deserves to know.
We approach the VIP ward, and familiar voices echo down the corridor. I recognize Jornic’s deep timbre first.
“I really appreciate what you’ve done, Daelor. Transferring her here… it’s more than I expected.”
I slow, confusion prickling my skin. Daelor? Here?
“It was nothing,” comes Daelor’s calm, distinctive reply. “Your mother deserves the best.”
Alarion tenses at my side, jaw flexing as we turn the corner. There they are: my brother and Daelor Briarhallow, side by side outside my mother’s new room.
“Daelor arranged the transfer?” I ask, my gaze darting between the men. “Not you, Alarion?”
Jornic’s eyes narrow as he spots Alarion. “So you finally decided to show up.”
“Jornic,” I warn softly. His dislike for Alarion is no secret, but I won’t allow a confrontation now.
“Your mother’s awake,” Jornic tells me, deliberately ignoring Alarion. “She’s been asking for you.”
I nod, the truth settling thick and bitter in my chest—Daelor, not Alarion, had made this happen. Alarion had let me believe otherwise, basking in another man’s kindness as if it were his own.
The VIP room is airy and sunlit, overlooking the hospital gardens. My mother looks small and fragile against the pillows, but when she sees us, her eyes light up.
“Alarion,” she breathes, her voice weak but warm. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Alarion slips into his role effortlessly, drawing up a chair and offering his most charming smile. “Mrs. Sunmere, I’m so sorry for yesterday’s confusion. The media really blew things out of proportion.”
I listen as he spins a careful narrative, explaining away the scandal with Cyrinne as nothing but routine pack business, twisted by reporters hungry for gossip.
“Cyrinne’s our Chief Healer,” he says smoothly. “Every meeting was strictly professional—about improving medical care for everyone.”
My mother’s tension melts away; she wants to believe him, to see her daughter’s future secure.
“I was so worried,” she confesses. “The news made it sound…”
“Media exaggeration,” Alarion interrupts, reassuring. “That’s all it was.”
Jornic snorts from the corner, drawing a sharp glance from me. Now is not the time.
Alarion’s composure falters when Daelor enters, his posture stiffening in subtle challenge. “Daelor. I’m surprised you’re here. Visiting patients isn’t really your thing.”
Daelor’s silver eyes remain cool. “I was visiting a pack member. When I heard about Mrs. Sunmere, I helped with the transfer.”
“How convenient,” Alarion replies, voice edged with suspicion.
I can feel the lie unraveling. “You told me you arranged this,” I say quietly.
Alarion’s jaw hardens. “I spoke with Daelor about it.”
“But you didn’t actually do anything,” I press, my voice low, not wanting to upset my mother. “You let me believe you had.”
The silence that follows is answer enough. I turn to Daelor, embarrassment and gratitude mingling painfully.
“Thank you, Daelor. For everything you’ve done for my mother.”
His gaze softens. “I didn’t do it for him, Aelira. I did it for you.”
The tension in the room thickens, the air charged with male energy and unsaid things. Alarion’s Alpha presence swells, radiating possessiveness and challenge.
“Maybe we should talk outside,” Alarion suggests, voice clipped, eyes on Daelor.
Daelor inclines his head, accepting the challenge. “Of course.”
They leave together, and I busy myself slicing fruit for my mother, hands shaking with the aftershocks of emotion.
“They’re gone now,” my mother says quietly. “You don’t have to pretend anymore.”
I meet her gaze, and the old, familiar intuition is there, undimmed by illness. “I’m just tired,” I lie, feebly.
She pats the mattress, urging me to sit. “I’m relieved about Alarion and Cyrinne. The news terrified me.”
Guilt knots in my chest. She believes his story, and I don’t have the heart to take away her peace.
“I know how much you’ve looked forward to the mating ceremony,” she says, her hand finding mine. “It’ll be beautiful, Aelira.”
“Yes,” I manage, forcing a smile.
She studies me, her amber eyes—my eyes—unblinking. “There’s something different about you, little wolf. I can sense it.”
My hand moves to my stomach, unbidden. I hadn’t meant to say anything before telling Alarion, but the truth spills out, soft and trembling.
“I’m pregnant, Mother.”
She gasps, a sound of pure, ragged joy. Her arms find me, weak but fiercely loving. “A pup! Aelira, my darling girl!”
Jornic moves to my side, his face breaking into a rare, genuine smile. “You’re sure?”
I nod, tears pooling in my eyes. “Six weeks. I found out two days ago.”
“Alarion doesn’t know?” my mother asks, hope shining in her eyes.
“No. I haven’t found the right moment.”
“Tell him now,” she urges, squeezing my hand with surprising strength. “This joy will bring you together. There’s nothing more powerful for a mated pair than a child on the way.”
Jornic nods, voice gentle for once. “Go find him, Aelira. This changes everything.”
Their excitement buoys me. Maybe they’re right. Maybe this is the turning point we need. I hug my mother, soaking in her hope.
“I’ll tell him right away,” I promise.
I step out, my heart lighter than it’s been in weeks. Sharing my secret has eased my fears, at least for now. All I need to do is find Alarion—and Daelor.
I follow the low thrum of their voices to a quiet alcove at the hallway’s end. I’m about to announce myself when Daelor’s voice stops me cold.
“Did Cyrinne sever her mate bond because of you?” he asks, his tone blunt, cutting straight to the bone.
I freeze, breath trapped in my chest.
For a moment, there is only silence. Then Alarion’s answer comes—clear, heavy, inescapable.
“Yes.”
The word detonates inside me. I stand, rooted and helpless, as the world narrows to a muffled blur. After all the explanations, all the reassurances, the truth is laid bare: Cyrinne broke her bond for Alarion.
