Chapter 230

[ 1,585 words ]

{Third Person}

The next morning, Amara appeared for their walk, as she always did.

Their morning walks had become a habit over the past several days. Before breakfast, the two of them would leave the house and walk through the surrounding grounds and the nearby wooded path.

It gave Alexander an opportunity to exercise without shifting, while Amara enjoyed the quietness of the early morning.

Neither of them had officially planned for it to become routine; it just naturally happened.

Alexander was beginning to realise that many of the things he enjoyed doing with her had happened that way.

He waited for her near the entrance.

When Amara approached, she smiled politely. “Good morning, Alexander.”

“Good morning,” he replied, giving her a good glance.

Then they started walking.

For a few minutes, everything appeared normal. Then Alexander reached out to take her hand, an action he had performed many times before.

This time, Amara hesitated for just half a second, and he noticed her pause. Her fingers slowly intertwined with his, and he gently curved his hand around hers.

They kept walking in silence.

Alexander looked down at their entwined hands; her hand now felt warm, though a faint coolness still lingered beneath her skin.

Usually, she would occasionally adjust her fingers in his or unconsciously move a little closer while they walked.

But today, she remained still, as if she was only letting him hold her hand rather than actually wanting to.

His brow furrowed. What changed?

His wolf shifted restlessly inside him. “She is hurting.”

Alexander’s eyes moved toward Amara. He hadn’t asked the question aloud, yet his wolf had answered it.

“Why?” he inquired.

His wolf offered no explanation, only growing more agitated.

Alexander disliked this feeling, having spent years with an unpredictable wolf that became harder to control as the curse worsened.

However, since Amara entered his life, the creature had been calmer. Now, it was restless again, not aggressive, just unhappy.

He sensed that unhappiness whenever Amara moved even slightly farther from him.

They continued along the path.

The morning air was cool, and sunlight filtered through the trees as they walked. Amara stopped once to look at a small cluster of flowers growing beside the path, but even that felt different.

Normally she would have called him over. Today she simply looked at them before continuing.

Alexander watched her quietly. He wanted to ask what was wrong, but he wasn’t certain how to begin.

After a while, a light breeze moved through the trees and caught several strands of Amara’s hair, blowing them across her face.

Without thinking, he lifted his hand and gently brushed the strands from her eyes. The moment his fingers brushed her hair, she instinctively stepped back.

It was only one step.

She immediately seemed to realise what she had done. Her eyes widened slightly. “I’m sorry.”

His hand remained suspended for a moment before he lowered it. “Why are you apologising?”

“I wasn’t expecting it.” She gave him a small smile. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

He studied her, then said, “I know.”

There was no accusation in his voice, but somehow, that made her feel worse. She lowered her eyes.

Alexander looked away, but his jaw tightened. She wasn’t outright rejecting him; she was just cautious about how close she allowed herself to get. And he didn’t understand why.

His expression hardened slightly. He had never been good at understanding feelings that weren’t spoken.

He really wanted to know what had happened.

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For the next three days, Alexander watched Amara more closely.

He did not question her repeatedly or demand that she tell him what was wrong. He had considered doing so, but he knew enough about her by now to understand that pressing her would only make her retreat further. So, he gave her space.

Maybe she was upset over something not related to him. Perhaps she needed some time alone. If he gave her enough space, she might eventually come to him and share what had happened.

But the days passed, and nothing changed.

Amara remained polite and considerate, but the ease between them was gone.

She still accompanied him on their morning walks, still sat with him at meals, and still answered whenever he spoke to her. Yet she no longer sought his attention as she once had.

She avoided reaching for his hand, didn’t ask him to pass anything, and didn’t linger during their time together.

Even her questions had disappeared.

Alexander found himself missing them.

By the third evening, he had accepted that waiting was no longer enough.

After dinner, Amara rose from her seat and offered him the same gentle smile she had been giving him for days.

“Thank you for dinner.”

“You’re welcome.”

She nodded and left the dining room.

He watched until she disappeared from sight, then he turned toward the nearest servant.

“Ask Mrs. Woods to come here.”

It did not take long. Mrs. Woods entered the dining room and approached him with a respectful bow.

“You called for me, Your Highness?”

Alexander leaned back slightly in his chair. “Do you know why Amara has been unhappy these past few days?”

Mrs. Woods hesitated. “I have noticed that she has been quieter than usual, Your Highness, but she hasn’t told me what is troubling her.”

“You haven’t asked?”

“I have, but she simply tells me that she is fine.”

Alexander’s expression remained composed, but his eyes narrowed slightly. “Has she shared anything with you at all?”

Mrs. Woods shook her head. “No, Your Highness.”

Alexander was silent for a moment, then he ordered, “Try again.”

Mrs. Woods nodded. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“If something is troubling her, I want to know what it is.”

“I understand.” Mrs. Woods bowed before leaving the room.

—

The following morning, Mrs. Woods stood silently behind Amara in her dressing room, carefully drying her hair before arranging it for the day.

Mrs. Woods had known her long enough to understand that silence could sometimes say more than words.

She continued working on Amara’s hair before finally speaking. “My lady, may I ask you something?”

Amara met her eyes through the mirror. “Of course.”

“You have seemed rather quiet these past few days.”

Amara looked down. “Have I?”

“Yes.” Mrs. Woods gently ran the brush through her hair. “You don’t seem quite yourself.”

Amara gave a faint smile. “I’m fine.”

Mrs Woods did not argue; she simply continued with her work.

After a few moments, Amara’s expression changed. She seemed to be considering something.

“Mrs. Woods?” she finally called.

“Yes, my lady?”

“What would happen if His Highness found his mate?”

The brush stopped. Mrs. Woods stared at Amara’s reflection, her brows constricting in a frown.

“I do not quite understand your question, my lady.”

Amara hesitated, then she turned slightly in her chair. “What will be my fate when His Highness brings his mate home?”

Suddenly, everything fell into place for Mrs. Woods—the change in Amara’s behaviour, the sadness in her eyes, the distance she had been creating between herself and Alexander.

Mrs. Woods understood. Amara believed Alexander had found his mate.

Her expression softened. “My lady, you shouldn’t worry about that. His Highness’s mate will naturally hold the position of his principal wife.”

Mrs. Woods explained carefully, “But that does not mean your position will disappear. You are his first wife and the political bride of this kingdom. Your position is secure.”

Amara listened quietly, but Mrs. Woods could tell from her expression that the answer had not reassured her.

Amara lowered her eyes. This was not the answer she wanted.

Mrs. Woods watched her for a moment before putting the brush down. “My lady.”

Amara lifted her gaze, and she continued, “You can tell me anything. I am here to listen to you.”

Amara stayed silent. Mrs. Woods did not press her. The room remained quiet for a few moments. At last, Amara’s lips moved.

“Will His Highness neglect me when his mate shows up?”

Mrs. Woods stared at her.

Amara’s voice became softer. “Will he no longer care for me?” She swallowed. “Will he no longer spend time with me?”

Mrs. Woods was momentarily unable to answer. She had expected Amara to be concerned about her position, but this was something different.

Amara wasn’t worried about her title. She feared losing His Highness.

Mrs. Woods rose from her seat and moved around to stand in front of her.

“My lady,” she said gently, her expression filled with concern, “why would you think like that?”

Amara looked away.

“His Highness genuinely cares for you. That much is obvious. I don’t believe that will suddenly disappear.”

“But his mate…” Amara started, but Mrs. Woods cut her off.

“Don’t think like that.” Mrs. Woods shook her head gently. “Nothing will change simply because he has a mate.”

Seeing that Amara wasn’t lifting her head, Mrs. Woods sighed.

“I understand why you are frightened. A mate holds an important place in werewolf society, and no one can simply pretend otherwise. But His Highness has shown you kindness and care because he wants to. You have seen it yourself.”

Amara’s fingers tightened together in her lap.

That was precisely what frightened her. She knew how much a mate meant to a werewolf. She knew the bond wasn’t comparable to a political marriage.

A political bride might gain respect, be honored, and even be loved. However, a mate represents something more profound—an instinctive connection that cannot be easily dismissed.

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