Lyra’s POV
Lothian grabbed a small satchel, slinging it over his shoulder.
“We do not have time to argue.
The Alpha called for council.
We will leave the potion for now.
You will finish it later.
Now move,” he said firmly.
Lyra hesitated, looking at the carefully prepared herbs, her hands hovering above them.
“I… I do not want to leave it unattended,” she whispered.
Her voice was low, filled with worry.
The memory of her room, the open window, and the thought that someone could have been watching her gnawed at her nerves.
Lothian stepped closer, his eyes softening but serious.
“You do not need to worry,” he said calmly.
“It is safe here.
No one would dare enter the infirmary to take anything and leave alive.”
She blinked at him, still unsure.
“Even here?
Even with someone as clever as… whoever came into my room?” she asked.
Her voice trembled slightly.
“I cannot risk it.”
He shook his head slowly, a faint smile touching his lips.
“There are guards at the door.
Always.
And more than that, there are traps.
Clever traps.
Even a seasoned thief would think twice before trying this room,” he explained.
Her brows furrowed, still uncertain.
“Traps?” she asked, a hint of disbelief in her voice.
“What kind of traps?”
He crossed his arms, his expression steady.
“Nothing that would hurt you, I promise.
But anyone with ill intent would find it… uncomfortable, to say the least.
Traps are meant to protect the herbs, the tools, and the potion we are working on,” he noted.
Lyra’s eyes flicked to the herbs again, the fear in her chest slowly fading.
“I suppose… I suppose that helps,” she admitted quietly.
She shifted closer to the table.
“I just… I cannot stop thinking about what happened in my room.
I cannot ignore it,” she added.
Lothian nodded, understanding.
“I understand.
I would not ignore it either.
But here, it is different.
You are not alone, and this is not your private room.
Guards and protections are in place.
You can focus on the work without fear,” he replied.
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
“I… I hope you are right,” she said softly.
Her wolf stirred uneasily, still alert, still sensing possible danger.
He crouched slightly so that his eyes were level with hers.
“I am.
You can trust this room.
Trust me,” he said.
His voice was calm, and firm.
“The herbs, the potion, everything is safe.
Nothing will happen while we are not in the room,” he assured her.
She exhaled slowly, letting some of the tension leave her shoulders.
“I suppose you are right,” she admitted.
“It is just… hard to let go of the fear sometimes.”
He nodded, understanding fully.
“I know.
That is why I am here.
I will watch.
I will guide.
Nothing will touch this work while we are gone,” he promised.
Her wolf gave a soft, approving stir, as if agreeing with the safety he promised.
“And,” he added after a pause, “if anyone were foolish enough to try anything, they would regret it.
There is no escape from the traps.”
Lyra gave a small nod, the tension in her body easing further.
“Alright,” she said softly.
Lothian smiled.
“When the Alpha calls, you leave everything and answer,” he said firmly.
“We will finish it when we return.
Now let’s go.”
She nodded reluctantly, gathering her courage, and followed him out of the infirmary.
Her mind raced with questions.
What had happened between the time she left Ronan’s room and now?
Why was the Alpha calling a meeting in the middle of the night?
And why did she feel her wolf twisting inside her chest, sensing something she could not name, something dangerous but familiar?
The corridors were quiet, the faint echo of their footsteps the only sound.
Lyra kept her eyes on the walls, alert for any sign of danger.
Her wolf pricked its ears, tense.
She did not know why she felt protective, but the thought of him, the Alpha, always lingering somewhere in her mind, would not leave her alone.
They arrived at the council chamber.
The large doors were already open, showing guards stationed at the entrance.
She could feel the weight of authority pressing against her from all sides.
Ronan was already there, standing at the head of the table, his posture rigid and his face hard, but there was an edge of sharpness in his gaze that made the air feel heavier.
He was speaking to Ash when they entered, but the moment he saw them, his focus shifted.
He moved toward them instantly.
“Lyra, you are here,” he said, his voice low but clear, his eyes flicking between her and Lothian.
He arched a brow at Lothian.
If they were not in front of Ronan, she would have thrown something at Lothian’s head.
“Yes, Alpha,” she replied softly, keeping her head lowered.
Her hands fidgeted slightly at her sides.
She knew that she should not have listened to Lothian.
Ronan had not expected her to be present, which meant she was out of place in the council chamber tonight.
She cursed herself quietly.
Damn him.
She had not meant to break protocol.
As if sensing her thoughts, Lothian offered her a faint, reassuring smile, the kind that told her not to worry too much.
Then he turned to Ronan.
“She’s the head cook, Alpha.
She should be here for tonight’s council too,” he said.
Ronan’s brow lifted further, and for a moment his expression softened, though just slightly.
“Ah.
I guess so…” he muttered.
His gaze flicked to her again, lingering just a fraction longer than necessary.
“I just wasn’t expecting you this night.
But… welcome to the council, head cook,” Ronan said.
His tone was neutral, but there was an unspoken weight in the words, like he was testing her reaction, measuring her nerve.
She blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the small acknowledgment.
Her lips parted, but no words came immediately.
She had expected a scolding, at the very least a glance that said she had overstepped, and been asked to leave.
Instead, he had… accepted her presence.
That small acceptance caused her wolf to jump with excitement.
Lothian nudged her forward gently, his hand brushing her elbow.
“You belong here, Lyra,” he whispered, his voice low enough for only her to hear.
She nodded slightly, a quiet thank you forming in her mind, though she did not speak it aloud.
Her wolf stirred in approval at his words, sensing the subtle shift in the room’s energy.
She had been sent to Blackthorn as a tribute, but now, she was in council.
She felt the weight of all those eyes indirectly, the curiosity and the silent questions about why she was here.
Ronan, meanwhile, had turned back to Ash, and though his tone returned to his usual calm authority, she noticed the way he glanced at her every second.
She felt a flicker of something else… was it pride?
No, not pride, not yet.
More like a cautious relief.
Relief that, at least in this moment, she had a real reason to be here, and that Lothian’s help had saved her from possible embarrassment or worse.
She took a deep breath, steadying her nerves, as they stepped closer to the table, ready to take part, ready to watch, ready to do whatever she needed to protect her new pack, Blackthorn, the Alpha, and herself.