Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother

Chapter 115

Elara’s POV

Weeks in a white room will hollow you out in ways you don’t expect.

Not the dramatic kind of hollowing—that had already happened. Moonlight was gone. That wound had scabbed over into something dull and permanent, a phantom limb I still reached for every morning before remembering. No, this was the slow, grinding kind. The kind that comes from counting ceiling stones. From memorizing the pattern of cracks in the plaster. From lying still so long your body starts to forget it was ever meant to move.

The medical wing smelled of dried lavender and bitter tincture. Always. The healers rotated fresh bundles every evening, but the sharpness underneath never faded. Antiseptic. Clean linen. The faint metallic tang of whatever salve they slathered across my bandages during the morning rounds.

I was healing. Physician Morgan told me so every single day with the same careful, measured optimism. My wounds were closing. My blood levels were stabilizing. My body, despite everything, was knitting itself back together with a stubbornness that seemed to impress him.

"Remarkable," he’d said earlier, adjusting the compress on my shoulder. "For a—well. For someone in your current condition, you’re recovering faster than I anticipated."

For a mortal. That’s what he meant. He was too professional to say it outright, but the pause did the work for him. Every healer who examined me now carried that same careful pause. The space where they swallowed the word human before it left their mouths.

I stared at the ceiling and pressed my palm flat against my belly.

Beneath my hand, the slight curve answered. Warm. Present. Still there.

Morgan called the baby a little miracle. Every morning he pressed the listening horn to my abdomen and nodded, his lined face softening. "Strong heartbeat. Steady. This child is a fighter."

A fighter. Like its mother used to be.

I closed my eyes and focused on the warmth beneath my palm. This was what I had left. This tiny, stubborn life growing inside me despite everything that had tried to destroy us both. Moonlight was gone. My wolf senses were gone. My strength, my speed, my place in the empire’s hierarchy—all of it, stripped away. But this remained. This small, defiant heartbeat drumming against my hand like a promise.

I’m still here, it seemed to say. We’re still here.

A knock at the door. Soft. Tentative.

Then a voice that cracked my ribs open every single time.

"Mommy?"

I pushed myself upright against the pillows. The movement pulled at the healing skin across my torso, but I didn’t care. I was already smiling before the door swung open.

Valerius stood in the doorway. Five years old and so achingly small against the massive oak frame. His dark curls were slightly mussed—Kaelen never managed to comb them properly—and his golden eyes were wide and searching. He clutched something in his fist. A dandelion. Half wilted, its stem bent from being gripped too tightly for too long.

"Baby," I breathed. "Come here."

He didn’t need to be told twice. He crossed the room at a run, his boots slapping against the stone floor, and scrambled up onto the edge of my bed with the graceless urgency of a child who had been waiting far too long for this moment.

"Careful with Mommy," I heard from the doorway. A deep voice. Quiet authority.

Valerius ignored it entirely and burrowed into my side.

I wrapped my arm around him and pulled him close, pressing my nose into his curls. He smelled like soap and grass and something sweet—honey cakes, probably. Brenna always snuck him treats.

"I brought you this." He thrust the dandelion upward without lifting his face from my ribs. "It was really yellow before. But it got tired on the way here."

I took it carefully. Twirled the drooping stem between my fingers. "It’s beautiful. It’s the best flower anyone’s ever given me."

"Really?"

"Really."

He tilted his head up. Those dark gold eyes—his father’s eyes, down to the exact shade—studied my face with a seriousness no child should possess.

"When are you coming home, Mommy?"

The question landed like a stone in still water.

"Soon, sweetheart. Very soon."

"How soon? Because Daddy reads the voices wrong." His brow furrowed—a perfect miniature of Kaelen’s expression when something displeased him. "He does the dragon voice too deep and the princess voice too squeaky. It’s not right."

A laugh escaped me. Small and raw and genuine. It hurt my ribs and I didn’t care.

"I’ll come home and fix the voices. I promise."

"Valerius."

Kaelen stepped into the room. He filled the doorway the way he filled every space—completely. His court uniform was immaculate, dark fabric tailored sharp across his broad shoulders. But his face told a different story. New lines had carved themselves around his eyes. A weariness that no amount of pressed linen could disguise. His hair, usually perfectly swept back, was slightly disordered, as though he’d been running his hands through it.

He looked exhausted. He looked powerful. He looked like a man holding himself together through sheer discipline while something inside him slowly crumbled.

"Give Mommy a moment to rest," he said. His tone was gentle but firm. "There are people waiting for you in the corridor."

"But I just got here—"

"Valerius."

The boy huffed. Pressed one fierce kiss against my cheek. Then slid off the bed with exaggerated reluctance, dragging his feet the entire way to the door.

"I’ll come back again soon," he announced. Not a question. A decree. Then he disappeared into the corridor, where I caught the brief murmur of a familiar female voice—Brenna, or possibly Sir Cassian—before the door drifted half shut.

Kaelen remained.

He stood at the foot of my bed. Hands clasped behind his back. The posture of a man giving a military briefing, not visiting his injured mate.

"How are you feeling today?"

"Better." I tucked the wilted dandelion behind my ear. "Morgan says I’m healing well. I was thinking—maybe soon I could come home. Start getting back to—"

"Don’t rush it." His voice was clipped. Not unkind, but firm. Final. "There’s no urgency. Your only task right now is to heal."

Something flickered in his expression. A shadow that passed too quickly for me to name.

"Kaelen, I’m going to lose my mind if I stay in this room much longer. I need to do something. Even if it’s just reviewing documents, or—"

"We can discuss it later. Rest now."

He held my gaze for a beat. Then he turned and walked out.

No kiss. No lingering touch. No we face this together like he’d promised when I first woke up. Just the crisp click of his boots on stone and the door left slightly ajar behind him.

I stared at the empty doorway.

The silence settled around me like snowfall.

Then—voices. Faint. Drifting through the gap in the door.

With my former wolf’s hearing, I could have caught a whispered conversation through solid stone walls. But I’d lost that. I was mortal now. Ordinary ears, ordinary range, ordinary everything.

Except Kaelen hadn’t gone far. He’d stopped just beyond the doorway. And his voice, even lowered, was the voice of a man accustomed to being heard.

"...Claire, I need the candidate portfolios delivered to my study promptly."

A pause. The faint hum of a communication stone activating.

"Yes, Your Majesty. How many candidates should I prepare?"

"All of them. I want options. Schedule formal interviews in the coming days. I need someone in the position before she comes home."

My breath stopped.

"Understood, sire. Should I prioritize candidates with imperial administrative experience, or—"

"Both administrative and diplomatic. Someone who can manage the advisory workload long-term. Full scope."

Another pause. Then Claire’s voice, more cautious: "And Lady Elara’s current title?"

Kaelen’s answer came without hesitation. Low. Decisive. The voice of an emperor who had already made up his mind.

"She can’t go back to that role. She’s too fragile now. Find me someone permanent."

The communication stone hummed once more and went silent.

I sat perfectly still in my white bed, my hand resting over the soft kick of the baby, as the wilted dandelion slipped from behind my ear and landed quietly on the pillow.