Sixteen

The wind carried the scent of pine and the faintest trace of rain as it rolled through the open windows of the healer's quarters. Arin sat near the hearth, wrapped in a thick woolen shawl, her hands cupped around a warm mug of herbal tea. The steady rhythm of crackling flames was a comforting backdrop to the quiet that had settled over the room. Her body still ached, but the worst of it had passed. The fever had broken, the bruises were healing, and her strength, though not fully restored, was slowly returning.

The door creaked open, and Arin looked up as Zayan stepped inside, his presence as steady and commanding as ever. He wore a simple linen shirt and trousers, his dark hair tied back, his scent clean with only a hint of forest clinging to him.

"You are awake," he said, a faint smile softening the hard lines of his face.

Arin gave him a small nod. "And still very much alive. Thanks to you."

Zayan closed the door behind him and crossed the room, stopping just a few paces from where she sat.

"It is good to see you recovering so well, it felt like you might not make it the first night," he said, pulling a chair over. "Even Sera was nervous. And she's not usually one to worry."

Arin smiled faintly. "I didn't mean to be a burden."

"You weren't." He sat down, watching her carefully. "How do you feel?"

"Better. Tired still. But the pain is dull now. Manageable."

"Good." He leaned back in his chair, arms resting on the sides. "You're healing faster than we expected. I suppose is a surprise."

She tilted her head. "Because I'm wolfless?"

"No," Zayan said simply. "Because you came in looking broken."

The words struck her like a quiet storm—unexpected and stirring something deep within her. She looked away, down at her tea. The silence stretched, but it wasn't uncomfortable.

After a moment, she spoke. "I wanted to thank you."

"You don't have to—"

"I do," she said quickly, looking back at him. "You saved my life. You gave me a place to rest, to heal. You protected me when no one else would. I owe you more than I can ever repay."

Zayan's gaze didn't waver. "I didn't do it for a reward."

"I know." Her voice was soft, steady. "But I still wish I could do something. I don't like feeling useless. And I don't want to bring danger to your pack. If the king ever finds out I'm here, he—"

"Arin." Zayan's voice was quiet but firm, cutting through her words without harshness. "You have no reason to leave unless you truly want to."

She blinked, surprised by the strength in his tone.

"This is my pack," he continued. "I am Alpha here. No one, not even the king, has authority within these borders. Not unless I permit it. And I don't."

Her breath caught. "But—"

"I know what Roan is," Zayan said, his expression unreadable. "I've dealt with him before. He rules his kingdom with pride and iron. But this isn't his place. It's mine."

The finality in his words wrapped around her like a shield, offering a kind of safety she had not felt in weeks. Maybe longer. But even so, her heart twisted with uncertainty.

"I don't want to bring your people into the middle of something dangerous," she murmured. "He could retaliate."

"He won't," Zayan said, calm and certain. "And if he tries, he will find we aren't so easy to intimidate."

Arin looked at him, searching his face. She saw no arrogance in his confidence, only truth. The weight of it was grounding.

"You're free to stay for as long as you like," he said. "No one will force you to go. No one will treat you like an outsider here. You've been through enough. Let yourself breathe, at least for a little while."

Her eyes stung, but she blinked the tears away. "You are too kind."

"I'm practical," Zayan corrected gently. "You needed help. I offered it. That's all."

"It's more than that," she whispered.

He didn't argue, but his silence was warm rather than dismissive. Arin took a slow breath, then another. The air felt easier to breathe now.

"I do want to contribute, though," she said after a pause. "I can't just sit here and do nothing. I don't know much about healing or fighting, but I can learn. I'm a fast learner. I'm good with details. I used to help manage the library at home and then at the palace when I wasn't needed for appearances. And I can cook, a little."

Zayan watched her with an amused glint in his eye. "You're offering your skills already?"

"I mean it," she said earnestly. "I'm not just passing through. If I'm going to stay here, even for a while, I want to be useful."

He was quiet for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. I'll find something for you to do. But only once you're fully recovered."

She smiled—small but real. "Thank you."

Zayan stood and moved toward the fire, stirring the embers with a thick iron poker. The flames rose a little higher, throwing dancing shadows across the room.

"You might be surprised," he said after a moment. "There's more going on in this pack than meets the eye. We could use someone who pays attention to details. Someone who listens before they speak. That's rarer than you think."

She sipped her tea, thoughtful. "What do you mean?"

Zayan glanced back at her. "We're not just surviving out here. We're preparing."

"For war?" she asked quietly.

"For change," he replied. "The one constant is change and it almost always draws blood before it brings peace."

Arin absorbed his words, heart thudding softly in her chest. "And you think I can help with that?"

"I think you are stronger than you realize," Zayan said. "And strength comes in many forms."

They didn't speak for a while after that. The fire cracked and popped. The scent of herbs filled the room. Outside, the wind shifted again, carrying the scent of rain closer still.

Eventually, Zayan straightened. "I will check in tomorrow. Rest. Sera left some food in the basket by the door. Eat all of it or she will be sure to scold both of us."

Arin smiled. "Noted."

He gave her one last look—steady, reassuring—then turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

Arin sat there a long time after he was gone, listening to the silence, feeling its weight and its safety. Her heart felt steadier. For the first time in what felt like forever, she wasn't just running or hiding. She was standing still. Breathing. Healing.

She looked around the room, then down at her hands. They still trembled faintly, but she curled them into fists and released them slowly. She would find a way to be useful. To earn her place. Maybe not to repay Zayan, but to honor the choice he had given her.

A choice she hadn't had in a long, long time.