It was silent.
No one was speaking; they didn’t need any words to exchange. It was peaceful as Cyrus sat on the chair beside Alia’s bed while the girl worked on so weird-looking formulas, probably a part of her healer curriculum.
"Princess, you should eat so fruits to heal faster," Miss Quinn walked towards the bed and looked at the King, who didn’t even look up from the papers in his hands.
Miss Quinn stood there, contemplating before she gave up and moved to the other side, hoping the princess would scoot towards her.
"Peel the apples and leave them on the table," Cyrus said after so ti.
Miss Quinn, who thought the King wanted the girl to work for her food herself, was about to say that she would slice the apple before going, but one glare from the King was enough for her to keep her mouth shut.
After peeling the apples, Miss Quinn left the couple alone, and King sighed.
Alia was about to grab the plate to slice the fruit herself when King Cyrus placed his hand on hers.
"I’ll do it," He said.
His words shocked not only Alia but even Fabian, sitting in the corner of the room.
Fabian- "..." Am I going to see my King’s first chance at softness after everything?
His gaze trembled slightly.
He focused on his King, ready to etch this scene deep into his mories so he could tell others about it and show them that his King was capable of caring for others, too.
However, before he could see anything, Cyrus turned to him briefly, a silent indication for him to leave them alone. Though Fabian wanted to stay and witness everything, he didn’t want to interrupt anything that might be building here, like his king’s care for his new bride.
Fabian left promptly, and Cyrus forced his gaze on the apple before he sat on the side of the bed. His large form made the bed look even smaller as Alia, still dazed about what was happening, gulped nervously.
Cyrus sliced the pieces before he extended his hand with the fork towards Alia.
Alia looked at the apple like it was sothing foreign, like sothing exquisite and out of the world.
It wasn’t just because she was shocked that the King was doing this for her.
But because she didn’t rember a ti when soone sat close to her and did sothing like this for her, and this King who claid to hate the healers was probably the first one who cared for her.
A lump ford in her throat, making her feel choked suddenly.
"It’s not poisoned," Cyrus said, and Alia’s eyes brimd with tears.
Cyrus, confused by her sudden change in emotions, was about to retreat his hand when Alia suddenly grabbed his hand to stop him.
She took the apple piece in her mouth, her form trembling before her shoulders started to shake. She wept silently, filled with emotions she did not know she was bottling.
"I am sorry. I didn’t want to cry like this and appear weak. It’s just..." Alia stuttered as she pulled her knees close to her chest and cried, placing her hand in front of her face to hide herself, not wanting to show the king her ugly self and look even weaker before him than she already looked.
Cyrus didn’t say anything. He just sat there, looking at her patiently before he extended his hand and removed her hand from in front of her face.
Alia looked up, her Hazel eyes moist with tears, her cheeks flushed, and her running nose making her look even cuter than she already was.
He wiped the stray tear that rolled down her cheeks before cupping her cheeks.
"You must’ve been scared," Cyrus said, his brows knitted as he felt sothing strange deep in his heart that he never felt.
He didn’t know what that was. Was that sympathy? Pity?
"I wasn’t scared. I just–" Alia wanted to explain herself so he wouldn’t think of her as a weakness, but Cyrus placed his finger on her lips before she could say anything.
"It won’t happen again," He said.
His words held a strange finality, and Alia’s heart trembled.
She knew what she was going to do might lead the King to throw her away because he hated healers, but at the mont, she felt like doing it.
Alia shuffled closer to the King without thinking twice before throwing herself onto him.
She locked her hands around his neck, stuffing her face in the crook of his neck as she sat on her knees, her heart drumming fast.
Cyrus froze in his place.
It was unexpected. It threw him off-guard entirely.
For the first ti, he didn’t know how to act or respond in a situation.
In his mind, he knew he hated this woman who was a product of those healers who deceived them, but in his heart, she was his bride, who was attacked today by his enemies and probably needed this comfort.
He wanted to throw her away, out of the window, for even daring to touch him without his permission, but he tried to place his hand on her head and tell her it was okay at the sa ti.
He felt contemplated, and he hated every second of it. And what he hated most was that his body didn’t feel repulsed by her sudden attack.
Yes. She was attacking him with her clinginess, tears, and cuteness.
Cyrus, unsure what to do, was about to push Alia away when the door burst open, and Fabian entered.
"Sir, your grandfather has asked for —" Fabian paused.
His eyes went wide at the scene before him, and he gulped.
"I... I am sorry," He rushed out like a teenage girl who saw a couple kissing.
His cheeks turned red in embarrassnt, and he gulped.
At the sa ti, Alia distanced herself from the King.
"Thank you for caring for , sothing even my family didn’t bother to do. I owe you my life and loyalty," Alia whispered.
Cyrus, who had thought about ten ways to berate and scold her, downed those words, his fists clenching before he stood from the bed and placed the plate of sliced apples in her lap.
"Enter," Cyrus said, and Fabian walked inside the room, looking between the Princess and his King with a flustered expression.
"Sir, your grandfather discovered the attack and wants to hold an urgent eting. He has summoned your uncle," Fabian said.
Cyrus nodded in understanding.
He turned to look at Alia, who sat and ate the apples, looking like an innocent rabbit, as if she wasn’t the one who had just tried to seduce him with that close and tight hug.
He scoffed in his head before he paused.
This reminds him...
"Who saved you?" Cyrus asked.
Alia froze at his words. Who saved her?
She rembered the voice of that man who had arrived with that scythe and held her close before telling her she belonged to him.
The unusual beating of her heart was a clear signal that she was nervous, making Cyrus even more skeptical.
He knew that man wasn’t Killian. Alia’s sll was completely different, and though it was faint because of the disinfectant in the hospital, when she hugged him just now, he could sll it.
The sll was powerful, like belonging to soone from the highest tiers, like a King or prince. And it didn’t seem like it belonged to a werewolf, either. It had werewolf traces, but they weren’t that strong.
As far as he knew, there wasn’t anyone like that at the university or close to that area.
What was more confusing was the way his wolf reacted to that sll. Rather than acting repulsed and angry, his wolf felt strangely comfortable with this sll, like it belonged to them.
"I don’t know. It was a strange man with a scythe," Alia said after so ti, and Cyrus humd.
"You should stay the night here and heal. I have to attend this eting. Goodnight," Cyrus said and left after Alia murmured a quiet goodnight.
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