The next day was worse for wear. If yesterday’s soreness had been a warning, today was death itself.
I couldn’t get up. My body had betrayed me completely, every muscle seized, every joint stiff, my skin mottled with black and blue bruises that bloomed like dark flowers across my hips, my thighs, my arms. I stared at the ceiling, counting the wooden beams, trying to find the strength to roll over, and failing.
The looks I was getting from my mates were enough to make me want to burrow into the furs and never emerge. Ravin’s eyes held murderous guilt, Leon’s jaw was clenched tight enough to crack stone, Soryn’s serpent eyes tracked my every wince with predatory assessment, and Caelion... Caelion looked like he might cry.
But worse than all of them was Veylan.
He looked at me like I was the dead walking. His silver skin had gone pale, almost translucent, dark circles beneath his eyes suggesting he hadn’t slept. He couldn’t meet my gaze, his head ducking every time I shifted, every time I breathed too sharply. And every time our eyes met, every time he accidentally glimpsed a bruise or heard me whimper, he was there, whispering apologies, his voice cracking, his hands trembling.
"I’m so sorry," he would say, the same words, over and over, like a prayer, like a curse.
My neck was stiff, locked in place from where he had gripped me, where he had bitten down. Between my legs... I didn’t want to think about between my legs. The ache there was constant, throbbing, a reminder of his invasion that made me flush with embarrassment and something darker, more complicated.
Ravin insisted on applying salve. I protested, my face burning, but he was gentle, so gentle, his large hands careful as he lifted the sheet, as he spread the cool ointment over my bruised hips, my tender thighs. When he reached the most intimate places, I turned my face away, tears leaking from my eyes, not from pain but from mortification.
"Krys," he whispered, his voice breaking. "My heart hurts so bad that you are in pain."
I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t bear the anguish in his golden eyes.
Leon made soup, thick and nourishing, and he spoon-fed me like a child, his tenderness that made my throat tight. Soryn and Caelion took the cubs outside, their laughter and chatter distant, muffled, though I could hear the occasional cry, the fussing, the demands for Mama that Soryn and Caelion answered with infinite patience.
Veylan stood in the corner, useless, frozen, until Soryn finally snarled and locked him outside, his serpent form bristling with protective aggression.
"Soryn," I called weakly, and Ravin appeared at my side. "Can you tell Soryn to be nice? It really wasn’t Veylan’s fault. He was under the moonrut sap toxin. He wasn’t in his right mind so be more understanding." I swallowed, my throat dry. "And tell Veylan he can go help the village with whatever they need for now. He needs purpose. He needs to stop staring at me like I’m broken."
Ravin nodded, his hand smoothing hair from my forehead. "Alright. Get some rest today. We’ll handle everything."
After he left, I lay there, staring at the ceiling, and the thoughts came, unwelcome, relentless.
This situation was a brutal reminder of how different I was from them. My strength was nothing compared to theirs. Even the female beasts, the lionesses and she-wolves, they were stronger than me, hardier, built to take rough handling and give as good as they got. But me? One night. One night of sex with a beast who had momentarily lost his reason, who had used only his beast instinct, his animal drive, and I was incapacitated. Broken. Laid low by passion that would have been merely intense for one of their females but was devastating for me.
Leon returned, his presence warm and solid, and he spoon-fed me more soup, his fingers gentle on my chin. Then he massaged me, his hands finding knots I didn’t know I had, easing the tension from my shoulders, my back, my legs.
Soryn and Caelion were godsends with the cubs. I could hear them crying, demanding, testing patience I didn’t possess today, but my serpent and my merman handled it with grace, with love, with a patience that humbled me.
Later, I heard Ravin and Veylan leave, their footsteps heading toward the village center. Ravin hadn’t wanted to go. I had heard him arguing with Leon, his voice low and fierce, insisting he needed to stay, to protect me, to watch over me. But Leon had reminded him, gently, that he was the future king. The village needed him. And I needed him to be the leader I knew he could be.
So he went, with Veylan at his side, two warriors throwing themselves into labor to forget, to atone, to rebuild what had been broken.
And I lay in bed, small and human and fragile, and I slept.
---
I awoke to the sound of hissing and raised voices, my heart hammering against my ribs before my eyes could fully open. I slowly climb out of the bed and peak through the doorway to outside.
Soryn had Veylan by the throat, his serpent eyes slitted to dangerous points, his fangs bared and dripping venom that sizzled against the floorboards. "Look at her!" he snarled, his voice inhuman, terrifying. "She looks like a corpse laying there! You did that to her!"
Veylan didn’t fight back. He stood there, limp, his silver hair hanging over his face, his expression utterly defeated, utterly apologetic. He made no move to defend himself, no attempt to break free. He just accepted the condemnation, the punishment he believed he deserved.
Leon stepped forward, his claws extended, his own fury barely contained. "She can’t even give her cubs company," he growled, gesturing toward the corner where the four small ones played, oblivious, watched over by Caelion. "She’s in so much pain she can barely lift her arms to hold them. Is that what you wanted? Is that your idea of mating?"
"Enough." Ravin’s voice cracked like thunder, his massive form inserting itself between the aggressors and the broken wolf. "He was under the moonrut toxin. He wasn’t himself. You know this. Krys asked us to understand, asked us not to blame him. So let’s not upset her further with this... this posturing."
"I just don’t like seeing her like that," Caelion said softly, his voice thick with emotion, filled with helpless anguish. "Like broken glass. Like something precious that was shattered."
I made my way outside on unsteady legs, my sheet wrapped tight around my bruised form.
They saw me. All of them. Five pairs of eyes snapping to my presence, five males frozen in various states of aggression and guilt.
"I love you guys," I said, my voice rough from sleep and pain. "But if you wanted me to actually sleep, you should have been a bit quieter with the attempted murder."
Soryn released Veylan instantly, the wolf stumbling back, gasping, his hand going to his throat. my serpent mate was at my side in an instant, his cold hands gentle as they steadied me. "Come, sit," he urged, his voice soft now, worried. "Don’t stand. You’re not ready."
He guided me to the wooden chair, sturdy and smooth, positioned in a patch of morning sunlight. I lowered myself carefully, wincing despite my best efforts to hide it, my face flushing with embarrassment as I felt their eyes cataloging every wince, every tremor, every mark.
I didn’t have to say anything. They could see. The bruises like ink on my wrists, the bite marks on my neck, the way I favored my left hip, the careful way I sat to avoid pressure on my most tender places.
Soryn turned back to Veylan, his glare murderous, his protectiveness a palpable force.
I sighed, long and suffering, the sound carrying the weight of a woman who had reached her limit. "Tomorrow," I announced, my voice firm despite my weakness, "we need to make another room for Veylan. He will be living here with us. He is my mate now, bound by blood and magic, whether any of us planned it or not."
I looked at each of them in turn; Ravin with his guilt, which was preposterous since I made the decision he just went along with it so him feeling guilty was outrageous to me. But I’m not going to question whatever he’s feeling. Then there’s Leon with his rage, Soryn with his protectiveness, Caelion with his sorrow, and Veylan with his devastation.
"So please," I finished, my eyes finding Soryn’s, holding them until he looked away. "Get along. Or at least pretend to, for my sake. I cannot handle a war in my own home while I’m still recovering from last night."
The silence stretched, heavy and tense, but slowly, one by one, they nodded. Even Soryn. Even Veylan.
---
They started on Veylan’s room the very next morning, while I was still confined to bed by Ravin’s strict orders. I could hear them through the walls, the sound of hammers and saws, the grunts of labor, the occasional sharp exchange of words.
Soryn worked alongside Veylan, his serpent eyes still narrowed with residual anger, his movements stiff and formal. But as the hours passed, as they measured and cut and raised the walls together, I heard the tension ease. Soryn was the first to soften, his hissing accusations giving way to gruff instructions, then to silence, then to the occasional grunt of approval when Veylan’s work proved true.
I learned later that it was Caelion who bridged the gap, bringing them water, commenting on their progress, his gentle presence forcing civility. By afternoon, Soryn had accepted the truth that Veylan had not acted with malice, that he had been a victim as much as I had, his mind stolen by toxins beyond his control.
Leon let go of his rage more slowly, his lion pride wounded by the sight of my bruises. But he redirected that energy into care, into service, into making me soup and massaging my shoulders and watching over me with a devotion that spoke louder than his earlier threats. He focused on taking care of me, and in doing so, found peace.
The cubs, denied their mother by well-meaning protectors, staged a rebellion. They got past Caelion’s gentle barriers, squeezed around Soryn’s coiled tail, darted between Leon’s legs until they reached me, climbing onto the bed with chirps of triumph, nuzzling against my bruised body with determined affection. I wept then, holding them, feeling their small hearts beating against mine, knowing I was healing because they needed me to.
The next couple of days, I was treated like a princess with a mysterious ailment, or perhaps a handicap princess, with all five of my mates fussing over me with varying degrees of competence and intensity.
Ravin was the worst, or the best, depending on perspective. He carried me to the privy, carried me back, refused to let me lift so much as a spoon. Leon brought me food constantly, more than I could eat, watching with satisfaction as I nibbled. Because I couldn’t do any rotations because of my pain, my worried mates decided to rotate themselves, to come and sleep in the room with me and the cubs. Soryn tail curled around my feet at night as he hold me close, his cool scales a comfort against the summer heat. Caelion sang to me, old merman songs that made the water in my cup ripple, his voice haunting and beautiful that put me to sleep very fast. Ravin would hold me his massive frame always made me feel so protective and safe, and Leon always cuddle up to me, seeking to burrow into my chest as he hugs me to sleep.
And Veylan, awkward Veylan with his silver eyes and his crushing guilt didn’t join in the rotations but still found his own way to care.
He asked constantly if I needed anything, appearing at my elbow with water, with cloths, with offers to adjust my position that made him blush furiously when he realized what he was implying. He hunted without being asked, returning with rabbits and birds that he cleaned with precise, efficient movements, presenting them to me like offerings at a shrine. He found me fruits, sweet wild berries and a fruit similar to apples, arranging them in patterns on a wooden plate as if their beauty could somehow make up for my pain.
He fluffed my pillows obsessively, patting and smoothing and rearranging until I had to gently take his hands and make him stop. He tried to give me easier rest, building a contraption of wood and soft furs that elevated my legs, that supported my back, his clever fingers working with desperate purpose.
"I am well," I told him finally, on the third day, catching his hands as he reached to adjust my blanket for the hundredth time. "Veylan, look at me."
He did, his eyes wet, his jaw tight with emotion.
"I forgive you," I said softly. "I forgave you the moment it ended. You were not yourself. You were poisoned. I do not blame you."
He broke then, the tension leaving his shoulders, his head falling to rest against our joined hands. "I will spend my life," he whispered, his voice rough, "making sure you never regret saving it."
I smiled, my fingers threading through his silver hair. "Then build me a life worth living, Snow Prince. Build it with us."
He nodded, still trembling, and went back to his work with renewed purpose, building not just a room, but a home, a place, and hopefully a brighter future.