“I wasn’t trying to be found.”
He nearly smiled at that, and he might have, if her voice hadn’t been so quiet. Not just tired in body, but in spirit. The kind of weariness that couldn’t be cured with rest.
Alexander stepped close enough that he could see the slight smudge of soil on her thumb and the tension in her shoulders beneath the velvet cloak.
“It’s nighttime and you’re still working,” he said, noting the small pouch of cuttings tucked beside her knee.
“I needed something to occupy my hands,” she replied. “The kitchen needs more herbs for the braided loaves, also for the garlands. It seems sensible to salvage these before frost gets to them.”
He nodded. The practicality of it, ofher, didn’t surprise him. She wasn’t someone who spent time on unproductive moments. Even resting was to serve function.
He shifted his weight, boots crunching over loose rocks. “You left supper early.”
She didn’t look up. “I wasn’t hungry.”
“Did the incident with Annett cause this lack of appetite?”
That made her glance at him. He crouched beside her, mirroring her posture, though not quite touching. The night air nipped his skin, but she emanated heat. There was alsosomething more intrinsic. It hit low, just beneath the sternum. A creeping pull.
Her scent.
He’d caught a whiff of it from time to time. When he helped her mount Brisa. When the breeze blew just right. When they passed in the corridor. But now, kneeling this close, it found him with the precision of an arrow. The Omega in her was rising, unmasked. Warmth and salt and something ripe at the edges, like sun-warmed apricot and deep earth. Something his blood recognized even if his mind tried to ignore it.
He inhaled, deeply, then forced his lungs to still.
Her suppressants were gone. Her body was returning to its natural rhythm, and that rhythm was leading toward Heat.Soon.
The awareness gathered in his chest like a storm. She smelled like a question his body was screaming to answer. He was her husband. Her Alpha. The tension of that reality—the legal right, the emotional chasm—tautened every muscle.
He ground his jaw.Not now.Not when she looked so weary, haunted by a healer’s failure she hadn’t earned. An Alpha’s first role wasn’t to claim. It was toprotect. To give her space, even if every primal part of him strained toward her.
He spoke evenly, “You’re running warm.”
She glanced at him. “The fire,” she said quickly. “I sat too close to it at supper. It’s why I came out here.”
He didn’t correct her, didn’t challenge the lie. But the truth was already between them, growing louder every second.
He reached out and took her hand to help her rise. His fingers curled around hers, not letting go.
“Annett’s condition,” he said. “Tell me more.”
JingYi stepped away, as though she needed space to think. She folded her arms—the brace of someone who’d begun holding herself together out of necessity.
“I found bruises where I placed the needles.”
“Is that a common side effect?”
“It’s notuncommon. Sometimes, when a needle isn’t inserted properly, bruising can occur. But the ones Annett suffered from were not like that.” She shifted her gaze to look at him. “The colour . . . wasn’t unlike the corpse.”
Alexander frowned. “Purple limyerite poisoning? Again? From the needles?”
“I considered the possibility of someone tampering with my needles.”
“Did you check your tools?”
“I cleaned them as soon as I finished. Any traces of tampering would’ve been wiped away.”
Uneasiness crept in. “Before that?”
