He'd never thought breakfast could take up so much space.
The table was covered—soups, fruits, warm bread, even pastries from the capital that he hadn't eaten in years. He watched the servants set everything down, one by one, until Diana's eyes widened like she'd never seen food before.
"All this… for me?" she asked, her voice soft, uncertain.
He gave a short nod. "You need to eat well. For both of you."
The words came out steadier than he expected. Both of you. The sound of it did something strange to him.
She hesitated. "But it's too much. I can't eat all this."
He raised an eyebrow. "Then I'll help you."
When he sat beside her and sliced the fruit, her eyes followed the motion — curious, cautious. He wasn't sure why he did it. He'd never served anyone before. But the idea of her skipping a meal irritated him more than it should have.
Her lips curved in a faint smile. Peaceful. That was rare here.
Then came the voice he least wanted to hear.
"Well, well, cousin," Mira drawled from the doorway. "If this isn't a sight worth painting. You — cutting fruit for a female?"
He didn't look up. "Don't you have better things to do?"
She sauntered closer, grinning. "Apparently not. You're practically glowing. Look at you — 'eat this, rest more, don't walk too far.' You sound like a nursemaid."
Diana tried to hide a small laugh. He noticed.
He glared at Mira. "Go. Away."
Mira chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "You know, when I heard you found a female, I thought she'd end up locked away like the others. But you—" she gestured between them "—you're different. You even ordered extra desserts. Gods, are you spoiling her?"
He took a slow breath, forcing calm into his voice. "She's carrying my child. I'm making sure she's cared for."
"Cared for," Mira echoed, grinning wider. "Right. That's what we're calling it now."
He finally looked up, meeting his cousin's smug eyes. "If you say another word, I'll make sure you're sent to inspect the borderlands again."
Mira gasped in mock horror. "Threats now? Fine, fine. I'll leave you to your little domestic fantasy."
She winked at Diana on her way out. "Good luck taming this one. He's worse than a beast when he's protective."
When the door finally shut, silence settled again. Diana still looked amused, her eyes warm.
He turned away, muttering, "Ignore her. She talks too much."
But as he caught Diana's quiet smile, a strange, unfamiliar warmth coiled in his chest.
Maybe Mira wasn't entirely wrong.
He wasn't sure why he'd decided to take her for a walk.
Maybe it was the way she'd been staring out the window all morning — like a caged bird pretending not to miss the sky. Or maybe it was the soft color returning to her cheeks after days of rest.
Either way, the idea of her walking anywhere alone was unthinkable.
"Stay close," he said for the fifth time as they stepped out into the sunlit garden.
Diana laughed softly. "There's no one here but your guards."
"That's exactly the problem," he replied, scanning the area. "They're terrible at hiding. Look—one of them just sneezed."
She followed his gaze toward a bush, where a tail twitched and a muffled achoo betrayed the feline guard's presence. She covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.
"You really think someone will attack us here?" she asked.
He frowned. "You're pregnant. I'm not taking chances."
"Then maybe I should just live in a bubble," she teased.
He stopped, giving her a look that was meant to be serious—but the corner of his mouth betrayed him, twitching upward. "Don't tempt me. I could order one made by tonight."
She giggled, and for a brief moment, the sound made the entire estate feel alive again.
They continued walking until they reached the pond at the edge of the property, where lilies floated lazily across the surface. The air smelled of earth and flowers. Diana knelt slightly, admiring the water.
"Careful," he warned immediately, stepping closer. "The stones are slippery."
"I'm fine," she said, steadying herself.
Of course, in the next moment, her foot slipped on the wet edge—and before she could fall, he lunged forward, catching her in his arms.
The momentum carried them both down, landing in a splash of cold water.
Silence.
Then—laughter.
Her laughter burst out bright and uncontrollable, echoing over the pond. He blinked, water dripping from his hair, trying to look annoyed, but failing.
"You call that fine?" he muttered.
"You were the one who made me nervous," she teased, still laughing.
He wiped water from her cheek with his thumb, shaking his head. "Unbelievable. The first time I try to do something relaxing, we nearly drown."
She grinned. "It's a memory now."
He found himself smiling too—really smiling—for the first time in what felt like years.
When she leaned her head lightly against his shoulder, something deep in his chest stirred.
Maybe it was the way she laughed, or the way she looked at him like he was more than a master or protector.
Whatever it was, he didn't want it to end.
"Next time," he said quietly, "we walk on dry ground only."
She looked up, mischief in her eyes. "Next time, I'll make you fall first."
He chuckled, tightening his arm around her. "Not a chance."
They walked back to the villa drenched, water dripping from their clothes and laughter still clinging to the air between them. For a few precious moments, the world outside didn't matter — not the family, not the rules, not the weight of expectations.
But the warmth vanished the moment they stepped inside.
Standing in the grand entryway, hands clasped behind his back, was his father. The elder man's sharp golden eyes swept over them — first the soaked clothes, then the way his son's hand still rested protectively on Diana's shoulder.
The silence was suffocating.
"Have you completely lost your senses?" his father's voice boomed, echoing against the marble walls. "You parade around like a fool, drenched and laughing — with her? In front of the staff?"
He straightened, his jaw tightening. "We went for a walk. She slipped. That's all."
His father's lip curled. "That's not all. You've forgotten your place, and hers. She's a female from the sanctuary, meant for breeding, not for—"
"Enough."
The word came out low but firm, stopping the older man mid-sentence.
For a heartbeat, the air stilled. The guards near the doorway tensed, eyes flicking between father and son.
He took a step forward, standing tall. "She's carrying my child. She deserves respect — not because of where she came from, but because she's mine. And maybe… maybe it's time we stop treating females like tools."
His father's eyes widened, disbelief etched into every line of his face. "You dare question the order that's held our kind together for centuries?"
"Maybe it's time it changes," he said quietly, but there was steel in his tone. "If our world is built on chains and fear, then what kind of legacy are we leaving for the next generation?"
The older man's claws flexed — just for a second — before he forced them back. The sharp flash of his beastly instinct betrayed his rising anger.
"You're blinded by emotion," his father hissed. "That's not leadership. That's weakness."
He took Diana's hand, steady but defiant. "Then maybe weakness is what this world needs. A reminder that power doesn't always come from control."
For a long, tense moment, the two men simply stared at each other — two generations of strength, pride, and fire, standing on opposite sides of a line that had never before been crossed.
Finally, his father's gaze shifted to Diana. She lowered her eyes, but he felt her hand tighten slightly around his.
"So," the elder said, his tone cold but measured, "you've chosen your side."
He didn't hesitate. "I have."
His father exhaled through his nose, then turned sharply on his heel. "Then live with it. But don't expect the old world to bend easily."
As his footsteps faded, the hall felt colder — but also freer.
He turned to Diana, brushing a wet strand of hair from her face. "Sorry you had to see that."
She shook her head softly. "No. I'm glad I did."
He looked down at her, realizing that somewhere between laughter and defiance, something inside him had shifted too.
He wasn't just protecting her anymore.
He was protecting a future he hadn't even dared to imagine before.