Serena still felt awful. Considering she'd been poisoned, that was generous. She felt like death kicked down a flight of stairs.
She tried to stand, but Dex wasn't having it. He scooped her up, carrying her out of the room with the broken bed and into one that didn't look like a war zone.
"I can walk," she muttered against his chest.
"You could barely lift a jar," he shot back, grinning.
That earned a reluctant laugh, soft and raspy, and his smile widened.
He set her down gently, like she was something precious, and pulled the covers around her.
He didn't move to leave.
Neither did Gavriel.
Serena blinked, eyes drooping. One of them adjusted the blanket; the other sat on the edge of the bed.
Sleep tugged her down before she registered that there were two grown wolves watching her like she was the last damn moonflower on the continent.
Dex had already mindlinked his colonels, captains, and the elders, delegating his responsibilities for the next week without ceremony. Orders were issued. Schedules shifted. No one argued. He wasn't going anywhere.
He didn't trust leaving Serena alone. More than that, he did not want to.
Being near her calmed something volatile inside him, a storm he had been carrying since the moment he laid eyes on her. He wanted her in sight at all times, within reach, and preferably touching.
Unknown to Serena, he had also already mindlinked omegas to move her belongings into his room. She did not have much and that realization irritated him more than it should have.
So he mindlinked again, reaching out to the seamstress who had fitted her dress, the one who knew her measurements by heart, and instructed her to prepare clothing. She'd been wearing training suits meant for warriors, but she deserved more.
Too much? Too soon? Too fast?
Too bad.
Dex was done fighting it.
Not listening to his instincts earned him a poisoned mate and a shattered bed.
He was done fucking around. She was under his care now, and she didn't get a say.
Serena lay unconscious with Dex and Gavriel flanking her like a pair of extremely tense, stupidly good-looking bookends, when Queen Bellatrix swept in.
Her entrance surprised everyone.
King Tiberon followed a step behind her, his eyes sharp with open skepticism.
Bellatrix held a bouquet of flowers.
That alone was enough to make the room go unnaturally still.
It was the most un-Bellatrix thing imaginable. So wrong it drew every gaze like a snapped thread.
"Poor dear," Bellatrix said sweetly, her voice smooth. She turned her attention to Alaric. "Are you certain it wasn't the flu? Or some little bug?" Her lips curved faintly. "Perhaps she caught something from one of the beds she warms."
Alaric did not blink. "It was poison." His tone was calm and clinical.
Dex's jaw snapped tight.
"She does not warm anyone's bed," he said, not bothering to hide his agitation. "Spare us the bullshit and stop insulting her."
His gaze slid to Bellatrix, unhurried, assessing.
"And considering you are the one who poisoned her," he continued, "I am struggling to understand why you are here at all."
The air went taut, like a drawn bowstring.
Bellatrix gasped softly, one hand flying to her chest, shock painted on with expert precision. "Has she poisoned your mind with these lies?" she asked, wounded disbelief dripping from every syllable. "I was nowhere near her when the incident occurred."
As she spoke, she set the bouquet into a vase on the nightstand beside the bed.
Fine pollen shook loose, drifting lazily into the air. It caught the sunlight in thin, glimmering threads. Dex's gaze snagged on it immediately. Something about it felt wrong.
Surely she would not poison all of them.
No, that would be crazy, even for Bellatrix.
Elara's eyes widened. "Is that Nightvein Lily?"
"I'm not sure," Bellatrix said lightly, turning to Elara with a pleasant, friendly smile. "I'm terrible with plant names."
It was unnerving. Bellatrix was nothing if not precise. There was no chance she did not know exactly what she had brought.
Serena's eyes flew open a heartbeat later.
She inhaled sharply, her breath catching wrong, then started coughing, her windpipe tightening as panic clawed up her throat.
Dex felt it instantly through the matebond, sharp and terrifying.
Her gaze locked onto the flowers, and her eyes widened in recognition.
Alaric was already in motion, eyes sharp as flint, hands steady. Without needing to ask, he had the syringe in Serena's arm within seconds, delivering the shot to stop the allergic reaction.
Her breathing eased, gradually, painfully.
"Antidote and epipen in twenty-four hours," he muttered, checking her vitals with clinical precision. "On top of silver poisoning. I swear to the gods."
The rest of the room moved carefully, following Dex and Alaric into the next chamber like a procession of very tense nobles trying not to step on a landmine. Everyone instinctively checked their clothes for pollen. No one spoke.
King Tiberon lingered behind, watching Bellatrix.
She rolled her eyes and shrugged like she'd been accused of bringing spoiled wine. "Oh, come off it. Only a buffoon would do that on purpose. I'm not an idiot," she said breezily.
Then, louder—too loud—as the door began to close, she called down the hall.
"Alaric, do make sure she eats more. Half the castle calls her Skeletor instead of Serena behind her back. Thought you should be made aware. Among other colorful words: breeding stock, harlot, rat, bedwench, grotesque… but I probably don't need to tell you the list."
The door clicked shut.
Elara snorted. "Skeletor was a new one yesterday. The first thing Agnes called her."
"If you play your cards right," Gavriel said with a shrug, "that could replace slut."
Dex, torn between murder and hysteria, launched a pillow at him hard enough to knock a lesser man unconscious.
It bounced off Gavriel's face.
"What?"
✦✦✦
Another day slipped by, most of it lost to sleep. Serena drifted in and out until Dex finally forced himself to leave long enough to freshen up and change.
While he was gone, Elara took over, arriving with a fresh silk camisole, shorts, and matching robe.
She helped Serena wash, slow and careful, mindful of every sore place, then guided her back into bed and arranged the pillows just right.
"Hale cares for you and will want you to be his mate," Serena murmured, like she was commenting on the weather. "Forgot to tell you my thoughts."
Elara turned beet red. "Oh. That. Right. I… forgot to tell you Hale moved all my things into his quarters after the ball."
Serena blinked. "Wait—what?"
Elara nodded, exasperated. "Half his closet is full of clothes for me. Including what you're wearing."
Serena clapped her hands once, delighted. "Oh my gods. He's nesting. You're his emotional support omega."
"He didn't even tell me until I tried to go back to my room," Elara added, grinning despite herself. "He also casually mentioned we're fated mates."
Serena snorted. "Shocking. As if you hadn't noticed."
"We haven't done more than kiss and cuddle," Elara blurted. "I can't tell if he's shy or just as lost as I am."
Serena deadpanned, "What do you mean? We're whores, remember. That's how we got into this pack."
"You minx," Elara said, hurling a pillow at her. Then she sat up abruptly. "Speaking of… which one are you interested in?"
"Dex told me we're fated mates," Serena whispered, even though they were alone. "He didn't approach me sooner because he was still publicly tied to Agnes."
Elara's eyes widened, then she sighed. "Gavriel is going to be disappointed. You wore his dress. You were basically his date. He carried you here."
Serena's stomach dropped as it hit her. He'd been so caring toward her, and the guilt cut sharper than she expected, considering how little time they'd actually spent here.
She had found Gavriel attractive. Bold. Ridiculously so. He made her laugh, and their banter had flowed without effort.
If Dex hadn't told her about their fated bond, she knew the truth.
She would have continued with Gavriel and chosen him.
"Please tell me Gav is like that with everyone," Serena said, staring at the ceiling. "Because I am running out of emotional bandwidth."
Elara winced. "No."
Serena turned her head slowly. "No?"
"Hale swears you're the only woman he's ever acted like that with," Elara said. "And apparently… he's not usually that forward. Ever."
Serena groaned and fell back onto her pillow. "Fantastic," she muttered. "Just excellent."
"You didn't know," Elara said gently.
Serena covered her face with her hands. "He grew on me."
"Me too," Elara said softly. "But maybe Dexmon will too."
✦✦✦
The next time she woke, the moon was up, and Dex's arms were around her.
Their legs were intertwined and her back was against his chest like it belonged there. Like she was made for him. Because she was.
His shirt was off and his skin touched hers.
She blinked, disoriented and his arms tightened around her.
"You're awake," he said, kissing her ear.
Heat crept into her face, but she liked it and he knew she did. He could feel it.
Everything his instincts told him to do had been right so far, so he wasn't holding back.
"Where are we?" she asked, sliding her hand over his, intertwining their fingers.