The Lycan's Stolen Bride

Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Chase Silverthorn woke slowly, blinking up at an unfamiliar ceiling, and for a long moment he simply lay still, waiting for the pain to hit the way it had every morning for the past three weeks.

It did not come.

Or rather, it came, but softer, a dull ache pulsing low in his side instead of the sharp, grinding burn that had kept him gritting his teeth through every waking hour since the attack. He drew in a slow breath, testing it, half expecting the familiar spike of agony to follow.

Nothing. Just the ache, distant and manageable, like a bruise healing rather than a wound actively tearing itself wider.

He sat up carefully, bracing for the worst, and when it did not come, he pressed a hand flat against his side, feeling the fabric of his shirt where the wound sat hidden beneath. It felt different. Warmer, somehow, though not with fever. Something had shifted overnight.

He tried to remember. There were only fragments, hazy and uncertain, the kind of half-formed memory that came from sleeping through something rather than experiencing it fully awake. Warmth, spreading through his side. A presence near the bed, close enough to touch, gone before he could place it. A faint golden light behind his closed eyelids, there and then not.

He frowned, running a hand back through his hair, trying to force the memory into something more solid. It refused to cooperate, slipping away every time he reached for it, the way dreams always did in the harsh light of morning.

Whatever had happened, he felt undeniably better than he had in weeks. That much was not a dream.

He dressed slowly, testing his range of motion as he did, pleasantly surprised to find he could move without the constant flare of pain that had followed him since he had left the Northern Isles. Whoever or whatever had helped him last night, he owed them a great deal.

Down the hall, a young maid moved briskly toward the servants' stairs, having spent most of the early morning hours turning over what she had seen the night before.

She had not told anyone yet. She had thought about it, standing frozen in the hallway with her arms full of linens, ready to rush off and report the strange golden light she had seen spilling from beneath the general's door. But halfway to finding someone to tell, a different thought had settled over her, one that made far more sense given everything she knew about important guests and how this house handled them.

She had heard the Madam's instructions plainly enough, delivered months ago during another visit from another important family. Whatever the guests ask of you, you provide it, without question, without hesitation. They are the ones who matter here. You are simply the help. Do you understand me?

She had seen it before too, guests calling for a maid late at night, doors closing quietly, staff emerging in the early hours looking rattled or exhausted, never speaking of it afterward because speaking of it accomplished nothing except trouble for themselves. It was simply how things worked when powerful men stayed under this roof, and she had learned long ago that questioning it only ever made her own life harder.

That must be what happened, she reasoned, slowing her steps as she thought it through. The general had likely requested company for the night, and one of the girls had gone to him, and the strange light she thought she saw was probably nothing more than candlelight catching oddly through the gap beneath the door. She had been tired. Her eyes had played tricks on her before.

It was not her business to ask further questions about a guest's private affairs. It never was.

So she said nothing to anyone, tucking the memory away and continuing with her morning tasks as though she had never seen anything at all.

Downstairs, the family gathered for a late breakfast, guests still lingering from the night before slowly filtering down to join them. Chase arrived last, moving with a lightness in his step that had not been there the previous evening, and Rowena's mother noticed it immediately, her sharp eyes catching every small detail the way she always did when something might be turned to her advantage.

"General Silverthorn," she said warmly, rising slightly from her seat as he approached the table. "You look remarkably well this morning. I do hope you slept comfortably."

"Better than I have in weeks, actually," Chase said, taking his seat, his voice steady in a way it had not been the night before. "I find myself in quite a bit less pain than when I arrived. I wanted to ask about that, actually. I believe someone came to me in the night. A healer, perhaps. I would like the chance to thank them properly, and to discuss compensating them further for their time, if they would be willing to continue treating me during my stay."