Betrayed

☾Chapter Forty-One☽

Unknown P.O.V

"Why aren't you eating your steak?" I ask tauntingly as I cut into my own.

The red-head grimaces. "My stomach is... disoriented," She whispers, her hand coming up to run through her tangled, frizzy hair.

I laugh. "I would imagine so! You're lucky, though. You had a preservation spell casted upon your corpse. Technically, Sweetheart, you're supposed to be a pile of dust and bones," I tell her.

She swallows harshly and rubs her arms. "I'm so confused. I don't remember anything except coldness," She whispers once again, her brown eyes finding mine. "Where am I? What happened?" She asks frantically.

Another laugh escapes me, but it's cold and low this time. "Oh, Saffron, don't you remember? You died in childbirth, leaving my petty son with a broken heart, a daughter, and a queen-less kingdom."

••

Vladimira's P.O.V

With it being eight o'clock at night, Aaron and I are wide awake. Instead of staying in the nursery and trying to rock us both to sleep, I end up in my father's office.

Aaron's little body is sprawled out on a fluffy blanket one of the pack members got him, and his little fists are flailing about.

Glancing at my father, I catch him staring down at the papers on his desk with confusion in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" I ask as I readjust the cardigan that's blocking my body from the cold air.

He shakes his head as if he's coming back from another realm. "Something's... off," He mutters.

I furrow my eyebrow. "Within the kingdom?" I ask.

That's how he finds out about most problems within the kingdom. A small tug of distress within a pack's link will set off Xavier which results in him telling his human.

Few things get past them.

He shakes his head. "No, something within me. I don't know what it is..." He trails off.

Aaron's coos draw my father's eyes to him. "Can I hold him?" He asks as he stands up.

Nodding, I stand up with my son in my arms. "Yeah. Maybe you can put him to sleep."

I back away slowly after Aaron's in my father's arms.

The two of them seem content with one another.

A memory from my failed abortion hits me, and before I know it, I'm crying silently as I look at my little angel in his grandfather's arms.

Before I can dry my tears, my father's sitting beside me, his blue eyes assessing me. "What's wrong?"

My hand comes up to caress Aaron's cheek. "I was going to abort him," I whisper, "and I am so happy I didn't."

A deep frown settles on my father's face. "I should apologize. I was advocating that you get one while simultaneously not caring about your emotions or wellbeing ." He kisses me on the forehead while wrapping his arms around me slowly, gently.

Before I know it, I'm asleep in his arms, my face buried in his shirt. I dream of Titus.

His strong jawline, his grey eyes, his muscular physique, his dark brown hair, his large hands that have touched my naked body, his lips that have kissed over my body.