Moonbound: The Rogue's Second Chance

Darius pushed his hair back and his laugh faded into nothing, Serena had finished the meal before her but a nudging feeling still bothered Darius. That gnash in her thigh was not something to sneeze. He perched on his desk awkwardly and looked at the woman. Soon enough, he found himself clearing his throat to get her attention, she looked at him with a raised brow like she was about to ask if he had a bone wedged in his throat.

"Your wound..." he began slowly. "At least let the resident healer look at it."

He watched the rise and fail of her shoulders warily, he did not miss the way she interlaced her finger and squeezed her hands tightly together. "It is not necessary, I am fine. I can take care of myself."

Darius expelled a stream of air from his nose and nodded slowly. "I know and I trust you but-"

Serena waved a dismissive hand in front of him, halting his words. "Please, we had already argued about this."

Silence filled the room and Darius shifted on his chair slightly. "Very well, I apologise."

He, himself interlaced his fingers and looked from her to the empty tray before her, he did not want to someone to come interrupt them for the mere issue of clearing up, that could be done later.

"When do you want to see the Delegate," he said finally.

"I had written him a letter but no time was given. I expect him to send a letter addressed to me," she said, placing her hands on her skirt.

Serena’s hands remained on her skirt, smoothing out the fabric though there were no wrinkles to be found. Darius regarded her carefully, one leg drawn up against the edge of his desk.

"You sent the letter already?" he asked after a long silence, his voice even but carrying the weight of something unspoken.

"Yes," she said, her tone steady. "It was the proper thing to do."

Darius nodded slowly, as though trying to tame something restless in himself. "I do not disagree." His fingers drummed lightly against the polished wood, and then he stilled them. "Yet I must admit, I would have preferred to know before it was sent."

Serena’s brows lifted, and for a moment her lips curved in something that was not quite a smile. "So you could smoother the matter entirely?"

He straightened, the line of his jaw hardening. "So that I might prepare for it. I am the Alpha of Ironshade. Everything that crosses our borders, every word we exchange with another pack, falls beneath my charge. Do you imagine I can act as though this is merely another afternoon diversion?"

Serena pressed her lips together, her spine stiffening. The sharpness in his voice had not been cruel, but it carried enough force to strike the quiet between them.

"I do not imagine anything," she said at last, softer than before. "I simply thought it right to take action, instead of waiting idly."

Darius took in her words, his frown deepening. He did not immediately reply, as though weighing whether to speak further. Then his shoulders eased slightly, though that lilt never quite left his voice. "It is not idleness to consider our next step, Serena. This Delegate is not merely a guest who comes to take tea and offer polite words. He comes to judge whether Ironshade may be trusted again."

She flinched faintly at that, not from fear but from the truth it held. "And what am I meant to do?"

"Carry me along," he said simply. "That is all I ask of you. Tell me before you act, so I may stand with you, instead of finding I must catch up to you after the fact."

Her breath left her in a quiet rush, and for a moment she did not look at him. She knew he was right, though knowing did little to soften the tightness in her chest. She had not been in the mood to be questioned, least of all by him, yet here they were.

"You speak as though you must have the final word in every matter," she said, her tone more tired than accusatory.

"I am Alpha," he said, not unkindly but with a certainty that filled the space between them. "In this hall, I am the end and the beginning of what is done."

The words struck her with an unexpected echo. Her mind went unbidden to Oakspire Haven, to the memory of him telling her she would not linger there long, that he would see to it she left soon enough. She remembered how he had said it the unmovable, resolute, as though no power beneath the sky could oppose him.

Yet now, looking at him, she did not feel quite the same sting she once had.

"You told me once that I would leave soon," she said after a moment, her voice quiet but not sharp.

He looked at her steadily, understanding dawning in his eyes. "And here you remain," he said.

"Yes."

Silence fell again, but it was not the brittle silence of anger, rather, something that felt like the slow shifting of ground beneath them.

Darius drew in a long breath and let it out through his nose. "Perhaps I am still learning how to temper myself," he said finally.

Serena’s mouth twitched faintly, though she did not quite smile. "Perhaps."

For a time, neither spoke. The papers on the desk fluttered, and somewhere beyond the window a raven cawed.

When Darius finally moved again, it was to settle more fully into his chair and fold his hands atop the desk. "You do not have to fight this fight alone," he said, his voice quieter now. "Whatever it is you bear on your shoulders, allow me to share some of its weight."

Serena looked at him then, properly this time, and found no demand in his gaze, only earnestness. It unsettled her more than his earlier temper had.

"I will try," she said at last, and this time her words did not sound reluctant, but rather as though she had decided something for herself.

Darius gave a short nod, the tension in his frame easing by degrees. "Then we will wait for the Delegate’s reply together."

The thought of it still left her uneasy, but she found she could breathe more easily with him saying it so plainly.

He stood then, reaching for the empty tray. "I will have this sent away. And next time, I will insist on seeing that leg seen to, whether you permit it or not."

Serena gave him a look that was more amused than irritated. "You are persistent."

"I am thorough," he countered, his mouth curving faintly as he gathered up the tray.

She watched him a moment longer, and for the first time since leaving the sparring grounds, the pressure in her chest eased. The conversation had not been easy, but neither had it ended as she feared. Perhaps there was room yet to find common ground with him, if she allowed it.