Chapter 115: Warm
Troy did not add that Raphael looked relieved to be released but not for the reasons they thought. Freedom was something he did not care about. Being released from prison meant that Riven was back. For better or worse, he was at least safe. And Raphael was relieved.
He was a dog, a loyal one. Riven was his friend, he wanted to make sure he was safe. That was the only thing he asked Troy as he was getting released, "How is Riven?"
Before Troy left, Ronan asked him to inform the chef to prepare something light—preferably porridge or a gentle stew, nothing heavy on the stomach. Troy, sensing the unusual gentleness behind the command, nodded respectfully and disappeared down the hallway, his footsteps echoing in the vast mansion.
Ronan leaned back in his chair once Troy was gone. The candlelight flickered softly, casting long shadows across the stacks of parchment and unopened scrolls on his desk.
Normally, he’d have let the matters rest until morning, but with Riven under his roof now—his mate finally where he belonged—he wanted to ensure every last duty was attended to. He didn’t want to be disturbed the next day. He wanted time with Riven.
Time to learn each of his expressions, to listen to the subtle shifts in his tone, to memorize the scent that lingered in the air whenever he walked by.
He bent over the documents, redrafting old border agreements, reviewing recent patrol reports, and quietly issuing orders about reinforcing certain trade routes. His pack had been worried about his distractions lately, but Ronan could feel something different within himself now.
He wasn’t trying to please everyone anymore. He wasn’t bending to accommodate the elders’ traditions at the cost of his instincts. He wasn’t negotiating with doubt. He was the Alpha. And for the first time, he felt like it.
He was still in the middle of a report when a soft knock on the study door pulled him from his thoughts.
A familiar head peeked in. Riven’s black hair was tousled, his ears twitching slightly, eyes glowing faintly under the soft lighting. He looked far from sleepy—in fact, he looked refreshed, curious, and adorably pouty. Ronan’s lips tugged into a smile.
Riven blinked at him. "You’re still working?"