—-----

"No more talk of the true bearer," Althea said softly, keeping her voice gentle but firm as her eyes swept over everyone seated at the table. "Not tonight, at least. We came here to share a meal, to find even a sliver of peace together– like we always used to. When was the last time we all had dinner together? Let's aside the burden of what's ahead. Just for tonight. Can we do that?"

A heavy silence followed, thick with unspoken doubt and lingering tension. No one said a word and merely exchanged glances, their unease hanging in the air like smoke. Althea could feel it creeping in, and it threatened to unravel the fragile calm she was trying to preserve.

With a frustrated sigh, she glanced toward the staircase and immediately moved to intercept Esme, who was descending slowly to join them.

Without waiting for pleasantries, Althea pointed toward the table, already halfway into her complaint.

"Can you talk some sense into them?" She pleaded, her voice pitched low but urgent. "They won't stop worrying about the whole alliance falling apart. I told them tonight was meant to be different. I want us to just sit down and eat without fear swallowing every word. Just one night where we pretend things are okay. Is that really too much to ask for from everyone?"

Esme blinked, caught off-guard by the outburst, but the earnestness in Althea's face softened her expression. She held Althea gently by the arm and brought her down along with her, but before she could say anything, Revana had lifted her goblet high, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade wrapped in velvet.

"Cheers to a good-ol'-fashioned dinner," she declared, urging the rest to lift their goblets. "Come on, let's give our exhausted ghosts the night off."

"I guess everyone has complied," Esme uttered, glancing at Althea who beamed as everyone lifted their goblet in a unified toast. With a proud smile, she handed a goblet to Esme as well, and the entire group made a toast into the night.

Later, after the dishes on the table had been cleared and the warmth of wine had settled deep into their bones, Donovan slumped forward, resting his head lazily on the polished wooden table. Esme, who was still seated next to him, reached out and idly ran her fingers through his silver, silken hair. A soft laugh escaped her lips as she noticed how limp and unguarded he had become.

"It seems you guys aren't the only ones who took Revana's toast a little too seriously," she said with amusement, watching as everyone else began to rise and yawn, their contented sigh filling the air as they readied to return to their chambers.

Leonardo lingered for a moment, eyeing his brother with a raised brow. Unlike the others, he looked very sober. It was obvious him and Esme were the only ones who barely drank the wine. "Are you sure you don't want help carrying him upstairs? I'll make sure he doesn't hear the end of it tomorrow when he sobers up," he uttered, his voice laced with a hint of payback and also genuine concern.

Esme offered him a grateful smile and shook her head. "You've all had a long day. I can manage." She then turned to Althea. "Dinner was wonderful, as always. Thank you for that."

The compliment made Althea's cheeks bloom with pleasure. "Oh, you're too kind," she responded, her eyes gleaming. She gave Esme a playful curtsy before looping her arm through Revana's and dragging her sister toward the hallway.

As the last footsteps faded, and the dining room grew quiet, Esme turned her attention back to Donovan. The candles flickered gently, casting warm pools of light over his peaceful face. She leaned in close, her voice soft, intimate and fond.

"Don?" She murmured near his ear, "It's time for bed."

The Alpha didn't respond at first. His breathing was slow and heavy, the kind of rhythm only wine and exhaustion could summon. Esme smiled to herself, fondness flickering behind her eyes, and she tapped his shoulder lightly.

"Come now, you're far too proud to be caught sleeping at the table like this," she teased softly, tapping him on the shoulder once more.

A quiet groan rumbled from his throat as he finally stirred, lifting his head with sluggish reluctance. "Wasn't sleeping…" he mumbled in defense, making Esme laugh under her breath, warmth blooming in her chest.

"Are you sure?" She asked. "Your eyes were shut for a good ten minutes. Shall I call that meditation then?"

He shifted slightly, his brow furrowing at her observation. "Did you really sit there counting so you could mock me, my Queen?"

Esme blinked at the nickname. Even through the haze of drink, he said it with such disarming affection that caught her off guard. Her cheeks warmed before she could help it, and she quickly stood, brushing off invisible dust from her skirt to hide her fluster.

"We leave at first light tomorrow," she reminded him, reaching for his arm to pull it up. "Let's get you to bed before your pride regains consciousness and realizes what a fool you've made of yourself. I doubt it would find it as endearing as I did. Leonardo already said he wouldn't let you hear the end of it tomorrow."

"Ahh… I shouldn't have accepted that challenge with Archer," he pushed himself upright. "The room won't stop spinning."

"I tried to warn you," Esme slipped her arm through his with practiced ease, anchoring him. "But you wouldn't listen to me. You may have won the challenge but at what cost? I feel sad for Archer cause he was dragged away by his feet. Maybe next time you two will learn from this."

Shaking her head slightly, she led him up the stairs. The corridors were quiet and lit only by the soft glow of oil lamps. The thick carpet muffled their footsteps as she led the way, her arm still looped around his. She was thankful he was aware not to rest his entire weight on her.

"You smell like crushed grapes," Esme murmured as they moved on, her voice low and teasing near his shoulder.

A lazy huff of laughter escaped him. "I liked the red one better."

"That was pomegranate," she said with a quiet smile.

"Was it?" he asked, as if trying to summon the memory through the haze of wine. The vague tilt of his head and the slight furrow in his brow made her laugh softly. This side of him was one of her favorite– the rare, unguarded and almost boyish side of him.

When they reached the chamber, she nudged the door open and guided him inside. The air within was cool, and the scent of lavender lingered faintly, all the curtains drawn to hush the moonlight. The fire in the hearth had long since died, but the warmth between them seemed to fill the place.

Esme helped him lower himself onto the edge of his bed. He sat heavily, with his elbows on his knees, head bowed low, and shoulders slack beneath his shirt. The fabric clung slightly to the strength of his back. Esme simply knelt before him, her fingers brushing against his knee.

"Don," she called gently, "you should lie down now."

He didn't answer. Instead, his hand drifted down, finding hers in the dim light. His fingers curled slowly around her wrist, not tight, but just enough to keep her there. She watched him quietly, her heart knocking in her chest as she studied his face– the way the shadow of his lashes rested low over violet eyes. He looked mesmerizing without even trying.

"Esme," he said her name like a vow, the sound barely louder than a breath. "Earlier, when I felt that sudden pull… I knew it was the mate bond. But for a heartbeat, it was like my wolf was.. pushed away. Not by you, but by your wolf. It felt like a quiet rejection– one I'm still struggling to explain. But then it was gone, like it never happened. I've been trying to make sense of it ever since. I just… I don't want to ever feel that again."

"You won't," Esme assured him, her voice gentler than her convinction. "You have nothing to fear. Not even from my wolf. Because if she ever wakes, I'm certain she'll love you just as fiercely as I do. She won't have a choice. You're my mate, and your wolf is hers. If anything, she'll owe the three of us a massive apology for keeping us waiting."

"Wait–" he blinked, a sudden light dancing in his eyes. "Say that again."

"What?" Esme asked, looking clearly confused.

"What you just said. About if she ever wakes up. What did you say after that?"

It was Esme's turn to blink, her cheeks warming up. "I said… well–" it didn't take long before the realization dawned on her mid-sentence, and she faltered. Her gaze darted to his instinctively, then immediately away, already flustered by the weight of her own words.

"I see, your memory is sharp to remember that but not the pomegranate?"

"Don't change the subject," he protested, gently reaching for her chin and tilting her face toward his. Esme's knees remained rooted beneath her, but she no longer felt like running. In fact, she wanted to stop running from everything she's felt to this point.

"Don't you think I deserve to hear it?" he asked softly, his thumb brushing her cheek with reverent tenderness. His eyes searched hers, patient and waiting, and he looked more sober now than when she first brought him in. He really wanted to hear her say it badly?

Esme cussed her heart for beating too much, but eventually, her lips parted in surrender as she locked gaze with him. "I.. love you," she whispered. "I love you. So much."

For a second, she saw it– the faint blush that crept across his cheeks. Then he laughed, the sound low and warm, as if her words poured sunlight into his chest. He brought her face a little too close to his, to the point he could kiss her if he wanted, but resisted.

"I love you," he echoed back, his eyes bright. "A lot."

------

(And no– whatever you're imagining, exactly what is in your head, won't happen next. 😌)