Page 39 of Once You Go Pack
Apparently, she’d been wrong.
Martin cleared his throat awkwardly. “Your Highness, we really should?—“
“I’m coming.” Cade moved toward the door, his stride purposeful and commanding. He paused at the threshold, glancing back at her one final time. “I’ll find you later.”
Then he was gone, leaving her standing in the wreckage of the gym with the scent of their lovemaking still hanging in the air and confusion clawing at her chest.
The walk back to her guest suite felt endless. Servants scurried through the corridors with worried expressions, their hushed conversations creating an atmosphere of barely contained panic. Whatever was happening with King Drake, it was serious enough to have the entire castle on edge.
By the time she reached her suite, lunch had been laid out on the coffee table in her sitting area—delicate sandwiches, fresh fruit, and steaming tea that she had no appetite for. The thoughtful gesture only emphasized how alone she was in this moment. Lyra and Cade were dealing with their family crisis while she sat in isolation.
Hours crawled by. She tried reading one of the books she had packed, attempted to write a short story about her adventure so far, even considered taking a nap. Nothing worked. Every sound in the corridor made her heart race, hoping it was Cade coming to find her, to include her in whatever was happening.
But he never came.
When Lyra finally appeared in her doorway four hours later, Mila knew immediately. The princess’s eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, her normally vibrant energy drained away. Her dark hair hung in tangles around her face, and her clothes were wrinkled like she’d been gripping them in her fists.
“Lyra.” Mila rose from the couch, her heart breaking at the devastation written across the younger woman’s features.
She’d seen that exact expression before—in the mirror twenty-two years ago when her own mother had finally lost her battle with cancer. The hollow shock and the disbelief that someone so vital could simply cease to exist.
“He’s gone.” Lyra’s voice came out as barely a whisper. “Father died an hour ago.”
The words hit Mila so intensely that she almost threw up.
“Oh, Lyra.” Mila crossed the room in three quick strides, pulling the princess into her arms without thinking. “I’m so sorry.”
Lyra collapsed against her, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. For long minutes, they stood there in the fading afternoon light, grief creating a bubble of shared understanding around them.
“We thought we had more time,” Lyra finally managed, her voice muffled against Mila’s shoulder. “The healers said months if he responded well to treatment. But this afternoon...” She pulled back, wiping her eyes with shaking hands. “It was like he was just waiting. Waiting until Cade had found you, that the succession was secure.”
The implication settled over Mila. King Drake had held on just long enough to see his son claim his mate, and to ensure his lineage would continue. Then he’d let go.
“Where is Cade?” Mila asked gently, though part of her already knew the answer.
“Locked in Father’s office, refusing to see anyone. Martin’s been trying to get him to eat something, and to at least acknowledge that the council needs to be notified.” Lyra’s green eyes filled with fresh tears. “He’s not handling this well.”
Every instinct Mila possessed urged her to go to him. To force him to let her comfort him. But Lyra’s next words stopped her cold.
“I think it’s better to let him be alone right now. You know how he gets—all closed off and stubborn when he’s upset. He’ll come find you when he’s ready.”
When he’s ready.As if grief operated on a convenient timeline. As if love could be scheduled around royal duty.
But Mila nodded anyway, respecting boundaries she didn’t understand in a world where she was still learning the rules. “Of course. Whatever he needs.”
After Lyra left—promising to send word if anything changed—Mila found herself alone again. But this time, the silence felt different. Charged with the heaviness of everything that had altered in the span of a single afternoon.
The hours stretched endlessly before Mila like an arctic wasteland. She’d moved from the couch to the window seat, then to the armchair, and finally to pacing the length of her guest suite like a caged animal. Each time footsteps echoed in the corridor outside, her heart leaped with desperate hope that Cade had finally come to find her. But servants hurried past her door carrying linens and flowers—preparations for the funeral, she realized with a fresh stab of pain.
He’s not coming tonight.
The truth settled over her like a heavy blanket. She understood, logically, that he was drowning in responsibilities she couldn’t even begin to comprehend. King Cade—the title felt foreign and intimidating even in her thoughts. He was no longer just the wolf prince who’d claimed her body with such desperate passion mere hours ago. He was the ruler of the Ice Moon pack, High Sovereign of the council, and probably buried under a mountain of decisions that couldn’t wait for grief to run its course.
But her heart ached anyway. Not just for herself, but for him—alone in his father’s office, shutting out everyone who might offer comfort. She knew that kind of isolation intimately, the way grief could make you feel like accepting help was somehow a betrayal.
I want to be there for him,she thought, pressing her forehead against the glass of her window. The twin moons hung low in the purple sky, their silver light casting ethereal shadows across the snow-covered mountains.I want to hold him while he falls apart and then help him put the pieces back together.
Instead, she was locked away like a delicate flower that might wilt under the harsh realities of royal duty.
