Page 22 of The Alpha's Arranged Mate

But then she’d seen Reeve at the battle, and in the few breathless words they’d exchanged in the aftermath of the fight, he’d confirmed her worst fears. He wasn’t running away—he fully intended to meet his brother’s challenge. And she could tell from the look of resignation in his eyes that he didn’t think he stood a chance of winning. She wanted to shake him, to scream at him for being a fool, for letting this sense of honor condemn him to death… but she knew that would have been the height of hypocrisy, coming from her.

And the day after the battle, Darion announced the time and place for the battle. They’d fight at the training ring, blessing the soil there with the blood of their battle… at dawn, exactly seven days hence. Lyrie relied on every trick she’d ever known to keep her expression blank and neutral, then hastened back to Syrra’s cottage as quickly as she could before the tears overflowed.

“We have to stop them,” she kept saying as her shoulders shook with sobs. Syrra stroked her hair back from her face, her kind blue eyes vivid with worry. “We can’t let them do this. We can’t let them kill each other.”

“I’m with you,” Syrra said softly. “Reeve and Darion are both dear friends of mine. I owe them both my life. I don’t want this any more than you do.”

“Renfrey could stop them.” She felt utterly out of control, helpless, wrecked—she dashed the tears from her face, only to feel more spill down her cheeks to take their place. “Renfrey could order them not to fight.”

But Syrra was shaking her head. “You know the Old Rites transcend even an Alpha’s authority.”

“I know,” she said irritably, dropping her face into her hands. “I know, I know. But maybe they shouldn’t.” It was the closest thing to blasphemy she’d ever spoken. She could feel Syrra sitting very still, knew without looking that her friend was studying her closely. Finally, she exhaled and looked up, forcing a wan smile onto her face. “Alright. Enough histrionics. It’s out of my system. Now—what can we do?”

Syrra smiled, the expression somehow reassuring despite the lingering worry in her eyes. “We do everything we can with the time we’ve got left,” she said simply.

And so began the longest week of Lyrie’s life. She did her best to avoid crowds where she could, not liking the half-curious, half-sympathetic looks on the wolves she passed. But it was hard to resist the urge to tune into the gossip about the upcoming duel, especially when she, too, was struggling to think about anything else. She was pleased to learn, after a walk through town one afternoon, that the general consensus on the reason for the duel was to do with the age-old dispute between the brothers, and not with Lyrie. When she mentioned this to Syrra, the lorekeeper was able to corroborate the impression.

“That’s something, at least,” Lyrie said, glancing over her shoulder out of force of habit, even though she knew Renfrey was still out and would be for some time. “I would’ve hated for people to think that Reeve was the kind of man who’d do that.” She paused. “Also, I’d have torn anyone limb from limb if they tried something like that.”

Syrra chuckled, though her expression was weary. Lyrie could tell the situation was taking its toll on the lorekeeper, not to mention her soulmate. Renfrey had been spending a lot of time with both Darion and Reeve in the leadup to the duel, and Lyrie suspected he was doing what he could to talk the two out of fighting. She was grateful he was trying, but she knew how limited his power was. Darion was more dedicated to the traditions than anyone on the island. If the Rite said that the duel had to go ahead, then Darion would be going ahead with the duel.

“What about Darion?” Syrra asked now, tilting her head. “Does he believe his brother hurt you?”

She hesitated, frowning a little as she considered the question. “We’ve barely talked since the hearing,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t know what he believes about what happened. Once the lorekeepers had left, I tried to tell him it was consensual, but I don’t know if he was listening. I don’t know if he cares,” she said, not liking the picture it painted of her Alpha. “I think he’s so angry that Reeve and I slept together at all that he’s determined to believe the worst possible version of things to justify the duel.”

“That fits with what Renfrey’s been saying,” Syrra said heavily, shaking her head. “It’s hard, of course, because he can’t be seen to be trying to sway the duel at all—that’s part of the traditions, as you know. But he’s doing his best.”

“And so are we,” Lyrie said firmly, setting her empty teacup down and rising to her feet. “Now—to the library?”

“Only if you promise you’ll be back by midnight this time,” Syrra said, a sharp note of warning in her voice. “No more all-nighters.”

Lyrie fought the urge to roll her eyes and murmured obedient agreement instead. She’d come home just before dawn that morning, having lost track of the time while poring through old records in the basement of the old library. The research she’d been pursuing had ended up being a dead end, which was frustrating—but she refused to give up hope. “We don’t have much time,” she pointed out, hoping she’d hit the right balance of polite and firm that would stop Syrra from fussing over her. “I can catch up on the sleep I lose after we’ve found something that will save Reeve and Darion from each other.”

“Sure,” Syrra said crossly. “Or, you can burn yourself out completely and collapse in a heap. Might I remind you that it’s not just your own health you’re putting at risk, by the way?” she added in an undertone. Lyrie shot her a furious look then glanced over her shoulder. Syrra scoffed. “Oh, relax. What, do you think someone’s going to overhear us discussing your pregnancy from the footpath outside?”

“I don’t know,” Lyrie snapped. “You can’t say a word in Reeve’s office without risking dozens of people all over the world hearing it somehow.” The experience of sitting in on Reeve’s online meetings had utterly changed her impression of exactly how private a conversation could be. He’d told her a few stories about technological eavesdropping in the human world that had made her sick to her stomach. It was highly unlikely that anyone on this island had the technological know-how to plant listening devices anywhere—let alone the motivation to bug Syrra’s living room—but still, knowing that it was possible was enough to fuel Lyrie’s paranoia.

Her pregnancy. She could still hardly believe it when she thought about it—which was a big part of why she was trying not to. After the shocking revelation on the beach, she and Syrra had spent some more time confirming that it was indeed the case—she was pregnant. Whenever she knew she wasn’t being watched, she would allow a hand to rest carefully on her belly, wondering if she was imagining the tiny flicker she thought she could feel there. Was it too early to notice something like that? Well, it wouldn’t be for long. Sooner or later, she’d start showing… by which time she needed to be well away from Kurivon.

Not for the first time, she reflected on how lucky she was to have a friend like Syrra in her corner. Without Syrra to talk to, she knew she’d have probably succumbed to the stress by now—and then she’d be no use to anyone. Keeping busy, that was the trick. She had to stay focused on what she could do, and try to keep her mind off the upsetting number of factors that were totally outside of her control… like the fact that the days were ticking by at a terrifying pace, and she was still no closer to finding anything in the musty old record books that could hope to stop the duel. Stay strong, she told herself as the panic rose. Stay strong and weather the storm.

The night before the duel, Syrra looked at her across the table and asked whether she planned on attending. She considered the question without taking her eyes off the page of the book she was reading, feeling her brow crease in a frown. What an awful question. Of course she didn’t want to watch two brothers fight to the death in front of her—two men she respected, two men she cared for, two men she loved. But on the other hand, she had to face the fact that it would be the last time she saw one of them alive. And if it was Reeve who lost, it would be the last chance she’d get to tell him about their child.

“I can’t answer that,” she said finally, looking up to meet Syrra’s blue eyes. “No, that’s not right. I won’t answer that.”

“Good answer,” Syrra said, and Lyrie returned her faint smile as they both returned to their books. There had to be a way to fix all this, she told herself. That was simply the only reality she was willing to accept.

Chapter 15 - Reeve

Reeve was surprised by how quickly the last week of his life flew by.

He’d expected the days to drag by, the horrible anticipation of the duel making his every waking moment a misery. Instead, he was surprised by how cheerful he felt. It had something to do with the inevitability of it, he suspected. He knew, down to the minute, exactly when he was going to die. Compared to that, every other problem he’d ever had felt utterly inconsequential.

After Darion had announced the time and place for the duel, he’d headed back to his yacht with his worried staff around him, expecting that he’d need some time to recover from the bad news. Instead, he’d found himself full of a curious lightness once he’d reached the yacht. He’d gone straight into his office and made the necessary adjustments to the paperwork, ensuring that ownership of the company would transfer smoothly to Darion in the event of his death, not just the event of his disappearance. He’d sent a few strange emails to his legal team over the years, but he had a feeling that this one was the strangest. But just like they always had, they came through for him, confirming that everything was squared away. He spent the rest of the afternoon examining his will to make sure everything was in order… and then, with a jolt, he realized he was free.

He closed the door of his office behind him, a curious haze of unreality shimmering over his vision. Then, with a shrug, he headed for the pool. What better way to spend one of his last days alive? There weren’t many things in this world he liked more than swimming… though he did hesitate in the place where the broken deck chair had once stood, a soft smile curving his lips upward. Okay, he could think of one thing he’d prefer to spend the week doing. But there was only one woman on Earth he’d want to do it with, and she also happened to be the one woman on Earth he absolutely couldn’t make contact with.

He hoped she’d be at the duel, at least. Selfish of him, maybe, but he wanted to see her one last time before death came for him.

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