Chapter 236
To Earn
“A husband?” Althea’s voice rose, sharp with disbelief. “No. That can’t be right. Where is my father?”
The question hung heavy in the air. Melva stiffened, and for a brief moment, her eyes flicked to Gavriel. He met her gaze, his expression tightening, the unspoken weight of the truth passing between them.
Melva turned back to Althea and forced a gentle smile. “Milady… there are many things you need to know, but not all at once. You’ve just awakened. Your body is still weak.”
Althea shook her head immediately, strands of her hair brushing against the pillow. “No. Don’t do that,” she said, her tone firm despite her frailty. “Don’t delay it. Tell me now. Where is my father?”
Melva hesitated, then reached for her hand. “We will talk. I promise. But first, you must rest. You haven’t eaten yet. Are you hungry?”
“No,” Althea replied at once, her grip tightening around Melva’s fingers. “I don’t care about food. I want answers. Now.”
The room fell silent again.
Melva swallowed and turned toward Gavriel, silently asking for permission. For a heartbeat, it looked as though he might refuse, as though the words might cost him more than he could bear.
Then he nodded once.
“You may explain,” he said quietly.
Without another word, he gestured for the healers to follow him. They bowed respectfully and filed out of the chamber, leaving the door to close softly behind them.
Soon, only Melva and Althea remained.
Melva took a slow breath, brushing Althea’s hair back from her face, her expression solemn yet tender. “Alright, milady,” she said softly. “I’ll tell you everything. But you must listen carefully… because what I’m about to say will not be easy to hear.”
Althea held her gaze, her eyes steady and unflinching. “I’m ready,” she said.
*****
The moment Gavriel stepped out of the bedchamber, the fragile restraint he had been holding onto finally snapped.
He rounded on the healers, his jaw clenched, his voice low and edged with fury. “Explain what happened,” he demanded. “Why does she remember Melva but not me?”
The healers exchanged uneasy glances. One of them swallowed hard before stepping forward. He bowed his head slightly, choosing his words with care.
“Your Majesty… Lady Althea’s mind has been wounded, much like her body was,” he began. “What she is experiencing is something our order calls the backward loss of memory.”
Gavriel’s eyes narrowed. “Speak plainly.”
The healer nodded. “When a person suffers great shock or is brought back from the brink of death, the mind sometimes protects itself. It loosens its hold on the most recent memories, especially those tied to strong emotion, pain, or fear. What came earlier, what was steady and familiar, often remains.”
He hesitated before continuing, glancing at the closed door behind them.
“Lady Althea remembers Melva because she was a constant presence in her life long before the recent events. You, Your Majesty…” He lowered his gaze. “Your bond with her was forged in fire. Love, danger, sacrifice. The mind may have sealed those memories away to survive.”
Gavriel’s hands curled into fists at his sides. The explanation did nothing to ease the ache in his chest.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Zander and Elior approached, having arrived just in time to hear the healer’s words.
Zander stopped beside Gavriel. “She’s alive,” Zander said quietly. “That’s what matters most. Memory can return with time. Don’t rush her. Don’t force yourself into a place her mind isn’t ready to reopen yet.”
Gavriel exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “She looked at me like I was a stranger.”
He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms, to feel her warmth and press his lips to hers, to remind himself that she was still his. But the distant look in her eyes stopped him cold.
It was subtle, almost unnoticeable to anyone else. Yet to him, it felt like a blade.
The warmth in his chest vanished, replaced by a sudden chill that crept through his body, seeping into his veins and freezing them one by one. For the first time, he hesitated, his arms falling back to his sides as the space between them felt wider than it ever had before.
Zander met his gaze. “Then be patient enough to become someone she can trust again.”
Elior stepped forward then, leaning lightly with his presence calm as ever. “All things unfold with purpose,” he said gently. “Even pain. Even forgetting.”
Gavriel turned toward him, frustration flickering in his eyes. “What purpose could this serve?”
Elior smiled softly. “Perhaps this is not a punishment, but a path. A chance for love to be chosen again… not remembered.”
Silence settled over the corridor.
Beyond the closed door, Althea lived and breathed once more. For Gavriel, that truth alone had to be enough.
He drew in a slow breath, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, stripped of command.
“Then I will not rush her,” Gavriel said. “I won’t bind her to a life she cannot remember choosing.”
Zander turned to look at him, surprised.
“I’ll remain here for a few more days,” Gavriel continued. “Let her regain her strength. Let her find her footing again.”
His gaze drifted toward the door of Althea’s chamber, lingering there.
“When she is well enough to travel,” he said slowly, “I will bring her with me only if she is willing. Her title can wait. The ceremony can wait.”
Zander exhaled quietly, relief softening his expression. “That is wiser.”
Elior nodded, approval clear in his eyes. “Power that waits is greater than power that demands.”
Gavriel’s jaw tightened. “If she chooses me again someday,” he said, “then it will be real. Not because she was told it was her fate… but because she wants it.”
Elior smiled, his voice gentle. “Then this path, painful as it is, may yet lead to something truer than before.”
Gavriel said nothing more. For the first time since Althea opened her eyes and looked through him, he understood the weight of Elior’s words.
Love was no longer something to reclaim. It was something to earn.
Their relationship had begun the wrong way, shaped by power, fear, and circumstances. Gavriel saw that clearly now. This time, he would do it differently. He would make it right.
Althea would have her own voice, her own choices. The freedom to decide her path, her future, and whether that future included him at all.
And if she chose him again, it would not be because of fate, duty, or memory. It would be because she wanted to.