Chapter 6: The Heat of It

Severin's POV

The moment she stepped inside, the hidden door sealed itself shut without a sound.

I was about to sit down when the knock came.

The servant stepped inside.

"My lord. The evening meal is prepared."

I thought, without meaning to, of the look on her face when she'd talked about food.

That bright, unguarded expression, like she'd just discovered something wonderful.

"What sweets are on the menu?"

"Apple tart, dried-fruit bread, and berry jam, my lord."

"Put a layer of honey on the apple tart."

The servant paused. I raised an eyebrow. He lowered his head and withdrew without another word.

His footsteps faded down the corridor.

I reached for the stack of parchment on the stone table — patrol records, border reports, things that needed my attention — and then I stopped.

There was a sound.

These walls were half an arm's length thick. Very little got through them.

I went still and listened.

It was small. Soft. And distinctly irritated.

"Severin! I'm going to freeze to death in here!"

I was already moving.

I knocked twice on the stone frame of the hidden door and pushed it open, then crossed the passage in a few strides and shoved the far door wide.

Steam hung in the air, thick and pale. The candle flames along the walls blurred into soft halos through the mist.

She huddled beside the stone pool, her dress slightly damp, a few strands of silver hair clinging to her neck in the damp air.

She had her arms wrapped around herself.

She looked straight at me like a small wolf that had fallen into a puddle and was fully prepared to hold someone personally responsible.

"This water," she said, her soft accent giving every syllable a rounded edge, "is freezing."

I looked past her, at the pool. Steam was still rising off the surface in slow, even curls.

The warmth in the room said she was wrong. Every instinct I had said the same.

But I stepped forward anyway, crouched at the edge, and pressed the back of my hand into the water.

Hot. The way wolves liked it — even a little past that.

I straightened and looked at her. "It isn't cold."

Her eyes went wide.

"It is cold!" she said immediately, then hesitated, glancing down at her feet. Her voice dropped a little. "It's... very cold. My feet have gone numb."

Something was wrong with her. The realization brought the healer's warning back to me at once.

The injury. The wolfsbane. The long sleep.

And the medicine.

"The compound will suppress the toxin's effects on her body for a time. But there may be side effects."

"Skin sensitivity, numbness, difficulty perceiving temperature. It should resolve on its own within seven days."

"It's a side effect of the medicine," I said. "You feel cold. But your body is lying to you."

She stared at me. Didn't speak for a moment.

"...My body is lying to me?"

"Temporarily."

She went quiet. "I knew something felt off... When will it go back to normal? Can't you do something about it?"

She reached out and caught my sleeve with both hands, tugging gently.

I looked down at her fingers.

I exhaled.

There was a method.

An Alpha's body temperature ran higher than a standard wolf's, and with some effort could be consciously directed.

Transfer heat through direct contact, slowly enough for her skin to register the change, and her perception would recalibrate on its own.

It wasn't complicated. Healers sometimes used a version of it on pups whose temperature regulation hadn't settled yet. But it required direct skin contact.

My wolf stirred.

I forced it back down.

This is nothing. I'm helping her. That is all this is.

She was in my keep. She needed help. That was the only relevant fact.

"Give me your hand." I stepped closer. "I can help you recover, but you need to stay still."

She hesitated for less than a breath.

Then she held out her hand.

The moment I closed my fingers around hers, I felt it — that unnatural sluggishness beneath the skin.

I steadied my breath and began, carefully, to raise the temperature in my palm. Letting the heat move into her by degrees rather than all at once.

"Your hand," she said, looking up at me, her lashes shifting slightly. Her voice was a quiet murmur. "It feels a little cold too."

I glanced at her face.

Her whole face gone red, fine beads of sweat already forming at her hairline, damp strands of silver clinging to her temple.

I was pushing the heat through too fast. I dialed it back, made myself slow down.

She stopped talking. The sweat was soaking through her clothes now, the thin fabric settling against her shape.

I moved my gaze to the stone wall to my left and kept it there, focusing on the steady output of heat and nothing else.

I don't know how long we stood like that.

At some point, her fingers shifted. Curled inward, slowly, without her seeming to notice. She tightened her grip around my hand.

My wolf turned over once in my chest.

"Warm."

Her voice had changed — lighter, rising with something she couldn't quite contain. "I can feel it. It's warm!"

I didn't answer.

She took two steps closer to me and tilted her head back to look up at me directly, her eyes full of something open and entirely unguarded.

"I'm better! Severin, you're incredible!"

She pressed a hand to her own cheek, pleased with herself, then looked at the pool. Then at me.

Then back at the pool. She seemed to reach some kind of internal conclusion —

And jumped in.

The water came up in a clean, decisive splash.

I stood at the edge and watched a cloud of silver hair spread across the surface.

She was laughing — an easy, delighted sound — thrashing a little, completely unbothered by the fact that she was still fully dressed.

I said nothing for a moment.

Then another moment.

She doesn't even know to take her clothes off. How was a silly little wolf like her supposed to survive at the sanctuary?

I turned and walked back to the hidden door.

The stone closed behind me.

The steam and the laughter stayed on the other side.