<h4>Chapter 659: Sending for The Royal Healer</h4>


    <strong><i>[Meredith].</i></strong>


    A month had passed.


    For the first time in a long while, Stormveil felt peaceful, the kind that was steadier. The kind that settled after chaos had been resolved, when everything that needed to be done had already beenpleted.


    Yesterday, I received my grandmother’s letter. I had read it more than once.


    <i>"Tomorrow is a blessed day." </i>That was how she began.


    Then, further down, she mentioned Draven—said the fae would be willing to help him secure the Great Wall, though under certain conditions she would only reveal when they met.


    That part didn’t surprise me. What lingered in my mind was thest line.


    <i>"My dear, Edith... congrattions to you and yours."</i>


    I still didn’t understand it. At first, I thought it was because of everything that had happened—my long-standing enemies we had crushed, the stability we had restored.


    It would make sense for her to acknowledge that, and yet, something about it felt different.


    —


    This morning, I woke up feeling odd. Not in any rming way, just... heavy.


    My body felt unusually tired, as though I hadn’t rested at all. Even lifting my arm felt like more effort than it should have been.


    I remained lying on the bed for a while, staring at the ceiling, trying to gather the will to move. I didn’t want to get up.


    "Still sleeping?" Draven’s voice came from beside me.


    "I’m awake," I murmured.


    "Doesn’t look like it."


    I didn’t respond. A moment passed, then I felt the shift in the bed as he turned toward me. "Are you nning to stay there all day?"


    "Yes," I said tly.


    A low chuckle left him. "That’s unfortunate," he replied. "Because I don’t recall giving the Queen permission to abandon her duties."


    I frowned slightly but still didn’t move. And that prompted him to lean closer.


    "Or, has my Queen grown weak?" he added casually.


    That made me turn my head. "I am not weak."


    "Then prove it."


    I stared at him for a moment. Annoyance shed through the exhaustion. Yet, with a quiet breath, I pushed myself up.


    "See?" he said lightly.


    I didn’t dignify that with a response. The moment I stood, however, the heaviness returned. My steps felt slower than usual, my energy lower.


    Draven noticed. Before I could take another step, his arm slid around me, and in one smooth motion, he lifted me.


    "Draven—"


    "You are slow today," he said simply, already walking toward the bathing room.


    I didn’t bother trying to argue with him.


    —


    The mirror reflected both of us. I stood at the basin, brushing my teeth, while he remained just behind me, doing his own thing.


    But halfway through, a sudden wave of nausea struck. I paused, and my hand tightened slightly on the edge of the basin as the sensation unexpectedly grew.


    Then I leaned forward, but nothing came. Only that ufortable, hollow sensation. I frowned slightly and straightened.


    In the mirror, I caught Draven’s sharp, focused gaze. "Are you alright?" he asked.


    "I’m fine," I said, rinsing my mouth. "Just a slight headache." Then I wiped my lips and added, "I probably overdid training yesterday."


    He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, lifted his hand and rested it against my forehead.


    The gesture was simple, but his expression shifted almost instantly. His brows drew together slightly, then his gaze lowered to my abdomen.


    I followed his gaze, confused. "What is it?" I asked.


    He didn’t answer right away. There was a brief pause, then a subtle shift—faint and unfamiliar passed through the matebond. It was neither mine nor his. It was just something softer.


    Draven’s hand moved slowly from my forehead down to rest lightly against my stomach. His touch stilled there. And for the first time since I had known him, he looked... uncertain.


    "Meredith," he said quietly.


    My breath slowed. "What is it?" I asked again, more quietly this time.


    Draven exhaled slowly, then his eyes lifted to meet mine through the mirror. There was something new in them. Something I had never seen before.


    "You’re not sick," he said. "You’re carrying my cub."


    For a moment, I just stared at him. The words didn’t settle immediately. They hovered somewhere in my mind, just out of reach, as though I had heard them but hadn’t quite understood them.


    "...What?" I asked quietly.


    Draven didn’t look away. If anything, his focus sharpened. Through the matebond, I felt it—his certainty and instinct.


    "I can feel it," he said, his voice lower now. "Faint... but it’s there."


    My brows drew together slightly. "That’s not possible," I said, though my voicecked its usual firmness.


    <i>’How could I be with child and not know?’</i>


    I turned my attention inward. At first, there was nothing, then a strange, unfamiliar warmth brushed faintly against my senses. It was subtle, almost too soft to grasp, but once noticed, it was hard to ignore.


    I stilled.


    Draven’s grip, which had moved to my waist, tightened slightly, as if sensing the exact moment I felt it.


    "You feel it," he said.


    It wasn’t a question.


    "I..." I exhaled slowly. "It’s faint."


    "That’s enough," he replied.


    Before I could say anything else, he moved. In one swift motion, he lifted me again.


    "Draven—"


    "No." The single word was firm. "You’re not walking."


    I blinked at him. "I can walk."


    "You won’t."


    There was no room for argument. His hold on me was secure, careful, but unyielding.


    Through the bond, I felt it again. Not just certainty this time, but something deeper—protectiveness. Possessiveness. A sharp, instinctive awareness that shiftedpletely in an instant.


    I exhaled quietly, letting him carry me.


    By the time we reached the bedchamber, the atmosphere had already changed. Draven didn’t set me down immediately. Instead, he nced toward the door.


    "Oscar."


    Themand was heard because, by coincidence, Oscar was actually outside the room. And within moments, he appeared.


    "Your Majesty."


    "Please, send for the royal healer. Now," Draven said without hesitation.


    Oscar paused for only a fraction of a second, then bowed. "At once."


    He left immediately.


    Draven finally ced me down on the bed, his movements careful, almost deliberate. He adjusted the pillows behind me before stepping back slightly, but not far.


    His eyes never left me.


    "You are overreacting," I said, though there was less conviction in my voice now.


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