Chapter4

[Alrik's POV]

The heart beating in Serena's chest had finally found its rhythm—strong and steady.

The color seeping back into her pallid face was the first real breath Alrik had drawn in what felt like hours.

He turned.

His eyes found Leila in the corner—that still, white shape crumpled on the floor.

Looking at her motionless face, a stab of pain moved through him—but it was quickly swallowed by anticipation.

She'll come back. She always does.

He crossed to her and cleaned the blood from her face. He dressed her in her favorite white gown and combed her hair until it lay smooth and perfect. Then he gathered her into his arms and carried her, step by measured step, back to her cabin.

Inside, he laid her carefully on the bed and tucked her hair back into place.

Then he stepped outside and began issuing instructions to his men in a steady, methodical voice.

"Have a flower arch built in the open ground. The tallest design we have. Cover it in white rose petals—fresh ones, not dried."

His closest aide hesitated. "My lord—Leila hasn't woken yet. Isn't it a bit early to be setting this up?"

"It's not early." Alrik's hand moved to the velvet box in his pocket, and a certain, quiet smile crossed his lips. "She'll be back any moment. This time, I want to surprise her."

Inside the box, a moonstone ring cast a soft glow—like the way Leila used to look at him.

He took the box out and studied the ring. Their names were engraved on the inside, alongside the word forever. He'd commissioned it specially.

This time, the moment her eyes opened, he'd be on one knee. She would see him kneeling before her, holding out this ring, asking her to be his.

He went back to the cabin and stood at her bedside, rehearsing his words to her still, silent face.

"Leila—marry me. I won't let you be hurt again. I won't let you suffer. I'll spend every day I have left making it up to you—and you'll be the happiest Luna who ever lived."

He imagined her face when she woke and found him kneeling before her. In spite of himself, a small smile broke across his face.

He went out to the courtyard and watched the workers raise the arch and scatter petals.

His aide approached again, cautious. "My lord—do you truly believe Leila will say yes?"

"She will," Alrik said, his thumb moving over the ring box. His voice left no room for doubt. "This time I'll make her feel what she means to me."

He looked toward the window. The sun had begun its long westward slide, as though counting down the time for him.

Alrik returned to the cabin and sat beside the bed, holding Leila's cold hand.

Her skin was like ice. But he knew—once twenty-four hours had passed, her heart would beat again.

He pulled out his pocket watch and checked it. Again. Then again.

Each of her previous deaths had been followed by revival within exactly twenty-four hours. This would be no different.

He counted down the seconds in his head, every one of them a step closer to having her back.

"My lord—it's nearly time," his aide said from the doorway, his voice tight with something that might have been anxiety.

Alrik rose, smoothed his coat, and walked to the bed.

He lowered himself onto one knee, ring box held out before him, his heartbeat keeping pace with the sweep of the pocket watch.

He looked at her pale face and counted under his breath.

Five. Four. Three. Two. One—