4: Darken War

12: Alexandria

Chapter Twelve: Alexandria

I woke with a jolt, breath catching in my chest like I'd surfaced from deep, suffocating water. The room was still, but the air felt full—of warmth, of magic, of the lingering scent of lavender and cedar. Morning sunlight poured through the curtains, which fluttered gently in the breeze drifting through the open window. The familiar softness of my bed, the embroidered edges of my pillowcase, the subtle hum of enchantments—this was my room. I was home.

I sat up slowly, scanning my surroundings. The ache in my limbs was dull, manageable—my magic, I realized, was returning. It coursed just beneath my skin like a gentle river, not yet at its full force but strong enough that I could defend both my mind and body if it came to that.

The nightgown I wore was simple but elegant, its delicate lace trim unmistakably Carlisle's work. I smiled faintly. Trust him to make even post-coma sleepwear fashionable.

I slid out of bed carefully and walked to the tall mirror near the corner. My reflection stared back—pale but no longer ghostly, eyes still rimmed with exhaustion, but glowing faintly with magic. My hair was loose, slightly tangled from days in bed. I ran my fingers through it, breathing in, grounding myself.

Alive. Awake. Whole.

I padded silently to the door and cracked it open. Voices drifted toward me—lighthearted, familiar.

The sitting room was alive with laughter and the clinking of teacups. Alana sat perched in Alexander's lap, feeding him some kind of sweet with exaggerated care. Thorne and James were hunched over a table, clearly mid-strategy debate. Carlisle and Lilliana chatted animatedly about designs, their hands gesturing wildly. On a soft rug in the center of the room, the children played—Astraea and Alex laughing with Leo and the babies, their grandmother Maryanne watching fondly.

A quiet moment of peace. A rare gift in our lives.

I cleared my throat gently.

The effect was instant. Heads snapped toward me. Cups dropped. Everyone surged to their feet in unison. James reached me first.

"Are you okay?" he asked, cupping my face in his hands. His voice trembled despite his best efforts.

"I am," I said with a soft smile, leaning into his touch. "He won't be able to get into my mind again. I'm stronger now."

I looked around at all the stunned faces, each one showing some combination of relief, awe, and concern. "How long was I out?"

James hesitated. "Six days. And for the record—you're not leaving the palace without someone again."

I pulled myself free of his arms, crossing mine in return. "James, you know damn well you can't stop me from doing what needs to be done. Don't try to control me. It won't end well—for either of us."

Thorne snorted and quickly pulled James aside, whispering something in his ear to calm him down.

Alexander was next to reach me, pulling me into a tight embrace. "Sister," he whispered.

I hugged him back briefly—then shoved him away.

"Nope. Not happy with you right now either."

"What?" He looked genuinely wounded.

I tried to hold my stern face. I really did. But I cracked and burst out laughing.

"Brother," I said between laughs, "I don't care who you fall in love with. Alana's amazing—even if she's technically my son's aunt. But really? Did you think I hadn't noticed you two sneaking around behind my back?"