The Royal Alpha

Chapter 8: Aztec's Birthday.

"What do you want for your birthday?" I ask softly.

Aztec pauses mid-bite, his fork hovering above the plate. We sit side by side in the dining hall, the low murmur of conversation blending into a dull, comforting hum. Lanterns hang overhead, casting warm light across long wooden tables, and for once, the air doesn't feel heavy with expectations.

Dinner has become my refuge here.
The only time when the constant rhythm of training slows enough for me to breathe.

He sets his fork down thoughtfully. "As long as I get the chance to meet my mate," he says after a moment, "I don't really need anything else."

There's no longing in his voice. No impatience. Just a quiet certainty.

My chest tightens—not painfully, but warmly. Hope spreads through me, slow and steady.

"You think you'll recognize her?" I ask, keeping my tone light even though my heartbeat picks up.

Aztec smiles faintly, his eyes softening. "I don't think it'll be loud or dramatic. I think it'll feel... right. Like something clicking into place."

His gaze lingers on me—open, familiar, trusting. I look away first, suddenly very aware of how exposed I feel under that look.

"You should eat," he adds gently. "You've barely touched your food."

I nod and do as he says, letting myself stay in this moment. This ease. This quiet affection. It's why I've never doubted us. Why I've always believed that whatever the Goddess had planned for me would lead back here.

~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night, Tatiana and I settle into our familiar routine.

She sits cross-legged on her bed, brushing her hair slowly, methodically. I lean back against my pillows, the faint ache in my muscles reminding me of the day's training. The room is quiet in the way shared spaces become quiet when both people are comfortable enough not to fill every silence.

I'd learned early on that Tatiana was reserved by nature. She didn't respond well to unfamiliar people being forced into her life, and when we were first assigned to share a room, I'd felt that distance clearly. It hadn't been hostility—just caution. I'd been an intrusion into her carefully guarded space.

But time had softened that edge.

Awkward politeness had turned into routine conversation. Routine had turned into comfort. Somewhere along the way, asking How was your day? became a habit neither of us questioned. It wasn't dramatic, but it was steady—and I'd come to rely on it more than I realized.

"How was dinner?" Tatiana asks quietly.

"Nice," I reply. "Aztec seems... hopeful."

She hums softly. "He's been like that lately."

I hesitate, then speak before I can overthink it. "Did you ever worry about finding your mate?"

Tatiana's brushing slows. "Not worry," she says after a moment. "Wonder, maybe."

She glances at me. "Why?"

"I don't know," I admit. "It feels like something's about to change. Tomorrow."

She studies me for a long second. "Change doesn't always mean loss, Sierra."

I nod, though unease settles low in my stomach.

"Whatever happens," she adds gently, "you won't be alone here."

The words sink deeper than she probably intends.