Page 159 of Chased By My Grumpy Alpha
“We prepare for war,” he says plainly. “Because one way or another, that’s exactly what this is going to become.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Astra
The mortar and pestle feel familiar in my hands as I grind dried moonflower petals into powder. The rhythmic motion soothes my nerves, even as worry gnaws at my chest like a persistent ache.
“The key is to crush them just enough to release the oils,” I explain to Mira, one of the royal healers who has been eager to learn my techniques. “Too much pressure and you’ll destroy the medicinal properties.”
She nods earnestly, taking notes in her leather-bound journal. “And this helps with sleep disturbances?”
“Nightmares, specifically,” I say, adding a pinch of lavender to the mixture. “The combination creates a calming effect that promotes peaceful rest.”
For the past two weeks, I’ve been teaching the younger healers my methods, and they now hang on my every word. But I’ve also been watching Lucian slowly disappear behind walls I can’t breach.
“Lady Astra?” Mira’s voice pulls me from my momentary brooding yet again. “Should I prepare the tincture base now?”
“Yes, but remember—moonflower only works at half-strength during daylight hours.”
I force myself to focus on the lesson, but my mind keeps drifting to this morning. To the way Lucian’s hands shook slightly as he reached for his coffee. To the dark circles under his eyes that seem to deepen each day. To the careful distance he maintains between us, even in our own bed.
Something is wrong. Something beyond the political pressures of court or the stress of recent events. My mate is struggling with something he won’t share, and it’s killing me to watch him suffer alone.
“The morning dose should be administered with honey,” I continue, my hands moving automatically through the familiar motions. “It masks the bitter taste and aids absorption.”
What makes it worse is how gentle he has become with me. Where once he was commanding, possessive, deliciously rough in ways that made my body sing, now he touches me like I might break. His kisses are tender when I crave fire, his hands reverent when I want to be claimed.
I miss my fierce prince. I miss the way he used to pin me against walls and growl that I belong to him. Now he whispers endearments against my hair and makes love to me with such careful sweetness that I want to scream.
“Lady Astra, there’s a guard here to see you.”
I look toward the voice and see one of the palace servants standing in the doorway. Her expression is neutral, but her eyes flicker in a way that makes my stomach clench.
“A guard?”
“He says Prince Lucian has requested your presence.”
My heart leaps with hope. Maybe he’s finally ready to talk. Maybe whatever has been eating at him can finally be addressed.
“Healer Mira, continue with the preparation. Add the willow bark extract after the base cools.” I set down my tools and smooth my dress. “I’ll be back soon.”
The guard waiting in the corridor is unfamiliar to me—tall, broad-shouldered, with the kind of unremarkable face that would disappear in a crowd. He inclines his head respectfully.
“Lady Astra. His Highness requests your immediate presence.”
“Where is he?”
“This way, my lady.”
We walk through corridors I know well now, past tapestries depicting ancient battles and portraits of long-dead royalty. But something feels off. We are not going in the direction of Lucian’s study or his private chambers. Instead, we’re heading toward parts of the palace I rarely visit.
“Where exactly are we going?” I ask, my steps slowing.
“The Prince is in the eastern wing, my lady. A private meeting.”
The eastern wing? That’s near the servants’ quarters, close to the external exits. Unease crawls up my spine like ice-cold fingers.
“I don’t understand. Why would he be—”
