Chapter 241
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241
Once, in the Ebonclaw Pack, Riley had been forced under Ronan Duskcliff’s command to kneel before Tessa of the Blackmaw Pack’s sickbed and kowtow until her forehead split open and bled. The thick white bandage that covered her injury had been glaringly obvious, yet not a single member of the Ebonclaw Pack had spared her a glance.
Now, her eyes were merely red and faintly swollen from crying, yet the elderly Matriarch Duskgrave spotted the difference instantly.
Riley drew in a slow breath, forcing back the wave of hot emotion threatening to spill over. She lifted her face into a gentle smile and explained lightly, “A gust of wind blew some grit into my eyes just now. I rubbed them for a while, that’s all.”
The Matriarch’s shoulders eased with relief. Riley’s body was fragile-she always feared that some wolf without sense or manners might try to bully her. But even a grain of sand in the eye could cause harm. She quickly turned to Mrs. Beck. “Bring the eye drops.”
“Grandmother, I’m fine, truly.”
The Matriarch ignored her protests, pulling Riley down onto the sofa with an unyielding gentleness and making her rest her head upon her lap. Her arms cradled Riley’s slight frame, protective and warm-like she would hold her own granddaughter.
The wolf in Riley stirred with a small, instinctive sound of contentment, her nose catching the faint, soothing scent of elder-blood pack warmth. She almost broke then, almost let the tears fall.
Before they could spill, the Matriarch tilted the small bottle, and a cool drop touched Riley’s eye. Under that cover, her tears finally escaped, slipping freely down her temple.
“What’s wrong?” the Matriarch asked sharply, concern flashing like a defensive snarl.
Mrs. Beck and Mia moved closer, three sets of eyes fixed on Riley.
She gave a small, light laugh. “The drops are just cold.”
“Ah…” The Matriarch exhaled slowly. “Be good. Just bear with it until I’m finished.”
Riley smiled and kept her gaze steady on the older woman. Each drop slid down her cheek, mingled with the salt of her own tears.
The Matriarch frowned. “Why do they keep running out?”
“Maybe my eyes don’t absorb water,” Riley teased softly.
That drew a small chuckle from the older wolf. “You always know how to make me smile.”
Riley closed her eyes, hiding the turbulence inside her. She slid her arms around the Matriarch’s waist.
“Because you’re so good to me,” she murmured. I want you happy every day. Even if I’m gone… you
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mustn’t grieve. Wolves survive without their own, and you will too. As for Lucien… he’s a good man. He’ll find someone better suited than me. I’m only a brief shadow in his life.
She pressed her face into the warmth of the Matriarch’s lap, letting that steady, protective heartbeat soothe the restless ache inside her chest.
Feeling her cling like that melted the Matriarch’s heart into something soft and unguarded. She stroked Riley’s back. “Grandmother also wants you to be happy every day.”
“Mhm,” Riley’s voice was muffled, almost drowsy.
“Did you tire yourself out playing outside?”
“A little.”
“Then rest here.” The Matriarch made no move to release her.
Half-sprawled in the elder’s lap, Riley’s frail body-unfit for the endless stamina of a healthy wolf-began to yield to exhaustion. Under the soothing rhythm of the Matriarch’s touch, she drifted into a light, vulnerable sleep.
Only when she was deeply under did the Matriarch gently ease her head onto a cushion. Mia moved quickly, covering her with a light blanket.
The three women-Matriarch Duskgrave, Mrs. Beck, and Mia-stood in silence for a long moment, watching Riley’s peaceful face, before stepping away with quiet, padded footsteps, like wolves leaving a sleeping pup undisturbed.
“Matriarch, what shall we prepare for dinner? The young master will be back soon,” Mrs. Beck asked.
The Matriarch’s gaze softened on Riley. “Cooking will wake her. Better to order food for Lucien tonight.”
Mrs. Beck blinked. “…Takeout?” She doubted the Alpha prince of Stormridge had ever touched such a thing.
“And for Miss Riley?” she asked.
The Matriarch turned to Mia. “Riley loves your porridge. It’s gentle on the stomach. Cook some millet porridge-quietly.”
Once again, the depth of the Matriarch’s favoritism toward Riley shocked the two household wolves. Yet, rather than resent it, they welcomed it.
When Lucien Duskgrave returned, the household gathered at the table.
Before Riley sat a steaming bowl of thick, golden millet porridge, the grains broken down into a smooth, fragrant cream. The Matriarch had even asked Mia to steam her a delicate egg custard.
In contrast, Lucien’s place was set with four rich, heavy dishes-oily, salty, and high in heat. Even the rice looked dry and unappetizing, its lack of sheen standing in stark difference to Riley’s gentle, nourishing meal.
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8:15 pm SDD