The Alpha Weredragon's Favorite
CHAPTER 33 - Bonded Apology

Lyra

I'd built a strange routine around these visits, balancing my need for answers with my studies. I'd do my homework, sitting outside his cell, asking him to give his take on shifter-lore or the correct herbs used to cure an ingestion of wolfsbane. He'd always been quiet, even back in Wolfsong Academy. Aloof, but not cruel like the rest of the pack members, That was why it was so shocking when he'd blurted out my secret so readily. It was like seeing a different person entirely. I approached Jacques' cell, my usual enthusiasm losing gas. I had to admit, I was beginning to not see the point of continuing to visit him.

"Hey, Jacques. How are you doing today?" I asked, settling down on the cold stone floor outside his cell. He didn't respond, his eyes fixed on the wall opposite him.

Although he wore clothes given to him from the rag bin, he was still a proud and handsome man. And I had to admit that before Blake, I had a crush on him. There was a brooding intensity to him, a pensive nature that set him apart from the boisterous, aggressive males I'd grown up with. While they acted out, he would sit silently, observing, his blue eyes flickering with an unreadable emotion. For a time, I was drawn to that quiet strength...

It all seemed so silly now, a childish infatuation compared to the depth of my feelings for Ryan. They were a kin to a consuming fire. One that left me aching for more, even as it threatened to burn me alive.

"I brought you some muffins," I said, holding out the basket between the steel bars. "I made them fresh during my break. Eat them while they are warm."

He turned his head, brown hair tumbled into his blue eyes. "Why are you doing this?" he asked, suspicion riding every word.

I shrugged, trying to keep my voice light and casual. "Just trying to be friendly. Besides, I could use some company while I study."

He scoffed, turning away again. "Don't waste your time. I'm not interested in your pity."

I sighed, leaning back against the wall. "It's not pity, Jacques. I'm genuinely curious about you. You were never like the others back in Wolfsong. You never joined in on the torment."

He remained silent, but I could see a flicker of something in his eyes. Curiosity? Regret? It was hard to tell.

"I'm taking this class on shifter lore," I continued, opening my textbook. "It's fascinating, but I could use some insight from someone who's actually lived it. What do you think about the different interpretations of the moon goddess's influence on wolf transformations?"

He finally turned to face me, a hint of interest in his eyes. "The moon goddess is a fickle mistress," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "She gives and takes as she pleases. Some wolves are blessed with her favor, while others are cursed." I nodded, intrigued. "What do you think makes the difference?"

He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. "Strength. Loyalty. The will to survive."

I smiled, encouraged by his willingness to engage. "That's interesting. I've been reading about the different herbs used to treat wolfsbane poisoning. Do you have any experience with that?"

He nodded slowly. "Yes. I've seen it used many times. It's a painful death."

I shivered, imagining the agony of being poisoned by wolfsbane. "What's the most effective cure?"

He hesitated again, then said, "There is no cure. Only a way to ease the suffering."

I frowned, disappointed. "So there's no hope for someone who's been poisoned?"

He looked at me, his eyes filled with a strange sadness. "There's always hope, Lyra. But sometimes, the only way to replace it is to face the darkness head-on."

I swallowed thickly, wondering if he was talking about more than just wolfsbane poisoning. Was he talking about the darkness that had consumed him, that had turned him into the monster who had attacked me in the woods? I wanted to ask him, to delve deeper into his past and understand what had led him down this path.

Before I could, he surprised me by coming closer and kneeling against the bars. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his hands gripping the cold metal. "Volunteering to come to Moonshadow... to say what I did... it was wrong. You were never what they made you out to be. I can see that now."

I hesitated, the words caught in my throat. I didn't want to break the fragile trust we'd built, but the question burned within me. "Jacques," I began, struggling to get the words out, deathly afraid of his answer, "who... who sent you?"

His eyes went distant and glassy, like shutters had closed behind them. "I can not say," he said flatly, the words sounding rehearsed and hollow.

Without warning, his body crumpled. He sank to the cold stone, trembling as sobs wracked his frame. Anguished tears carved rivers down his cheeks. Slowly, he raised his head, raw desperation bleeding from his eyes as they found mine. "Please," he choked out, "forgive me." With a shudder, he bared his throat to me, the ultimate gesture of submission and surrender.

I stared shocked at his display. What was he seeking forgiveness for? And what dark power had compelled him to commit an act that filled him with such soul-deep remorse?

Despite all the trouble he'd caused, I felt pity for him. I reached through the bars and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I'll speak to Ryan on your behalf," I promised. "I'll ask for leniency."

His eyes widened in shock, amazement replacing the despair that had clouded them moments before. "Why would you do that for me?" he asked, his voice betraying his surprise.

I smiled sadly, remembering the lessons I'd learned from my own struggles. "Because a heart filled with bitterness can never see the joys of life," I told him. "Forgiveness is the path to healing. For both of us."

It was time for me to go of what happened between Ryan and me. How could I move forward in my new life if I kept clinging to the ugliness of the old one?