The Stand-in Mate

“All right, stop crying now. I’ll put salve on it.”

Kaiden’s voice softened as he brushed my hair back, his palm warm against my head in that familiar, almost careless affection. He rose to fetch the healer’s kit from the carved shelf by the wall.

“Honestly,” he muttered, half amused, “you’re already grown, Elyria Whitestone. Yet a little burn still makes you tear up. What would you do without me?”

Without looking at him, I stared at the raw mark on my wrist. The healer’s salve hadn’t even touched it yet—angry red against my skin like a reminder that pain, too, had chosen to stay.

Yes… I had been spoiled for seven winters under his care.

What would I do without him?

The thought should have comforted me.

It didn’t.

Quietly, beneath the weight of my wolf’s silence, I answered myself.

But Kaiden… I don’t want this anymore. Not this warmth that only exists when I am still useful to you.

That night, sleep refused me.

The moon hung pale outside my window, and I woke more than once, drenched in unease I could not name. My wolf paced beneath my skin, restless, unsettled by something I could not reach.

Just before dawn, the door of my chamber opened.

Kaiden.

He did not even wait for permission.

He pulled me up by the wrist. “Up,” he said lightly.

I groaned, trying to pull away. “It’s still night…”

He only chuckled, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to my lips as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

My breath caught. Instinct sharpened.

I almost struck him.

Almost.

When he pulled back, he looked entirely pleased with himself.

“Awake now, sleeping fawn?”

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, turning away in irritation. “It’s the rest day. Let me sleep.”

Kaiden sighed, but there was no real patience in it—only habit. “You had fever through the night. The healer said I should take you for a check with the clan physician.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re coming.”

So I went.

—

The stone corridors of the healer’s hall were cold, carved with old runes that hummed faintly under the touch of passing wolves. The air smelled of herbs, iron, and crushed moonleaf.

And then—

I felt her before I saw her.

Mirella.

My steps slowed without permission.

She stood near the bend of the corridor, pale and delicate, one foot barely touching the ground as she tried to steady herself.

Before I could even process it—

Kaiden moved.

The hand that had held mine moments ago released me without hesitation.

He crossed the distance in three strides and caught her before she fell.

“Mirella,” he said, voice tight, immediate. “What happened?”

She looked up at him, then—softly, deliberately—past him.

At me.

“It’s only a sprain,” she said gently, smiling as if nothing in the world had ever changed. “What a coincidence. You two came together?”

Kaiden hesitated.

Just for a heartbeat.

Then he turned slightly, as though remembering I still existed behind him.

“Ah,” he said, “my… little sister had a fever. I brought her in.”

Little sister.

The words landed cleanly, like a blade placed carefully between ribs.

I did not flinch.

I had learned not to.

Mirella nodded as if satisfied by the answer. “She’s staying with you, isn’t she? Then of course you must take care of her properly.”

She shifted, attempting to move again.

Kaiden didn’t even think.

He lifted her into his arms.

My wolf stirred once—low, warning.

“Let me carry you,” he said to Mirella, already walking. Then, over his shoulder, as if it cost him nothing at all:

“Elyria, wait here.”

And just like that—

he was gone.

No mind-link check.

No second glance.

No hesitation.

Only Mirella.

Only her scent.

Only her pain.

I leaned against the cold stone wall, letting the silence settle where my voice should have been.

Strangely… my strength left with him.

As if something in me had been quietly unfastened all along.

—

When I was finally examined, the healer’s expression darkened.

“Forty-one point three,” he muttered. “Moon’s mercy… this is no ordinary fever.”

The burn on my wrist had worsened. Infection had spread beneath the skin, fed by stress, by exhaustion, by something no salve could soothe.

“You need rest and infusion,” he said firmly. “Now.”

I nodded absently.

My hand moved on instinct toward the bone charm at my waist—to call him through mind-link, as I always had.

Kaiden.

The thought came easily.

Too easily.

I stopped.

My fingers hovered in the air, then slowly fell back to my side.

Habit.

That was all it was.

A dangerous, quiet habit of reaching for someone who no longer turned toward me when I called.

I let out a small, broken breath that almost passed for a laugh.

Then I stood.

Alone.

And walked toward the infusion chamber without looking back.