Chapter Twenty One:

The midday sun streamed through the arched windows of Kaelen's private dining room, bathing the space in a warm, golden glow. Elara sat opposite him, a delicate porcelain plate before her piled high with roasted pheasant, glazed carrots, and fluffy, herbed couscous. But her appetite was a shy thing, easily frightened.

Kaelen watched her, his usually playful emerald eyes clouded with concern. "Elara, you need to eat. For them," he murmured, gesturing lightly towards her stomach.

She picked listlessly at the pheasant with her fork. "I'm not very hungry." The words were barely a whisper. The ghost of Damon's cutting remarks about her thickening waistline lingered in her mind, a poisonous echo.

Kaelen's jaw tightened. He knew the torment her mate inflicted, the constant chipping away at her spiri……