Chapter 3 The Date

Chapter Three: The Date

The sun hadn't even touched the edge of the mountains when Lyra sprang out of bed.

Her little cottage tucked behind the palace gardens was barely lit, but she moved like a girl possessed, singing softly, dancing barefoot across the wooden floor.

"He called my name... he called my name..."

She twirled in front of her mirror, holding a hairbrush like a flower. Her black curls bounced around her face, wild and soft. She'd already washed twice, once last night, once before dawn and now she stood in front of her wardrobe, biting her lower lip as she debated which dress made her look the most... mate worthy.

Eventually, she chose a soft pink linen dress with a ruffled hem and embroidery along the neckline, delicate white stitching that formed tiny moons and wolves. It was the one she'd secretly made to wear for her future mating ceremony. She told herself she was just "borrowing" it.

After all, today wasn't punishment. It was a date.

Lyra pulled on her favorite sandals, polished leather with silver beads on the straps and added a spritz of vanilla blossom perfume behind her ears. Then she turned to her walls.

They were covered in him.

Sketches she'd drawn from memory. Some gifted to her by palace artists she bribed with baked bread. One of him with his sword drawn, painted in watercolor. Another, a side profile where his eyes looked like liquid gold under the moonlight. A close up of his hand wrapped in bandage after battle.

Each one had a handwritten caption.

"The protector of my heart."

"My future."

"His silence speaks louder than any words."

"Alpha of my soul."

She touched her favorite, a charcoal sketch of him training shirtless in the courtyard and whispered, "I'll see you soon."

"You're insane," Aria said flatly, watching her twirl outside the door with a basket of dried towels and fruit. "Absolutely, gloriously insane."

Lyra grinned. "It's my first date with Prince Ronan. Of course I am!"

Aria squinted. "You do realize you're not going to a picnic. You're going to serve him and his testosterone ridden war dogs while they splash around shirtless and mock your life."

Lyra gasped in delight. "Shirtless? Truly?"

Aria gave up with a groan as they made their way down the path toward the stream.

***

The forest clearing near the river was already loud with movement when they arrived.

Half a dozen royal warriors were lounging near the banks. Some shirtless, others waist deep in water, tossing wet rocks or wrestling playfully. Their howls of laughter echoed through the trees. Their muscles glistened, their tattoos bared, their power nearly tangible in the morning air.

Lyra's breath caught.

But none of them mattered.

Because he was there.

Ronan stood at the river's edge, arms folded, black tunic unbuttoned and sleeves rolled to the elbows. He was barefoot, and his legs were damp from the knees down. His hair was pushed back with water, slick and wild. He didn't look at her. Didn't even acknowledge her presence.

But she still smiled like the moon had risen just for her.

Aria nudged her. "Please don't faint. Or drool. Or propose."

"I won't," Lyra whispered, adjusting her dress nervously. "Unless he asks me first."

The moment they crossed the invisible line into the warriors' domain, one of them shouted, "Well, well, look who's early. The Luna of Towels!"

The others laughed.

Lyra flushed, hugging the basket to her chest, trying to look anywhere but at them.

Another warrior, older and broader, tilted his head mockingly. "She looks more like a flower girl than a servant. What's she carrying...roses?"

Lyra opened her mouth to speak, but Ronan's voice cut across the stream.

"She's not here to talk," he said.

Everyone fell silent.

Ronan turned, his golden eyes cool and unreadable. "She's here to serve. Nothing else."

The words struck her like a slap.

Her smile faltered but only for a second.

She dropped to her knees beside a flat rock, began laying out the towels, pouring water from her jug into tin cups, trying to pretend she hadn't just been degraded in front of half the kingdom.

Aria stood stiffly a few feet away, arms crossed, jaw clenched.

Lyra offered the first cup to a nearby warrior with a shaky smile.

"You look happy," the man said with a smirk. "You enjoy this kind of thing?"

Lyra's cheeks burned, but she shook her head. "I enjoy helping."

Another laughed. "Bet she enjoys watching too."

"She probably watches him sleep."

"She probably has his hair in a jar."

"Enough." Ronan's voice again...calm, low, and final.

The teasing stopped immediately.

He walked forward then, picking up one of the tin cups she'd poured, and for one breathtaking second their fingers brushed.

Lyra froze.

Her heart exploded.

And then he dropped the cup.

Deliberately.

It splashed all over her dress, soaking the embroidery. Her sandals. Her skin.

"Oh..." she gasped, clutching the wet fabric. "I...let me clean that..."

"Don't bother," he said flatly. "You'll be wet all day anyway."

The warriors chuckled quietly behind him.

He turned from her without another word and walked into the stream, stripping off his tunic and tossing it onto a rock. Muscles rippled down his back like sculpted marble.

Lyra sat there, soaked and red faced, blinking back tears and... smiling.

Aria crouched beside her. "Do you still think this is a date?"

Lyra whispered, "Yes."

Aria exhaled. "You're going to die of humiliation before this moon cycle ends."

Lyra hugged her knees and stared into the water, eyes shining.

"He touched me," she said softly.

Aria groaned.

Lyra giggled to herself, whispering under her breath.

"Only a fool punishes a girl by putting her closer to the man she loves."

And even as her dress clung to her skin and the warriors howled behind her, Lyra Hale smiled like her whole world had just begun.