Chapter 56: You Were Supposed to Be Difficult

Naya woke slowly, warmth pressed against her side, and for a moment she simply let herself exist in it before opening her eyes. Ronan was already awake, propped on one elbow, watching her.

“How long have you been staring?” she asked.

“I wasn’t staring.”

“You were absolutely staring.”

“I was thinking.”

“With your eyes open and pointed directly at my face.”

He gave her a dry look that didn’t quite mask the faint curve of his mouth. “That’s an unfair characterization.”

Naya laughed, the sound easy in a way she hadn’t expected it to be this morning. “You’re terrible at lying.”

He pulled her closer instead of arguing the point, and the kiss that followed was unhurried, settling something in her chest that she hadn’t known needed settling. She wasn’t lying there wondering whether he regretted the night before, wasn’t bracing herself for distance or cold withdrawal the way old instincts might have warned her to. She felt, lying beside him in the quiet morning light, less like the replacement bride who’d been shoved into Elara’s wedding dress and more like someone who’d simply chosen to be here.

Not claimed. Chosen.

“We have responsibilities,” she reminded him eventually, though she made no move to actually get up.

“We could postpone breakfast.”

“You’re the Lycan King.”

“Being King should come with certain privileges.”

“Abandoning the Moon Court because you don’t want to leave bed isn’t one of them.”

Ronan studied her for a moment. “You were much easier to deal with when you hated me.”

“You preferred me then?”

“No,” he said, immediately, too fast.

Naya caught it instantly and laughed outright, delighted by how quickly the denial had come, how little thought it had required.

A sharp knock interrupted before either of them could continue, and Ronan’s expression shifted into open irritation at whoever had chosen this particular moment to need him.

By the time they made it to breakfast, Kael was already seated, mid-reach for a piece of fruit, and he froze the moment he took in the scene before him. Ronan, relaxed. Naya, smiling. The two of them sitting closer together than usual.

“Well,” Kael said slowly. “This is unsettling.”

“What?” Ronan asked.

“You’re pleasant.”

Naya nearly choked on her tea trying not to laugh.

“Eat your breakfast,” Ronan said.

“Did someone replace my brother overnight?” Kael asked, leaning forward with exaggerated concern. “Should I be worried?”

Ronan gave him a look that had clearly silenced lesser men in council chambers.

“There he is,” Kael said, grinning.

Naya laughed openly now, and Kael immediately swung his pointed finger toward her. “You’re encouraging him.”

“She’s encouraging you,” Ronan said.

“She’s my sister-in-law,” Kael said. “I’m allowed to corrupt her.”

The easy claim settled something in Naya’s chest, the casual certainty of it, as though her place in this family had never been in question at all.

Kael kept at it through most of breakfast, teasing Ronan about seeming unusually distracted, about smiling at his plate like it had personally said something kind to him, until Ronan finally threatened to have him removed from the room entirely.

“You say that every morning,” Kael said, unbothered, reaching for another piece of fruit.

Naya realized, watching the exchange, that this wasn’t new. This was simply how the two of them were, had probably always been, long before she’d arrived to witness it.

Later that morning, Naya held an audience with representatives from two neighboring territories, the conversation turning quickly to the relief-distribution route she’d implemented weeks earlier. One of the representatives raised a legitimate concern, and rather than becoming defensive, Naya asked careful questions until she understood the actual problem. The new route benefited one territory while creating unexpected delays for a smaller settlement nearby.

“We’ll adjust the schedule temporarily,” she said. “Report back after the next delivery cycle, and we’ll make the change permanent if it solves the issue.”

Ronan sat beside her throughout, saying nothing, letting her carry the entire conversation without interference. Once the representatives had gone, he turned to her.

“You handled that well,” he said.

“Is that the King speaking?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She waited. “And?”

He gave her a look that softened the edges of his usual composure. “And your husband.”

The distinction landed differently than it once would have, warm rather than confusing, and she smiled at him without needing to say anything further.

Ronan walked with her afterward, though his own office sat in the opposite direction entirely.

“Your office isn’t this way,” Naya said.

“I know.”

She stopped walking. He stopped beside her.

“Then why are you following me?”

He considered, for a brief moment, offering some practical excuse. Instead he said, simply, “I wanted more time with you.”

The honesty caught her off guard, warm and unguarded in a way that still surprised her coming from him. She stepped closer and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

“You could have just said that.”

“I’m learning,” he said.

“Slowly.”

“You’re difficult.”

“And yet you followed me.”

“Unfortunately,” he said, though the word carried no real complaint in it at all.

Naya laughed, and Ronan looked at her with the kind of quiet softness that had become familiar over the past several weeks, something she no longer questioned or doubted.

Later that afternoon, Kael found her alone near the gardens, entirely casual as he fell into step beside her.

“Has he been insufferable today?” he asked.

“Constantly,” Naya said.

Kael nodded with obvious satisfaction. “Good. That means he’s healthy.”

She laughed, and he launched into a story about Ronan as a younger brother, something about an old Moonball match where Ronan had refused to admit losing for three full days, insisting the final goal hadn’t counted because of some technicality he’d invented entirely on the spot.

“He takes everything too seriously,” Kael said. “Always has. I think it’s part of why he’s good at being King. Terrible for actually enjoying anything, though.”

Naya listened, realizing there was an entire version of Ronan she’d never known, one that existed only in Kael’s memory, carried forward through years of brotherhood neither of them seemed to need words to maintain. The thought settled something warm in her chest, strengthening a bond she hadn’t expected to find so easily in this palace.

That evening, Naya found Ronan in their private sitting room and told him, with obvious enjoyment, that Kael had shared an embarrassing story about him.

“What story?” Ronan asked immediately.

“I’m not telling you.”

“I’ll ask him myself.”

“He won’t tell you,” Naya said. “He’s afraid of you now.”

Ronan laughed, the sound rare enough that she treasured it every time she heard it.

The mood settled into something quieter afterward, and Naya said, watching him, “I like seeing you with him.”

“Why?”

“You look different around Kael. Less like the King.”

“More like Ronan,” he said, finishing the thought for her.

“Yes.”

“He’s my little brother,” Ronan said. “He’s always been the one person who doesn’t care that I’m King.”

“Maybe that’s why you need him.”

Ronan looked at her for a long moment, something shifting behind his expression. “Maybe I need you too.”

Naya didn’t push the weight of the words further, didn’t ask him to clarify or expand on what he meant. She simply reached for his hand, and when he kissed her a moment later, there was no fear behind it, no jealousy, no mystery pressing down on either of them.

Just the two of them, choosing this, together.