Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother novel Chapter 83

Chapter 83: Chapter 83

Elara’s POV

“What happened to me?”

The words came out shredded. Barely more than breath shaped into sound. My throat felt like I’d swallowed broken glass.

Kaelen’s grip on my hand tightened. He straightened in the chair slowly, as though his body had forgotten how to move without pain. He wiped his face with the back of his free hand. The gesture was rough. Unself-conscious. He didn’t seem to care about the tears still drying on his stubbled jaw.

“You collapsed,” he said. His voice was hoarse too. Wrecked in a different way than mine—not from disuse, but from strain. From days of talking to someone who couldn’t answer. “In the field medical tent. After healing the last knight.”

The memories surfaced in fragments. Hands pressed against torn flesh. The smell of blood and smoke. Light pouring from my palms. Screaming. Was the screaming mine? I couldn’t remember.

“The knights,” I rasped. “Are they—”

“Every single one.” He caught my gaze and held it. Steady despite the redness of his eyes. “All of them survived. Full recovery. Because of you.”

Something loosened in my chest. A knot I hadn’t known I was carrying.

“How long?” I asked.

Kaelen’s jaw flexed. He glanced at the physician, who stood near the foot of the bed clutching his scrolls like a lifeline. The old man gave a small, careful nod.

“You’ve been unconscious,” Kaelen said slowly, “for ten days.”

Ten days.

The number landed like a stone dropped into still water. Ripples of understanding spread outward. Ten days of this sterile medical wing. Ten days of Kaelen in that chair, wearing the same wrinkled clothes, not sleeping, not eating properly. Ten days of monitoring crystals humming their blue rhythm above my still body.

“Ten—” I started.

“Don’t.” His hand came up, palm toward me. Not commanding. Pleading. “Don’t apologize. Don’t you dare apologize for saving all those lives.”

I closed my mouth.

The physician stepped forward. He moved with the deliberate care of someone navigating a room full of sharp edges. His silver healing amulet glinted in the crystal light as he bowed his head.

“Miss Elara,” he said. His voice was warm but measured. Professional. “I am Court Physician Whitmore. I have been overseeing your care during your recovery.”

I tried to nod. Even that small motion sent the room tilting.

“Your body experienced an extraordinary expenditure of life energy,” Whitmore continued. He set his scrolls on the bedside table and folded his hands. “Frankly, the volume of healing power you channeled should have been fatal. The fact that you survived is remarkable. The reason your body required such an extended period to rebuild itself is because it was actively protecting—”

The door crashed open.

All three of us flinched. Whitmore dropped a scroll. Kaelen’s hand went instinctively to his side where a weapon would be.

Brenna stood in the doorway.

Her dark hair was a disaster—half escaped from a braid that looked like it had been slept on repeatedly. Her eyes were swollen. Red. She stood frozen for a heartbeat, her chest heaving, one hand still gripping the door handle so hard the wood creaked.

Then she saw my open eyes.

The sound she made was not a word. It was something between a gasp and a wail—raw and high and broken with relief. She crossed the room in a few quick strides. Her arms came around me before I could draw breath to speak. Carefully—she was careful, I could feel the restraint trembling through her muscles—but desperately. She buried her face against my shoulder and sobbed.

“Ela.” Her voice was muffled against my linen shift. “You absolute—reckless—stupid—brave—”

“Brenna,” I whispered. My hand found her hair. Tangled. Unwashed. She smelled like strong tea and sleeplessness. “I’m sorry.”

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