The Human Among Wolves (Aurora) novel Chapter 273

Chapter 273

Cecilia

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The year unfolded quietly.

Not peacefully–nothing about secrecy ever truly was–but steadily, like a river choosing its course no matter how many stones tried to redirect it. My life divided itself into two worlds so seamlessly that sometimes I forgot which one I stood in. By day, I was Cecilia of the northern coven: dutiful, composed, careful with my magic. By night, or sometimes dawn, or the stolen hours between, I was

his. Theron’s. Loved without restraint, without questions, without conditions.

We learned each other in fragments. He learned the way I needed silence after casting, how my temper flared when I was afraid, how I touched his scars as if memorizing them. I learned the weight of kingship on his shoulders, how it followed him even into sleep, how sometimes he woke already braced for war. We never promised forever. We never had to. It lived in every look, every

return.

When my body changed, it felt almost… gentle.

No pain. No dread. Just a quiet shift, like the world settling into a truer alignment. I knew before the spell confirmed it–I only cast

it to hear the truth spoken aloud by magic itself. Life bloomed beneath my palm, fragile and undeniable. I laughed, then cried, then

sat there for a long time, stunned by the enormity of it.

I was carrying his child.

Joy filled me so completely it was almost blinding. I imagined telling him in his chambers, sunlight spilling across stone, his hand

frozen mid–motion as the words sank in. I imagined fear, yes–but awe too. Pride. Love sharpened into something fiercer. I wanted

to see that moment more than anything I had ever wanted.

But the timing never aligned.

Theron was busy–meetings, borders, alliances. I told myself I would wait just a little longer. A better moment. A safer one. I started

traveling east more often, planning to tell him face to face, unwilling to risk the truth carried by message or spell.

I told myself patience was a kind of protection.

Each journey east felt purposeful, hopeful, wrapped in anticipation rather than urgency. I walked familiar paths, brushed frost from

leaves, listened to the woods breathe around me as they always had. My magic remained calm, responsive, attuned to the steady

rhythm of my body. Nothing felt wrong. Nothing felt threatened. If anything, I felt more grounded than I had in years–anchored by

a future I could almost touch.

At the coven, I was careful without being secretive. There was no reason to be otherwise. Witches noticed changes, yes, but not

every change was suspicious. I was radiant, they said. Focused. Strong. I let them believe it was discipline, or peace, or the confidence that came with age. I kept my hand from lingering at my stomach when I thought too much about the life growing there. I kept my smile steady. I kept moving.

When I traveled east, it was always with the intention of returning before anyone noticed the hours slip too far. Sometimes I did see Theron–briefly, tenderly, stolen moments in corridors or quiet rooms where his guards knew better than to interrupt.

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Chapter 273

Sometimes I didn’t, and I told myself that was alright too. Kingship demanded more of him than it ever had. I understood that.

I never questioned the ease of the roads.

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I never questioned the way the forest seemed to open for me, or how often I found myself alone when I crossed certain stretches.

Solitude had always followed me like a familiar companion. It didn’t feel dangerous. It felt normal.

The day it happened, I woke with a strange lightness in my chest–not unease, just excitement sharpened by decision.

I was done waiting. Whatever the day demanded, whatever his schedule looked like, I would tell him. Even if it was clumsy. Even if

it came out wrong. I wanted to see his face when the truth reached him.

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