Sold as the Alpha King's Breeder-Chapter 1499 - 98 : A Happy Reunion
*Saoirse*
The pounding of my heart matched the frenzied rhythm of my boots across the sand as I weaved through the throng of bodies, one hand to my belly and the other not-so-gently moving people out of my way. The arena was alive with the electric aftermath of combat. Their cheers and shouts were a far cry from the jeers they had thrown at my husband not too long ago.
Finally, I cleared the crowd and found myself at the edge of the arena. And, there, in the center, beneath the banners fluttering in the wind, stood Malcolm. Beside him was my husband, proud and unharmed.
The relief I felt was overwhelming. A part of me feared that last kiss was the very last. These men had been out for blood, glory, and triumph.
"Rhys!" My voice tore from my throat as I sprinted to where he stood. His gaze found mine as I neared, a silent storm of emotions swirling within the depths of his eyes. It would seem I wasn’t the only one who had feared the worst.
My husband, my prince, heir to the throne of Egoren, wrapped me in his arms and held me tightly. He buried his face in my hair and breathed in deeply. If his hands trembled slightly, no one was there to witness it but me.
"Malcolm has done it," Rhys murmured, more to himself than to anyone else.
As Malcolm turned, Rhys moved forward and embraced his cousin, a man who had spent years trying to rip the throne out from under him. Their embrace was a symbol stronger than any coronation—the unity of blood and loyalty. This man, this fierce warrior, stood by his prince without hesitation. Propelled by relief, I joined them.
My arms wound around them both, my belly only slightly getting in the way. Tears streamed down my face as we held each other at the center of the bloodied arena.
"Thank you," I whispered into the fabric of their tunics, my voice muffled and thick with emotion. "Thank you for surviving."
"Survival is only the beginning, Saoirse," Rhys replied, his voice steady yet tinged with the residue of hardship. "Now, we rebuild and heal."
Around us, the crowd’s jubilation pitched higher. Their jeers against the crippled, crazy prince were now hailing Rhys as much more than a survivor. He was their future, their promised leader, their choice. It shouldn’t have been necessary, but it was comforting to hear their affirmation that the crown was his by right and by valor.
"Look at them, Saoirse," Rhys breathed, pulling back slightly to meet my gaze. "They believe in me... because of this... because of him." He nodded toward Malcolm, whose grin outshone even the gleam of victory on his brow.
"Let’s not disappoint them," I said, the edges of my smile breaking through the tears. Rhys nodded and took my hand.
My attention shifted as medics swarmed the center, their hands quick and efficient as they tended to Malcolm’s battle-worn frame. Through the shuffle of bodies, I caught sight of a familiar figure—Aine. Her movements were hesitant yet determined as she wove her way through the crowd to Malcolm’s side.
"Malcolm, you absolute fool," she scolded, her voice barely audible over the din. Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for a cloth and shooed the medics away before dabbing at a fresh scrape that marred his cheek. "Every time, you push too far. What if–"
"Ah, Aine, but what is life without a little risk?" Malcolm interrupted, the corner of his mouth lifting into that roguish grin I knew all too well. He winced as she applied an ointment with more force than necessary, but his eyes never left hers.
"Reckless heroics will be the death of you one day," Aine admonished, though her hands betrayed her, gentle despite her words.
"Then consider every scar a testament to my survival," he retorted, a chuckle in his voice.
Aine huffed, her gaze flickering down to avoid his but not before I saw the glimmer of unshed tears. She was scared for him. That much was clear. The healer in her wanted to mend more than just flesh. It was the fear in her heart that she sought to soothe.
"Stubborn man," she muttered under her breath, her touch lingering on his skin a moment longer than necessary.
"Only for you," Malcolm said, his hand reaching up to cup her cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear that had escaped.
In a swift motion that caught us both by surprise, Malcolm pulled her down to him, sealing her protests with a kiss that spoke volumes more than any playful banter could. Aine stiffened for a fraction of a second before melting into the embrace, her hands dropping the medicinal supplies with a clatter that went unnoticed in their small bubble of the world.
I stood there, warmth blooming in my chest at the sight even as shock settled in. Malcolm’s audacity might have bordered on recklessness, but in that moment, it was clear that his bravery was matched only by the depth of his affection.
The kiss broke too soon, leaving Aine flushed and breathless, a look of dazed happiness dancing in her eyes. Malcolm’s grin remained, triumphant and tender, as if he’d won a prize far greater than any crown or title—the heart of the woman before him.
I stepped away from Rhys and toward my childhood friend, Aine. Her eyes caught mine, wide and shimmering with unshed tears that mirrored my own. We closed the distance between us in a few hurried steps, and then we were in each other’s arms, clutching at each other.
"Oh, Aine," I whispered, feeling the tremble in my friend’s slender frame. "I’ve missed you more than words can tell."
"Me too, Saoirse. Me too," she replied, her voice muffled against my shoulder. The months of chaos and miles of separation—they melted away in the warmth of our embrace.
Our laughter and sobs mingled as we continued to embrace and spoke over each other in our eagerness to catch up. We pulled back, hands still clasped, and I saw in her eyes the same fierce determination that had ignited in my soul. We were no longer just girls from the same village. We were warriors shaped by our experiences, connected by an unbreakable bond. And, apparently, connected to two men tied to the throne of Egoren.
As Aine turned to tend to Malcolm again, I watched them and felt a swell of gratitude. I crossed to Malcolm, whose presence had only ever angered me. Even still, I wondered if there was some game he was playing. His eyes met mine, and I saw something there that gave pause to my heart—the glint of genuine valor. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺
"Malcolm," I said, my voice steady despite the emotion that laced every word. "Thank you. You fought for Rhys, for all of us, with such... such honor."
His smile was slow, almost shy. As I hugged him—a hug filled with sincerity and newfound respect—I felt his arms come around me cautiously and protectively. "It was nothing, Saoirse. For family, for Rhys, I’d face any danger."
I drew back, looking up into his face. I saw past the bravado and the schemes to the loyalty that burned fiercely beneath. He had risked everything for the man who would be king, for the tribe that was his legacy. At that moment, I understood Malcolm in a way I never had before.
"Truly, thank you," I murmured, stepping away but keeping that newfound knowledge close like a treasured secret shared between two souls finally recognizing each other’s worth.
Malcolm’s gaze lingered on me a moment longer, an unreadable expression playing across his features. His lips quirked into that crooked smile I’d learned to associate with mischief and surprise.
"Then maybe," he said, his voice steady but tinged with something I couldn’t quite place, "you can help me by finding a venue for my wedding."
The words hung in the air like a spell. Before I could even process them, Malcolm was on one knee, his gaze locked onto Aine. The arena, still echoing with the aftermath of victory, seemed to hush in anticipation.
Aine’s hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide pools reflecting the torchlight. I watched, frozen as a myriad of emotions danced over her face—shock, joy, disbelief—all converging into a bright, overwhelming delight.
"Malcolm," she breathed out, her voice barely audible over the throbbing silence.
"Will you, Aine of Hunters Glen, honor me, your ever-foolish warrior, by becoming my mate?" His voice was imbued with a warmth and sincerity I had never heard from him before.
Tears glistened at the corners of Aine’s eyes like dew catching the first light of dawn. She nodded, the movement jerky with emotion. "Yes! Oh, yes, Malcolm!"
And then she was flying into his arms, their embrace tight and filled with a love so deep. I felt tears prick in my own eyes.
Rhys, who had been standing a little way off now strode forward. His steps were measured, the weight of his future crown never far from his bearing, but his eyes shone with genuine happiness.
"Let this union be blessed," Rhys said, his deep voice carrying the authority of his lineage. "May it be as enduring as the mountains and as pure as the rivers of Egoren."
He placed a hand on each of their shoulders, his nod solemn yet full of the promise of celebration. It was more than just a blessing. It was an acknowledgment of the ties that bound us all together—the fierce loyalty of a pack and the unspoken oaths of family.
The crowd, sensing the shift in the air, erupted into cheers again. And I, standing close to the heart of it all, knew that this was a moment of change.
"If I may be so bold," Malcolm began, his eyes flickering to Rhys and then to me, "I was hoping for your blessing on our mating ceremony. Would you consider hosting our wedding here in the glorious Egoren Royal Palace?"
My heart swelled at his words.
Rhys stepped forward, the light of approval in his gaze. His nod came easy and genuine. "Of course," he said warmly, extending his hand to Malcolm. They clasped hands firmly.
"Nothing would honor us more than to host your ceremony," Rhys added, his smile broadening.
I couldn’t contain my excitement and darted to Aine’s side, throwing my arms around her. We squealed together, jumping up and down like we were children again, lost in a maze of giddiness. "Can you believe it? A royal wedding!"
Aine hugged me back just as tightly, her laughter bubbling through the air, pure and infectious. "It’s going to be beautiful, Saoirse. With you helping, it will be perfect."
"Perfect," I echoed, already picturing the palace gardens blooming under a touch of celebration, the halls echoing with music and laughter. This was more than just a wedding. It was hope and a bright future unfurling before us all.
