*Nemesia's POV*

As the relentless downpour continued, the chill of the mountain air bit through my damp clothes, seeping into my bones. I was huddled in a makeshift shelter, a small, dirty cave that had offered us some respite from the storm. Within this crude refuge, I attended to Evar's wounds using the old remedies I knew—spiderweb which contains penicillium mould and some bread and my own saliva which would be nutrients which will allow penicillium to grow. In other words... a very effective and natural antibiotic. Primitive methods, perhaps, but ones I trusted.

The constant drumming of rain on the leafy canopy above was punctuated by the eerie howl of the wind, a haunting reminder of our precarious situation. Evar lay beside me, unconscious, his breathing ragged and uneven. Every pained grunt he issued twisted my heart, stirring a fierce protectiveness I hadn't known I possessed.

I had just applied the last of the medicine when the heavy silence of our solitude was shattered. Shadowed figures emerged at the cave entrance—five cloaked men, their faces obscured and weapons drawn in the dim light. My hand instinctively went to the dagger at my side as I stood, facing the intrusion with a wary eye.

"We mean no harm," the leader announced, his voice cautious, echoing slightly off the stone walls.

"So why would they point weapons at us..." Athen growled in the back of my mind.

"But you smell like a lycan..." When they finished, Athena had her answer.

I bared my teeth fiercely and tried to put myself between Evar and them.

His words hung heavy in the damp air, mingling with the scent of earth and rain. I eyed them warily, assessing our odds should this turn into a confrontation.

"We seek only shelter and no quarrel with you... My friend is... wounded. Bandits attacked us," I responded, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

After a tense moment where the only sounds were the storm outside and our labored breaths, the men relaxed slightly, their weapons lowering but not sheathed. The tension eased but didn't disappear.

One of them stepped forward, his cloak dripping with rainwater.

"Murphey," he introduced himself, a hint of recognition in his tone as he looked at Evar. "I know this man. We've crossed paths in less dire times. We'll help..."

With Murphey's acknowledgement, the group's demeanour shifted subtly. They approached their movements cautiously but no longer overtly threatening and carefully helped to move Evar, still unconscious and now shivering, onto a makeshift stretcher they quickly made. I was stiff and watched their every move. If they dared to hear Evar, I'd go wolfy on them for sure.

"Let's get him somewhere dry," Murphey suggested, and I nodded, following them as they navigated through the dense forest to their hidden encampment—a cluster of tents skillfully camouflaged between the rocks and trees, behind a small cave entrance. Well guarded and hidden place indeed.

As we arrived at the camp, I was met with suspicious glances and quiet murmurs and sniffs. The rebels watched my every move, their eyes sharp and assessing. Despite Murphey's offer of help, I was placed in a tent under guard, receiving food and necessities but little warmth or comfort from my hosts.

"Are we a guest or a prisoner?" Athena growled uneasy.

"Not sure but I hope they're taking care of Evar..."

The day bled into an evening, and with Evar still unconscious and the rebels' wariness palpable, I felt the walls of isolation closing in. But I was keeping calm. Evar needed help. I won't cause trouble... not now.

Murphey approached me as the sky darkened, his face with no emotions.

"We've done what we can for Evar," he said, breaking the silence that had settled between us. "But we need to understand your intentions here, and until then, precautions must be taken."

"Precautions?" I echoed, my voice cool. "Is that why I'm being treated more like a prisoner than a guest?"

Then it dawned on me.

"Wait... you are the rebels Evar told me about... We wanted to meet you" I stood up looking at the man.

"Yes, but this is just a small guarding post. There's still a long way to the main camp, and you're not getting anywhere near there until I make sure we can trust you... which may be difficult," his voice was rather cold.

"Oh? And why's that?" I said trying to rein in my temper and stay calm.

Murphey didn't flinch at my tone.

"You're a lycan and of royal blood. Our distrust might be inconvenient, but it's necessary. For us, it's a matter of survival."

His words stung, reminding me of the rift between my world and theirs.

"You know me..." I didn't mean it like a question.

"Yes. Nemesia... the supposed future queen..." His mockery was clear as day, as he left me alone again.

As night fell, the guard outside my tent escorted me to the nearby river for a chance to wash up—a small concession to my comfort. The river's cold water was a relief, washing away some of the day's grime and tension, but the guard's smell nearby reminded me of my precarious position.

*Evar's POV*

I awoke to a world of pain, each breath a sharp reminder of the battle's toll. My eyes fluttered open, revealing the dim interior of a roughly constructed tent. Murphey sat beside me, his face a canvas of concern as he noticed my consciousness returning.

"You gave us quite the scare," he murmured, offering me a cup filled with water drawn from the mountain's spring.

"Where's Nemesia?" My voice was hoarse, my thoughts immediately searching for her, piecing together the fragmented memories of the ambush.

"She's safe, for now," Murphey reassured me, a slight hesitation in his voice suggesting the complexity of our situation. "The men are wary, but she's being looked after."

The urge to see her, to confirm her safety with my own eyes, propelled me to attempt sitting up, despite the searing pain that protested my movements.

"I need to see her," I insisted, my voice a mix of worry and determination.

The man looked at me weirdly. We've known each other for a long time... I guess I've never been a person to cares for others and worries for others this much.

"Where is she?" I asked with pain in my voice.

Murphey offered his arm, helping me to my feet. We walked slowly, each step a calculated effort to avoid jarring my injuries. The chill of the evening air bit into my skin as we neared the river where Murphey had mentioned she'd be.

Approaching quietly, I caught sight of her through a break in the trees. Bathed in the soft silver of the moonlight, Nemesia stood at the river’s edge, her figure reflecting in the undulating surface. She was disrobing, her movements graceful and unhurried, revealing the smooth expanse of her back, the contours of her shoulders, and finally, the delicate structure of her waist. Her skin glowed under the celestial light, an ethereal sight that rooted me to the spot, hidden in the shadows.

Even with the scars covering her body, she was... breathtaking.

For a moment, everything else fell away—the pain, the cold, the looming threats of our predicament—it was just her, in her element, strong yet vulnerable. My heart thudded with a depth of emotion that was hard to name, tangled in loyalty, awe, and something far more dangerous.

When I saw the full swell of her breast... Gods I already saw her naked. It's nothing weird for shifters. But this... somehow... it was more intimate and exciting. It's like I can finally see her with my own two eyes.

"Peeping Tom" Ragnar snarled at me, but I couldn't stop myself.

I knew I shouldn't... I wished I could just go there, damn the clothes getting wet, and embrace her, tasting her skin. The mark of her fated mate at the back of her neck made my blood boil. How dare he reject such a gift from the heavens!