The Villain Alpha's Cursed Mate-Chapter 172: Are You Sick?

"Why are you in prison?" Esme finally asked, her voice soft but insistent. "You were in a really bad state earlier when the gaolers held you. Did you do something really bad? I don’t think I’ve seen Lennox so mad at anyone before."

She tilted her head, tapping her cheek lightly with one finger, as if deep in thought. "My father says prison cells are for people who do bad things and commit crimes," she continued thoughtfully, her tone serious. "But your cell... it’s huge, like it’s for some kind of monster. You’re not just a werewolf, are you? Are you something else?"

Her questions came rapid-fire, and her innocent determination, to Donovan, was both endearing and relentless. He couldn’t hide his surprise at all. This small girl, no more than seven, was interrogating him like a seasoned warrior, and yet, despite her youth, her tone carried an unsettling certainty that caught him off-guard.

"Something like that," he finally replied, his voice heavy with exhaustion. He leaned back against the cold stone wall, his reaction a mix of disbelief and resignation. "You should return, it’s late. You don’t want your family to start worrying and put up a missing notice. Thanks for your help, though."

"Will I see you again?" She asked softly , her small hands gripping the bars as if they were the only thing keeping her grounded. Her wide blue eyes searched his face, making her wonder if this would be their last meeting. "I won’t be staying in the palace for very long, but I’ll come visit when I can, okay?"

"How are you so good at talking to strangers? You shouldn’t be so quick to trust strangers," Donovan tilted his head, his brows knitting. "It can get you into serious trouble ’cause not everyone is nice. Some may have bad intentions. You know that, right?"

"But you don’t have any bad intentions," she said quickly. "You helped me when I got lost, even though you knew it could get you in trouble. That means you’re a good person, cause my father used to say that a lot of bad people don’t tell others to be wary of them."

She then smiled, "What’s your name?"

Donovan hesitated for a moment before responding, "Donovan."

"See you later, Don!" she chirped, already turning to leave. "I’ll come check on you tomorrow before I leave."

After waving goodbye, she darted off, her footsteps echoing down the dim corridor. He heard the heavy door push open, and Donovan hoped no one would spot her the minute she left. He finally reached for the bundle she tied in a cloth, and he felt the fruits that were tied inside.

"Strange kid," he muttered, shaking his head. But he didn’t put it down or reject it.

A week later, Esme tugged at her skirt as she hurried through the muddy patches to the back of the palace building. Her father had visited once again since he needed some of Illyria’s strongest warriors from the palace and had to oversee them before deciding which warrior would accompany him to war. Her father was a respected Alpha, so he had good relations with some of the Eastern packs, though not all, and if there was anyone her father could trust, it was using the late king’s warriors.

Since he was busy, with Lennox also attending to court matters and learning the procedures, as he is to become king soon, Esme snuck off to check on Donovan. She knew exactly where he would be, since the palace usually made him perform certain activities during the weekends.

After crossing to the open field, Esme stopped in her tracks as she caught sight of him. Donovan was assigned to push bricks for repairs, even when other prisoners didn’t have to do much at all.

He was currently busy hauling a cartwheel piled high with bricks, each one looking like it weighed as much as her. His arms strained under the weight, and the way his fingers gripped the handle so tightly, it made her wonder if it hurt. His boot squelched against the dirt, and the wheel creaked loudly with every step.

Sweat trickled down his face, making the dirt stick to his skin. Esme could hardly believe her eyes at first, cause he was clearly struggling, yet pulled through.

He eventually paused, dropping to his knees as he swiped his arm across his sweaty face. It was blistering hot, and the sun seemed more determined on roasting him alive. His leg had a collar that was used to prevent him from using his powers or reaching his wolf, and that was the only way they could get him to step out with the assurance that escape was inevitable.

He hated when he was right about such things.

Just when he was starting to push himself up, something— no, someone — landed on his back with a giggling squeal.

"Donovan!"

He froze at the mention of his name, startled, until the familiar voice surprised him.

"Esme?"

Sure enough, her little arms were wrapped tight around his neck, and he could feel her cheek squished against his shoulder. Realizing how grimy he was, he reached up to pat her hand gently.

"Esme, get down. I’m filthy."

"I missed you!" she chirped, her voice as bright as the sun blazing overhead. "Did you miss me?"

In her words, he felt it again — that warm, strange feeling she always brought with her. Throughout the week, he realized how deeply lonely he felt without anyone to talk to, or even confide in. Trapped in his own inescapable darkness, he found himself wondering if she’ll ever return.

She didn’t treat him like some monster. He couldn’t tell if it was due to naivety, or if she truly didn’t see him as a bad person, but it felt nice having her back again.

"Yeah," was his only response. It was too soft, so soft she barely heard it.

With a resigned sigh, he adjusted her weight on his back since she wouldn’t get down, and he started to pull again, the bricks clinking against each other.

Esme turned her head to peek at what he was doing, her eyes growing wide.

"Whoa," she whispered. "You’re carrying me and that?! Isn’t it abnormal for someone your age to be able to pull this off?" She asked, but he didn’t respond and just kept trudging forward, sweat dripping down his neck.

"Let me help!" She suddenly declared, noticing his struggle. Donovan immediately stopped, but before he could protest against that idea, she hopped down from his back and grabbed the handle of the cart. She pulled at it with all her might, her face scrunching up as she let out a dramatic groan of effort.

"I almost got it!" She groaned out as she continued to pull.

Donovan tilted his head. "Esme, you’re not—"

"Shh!" she huffed, cutting him off and tugging again. She wasn’t moving the cart an inch, but she was determined.

"You’ll hurt yourself," Donovan said, reaching for the handle. "I’m almost done, and I don’t want you to get your hands dirty."

"But I can do it!"

"Maybe you will, but not today," Donovan said with a small smirk as he ruffled her hair before turning back to his work.

Esme could do nothing but watch quietly as he hauled the heavy brick to a corner, where several others he had gathered were piled up. Sensing someone coming, Esme immediately hid behind a stack of stones, and as she peeked from where she hid, her eyes followed the gaoler whose sharp eyes scanned the area before approaching Donovan.

"Hey, monster boy," the gaoler barked. "There’s more bricks piled up on the other side. His Majesty wants every last one moved before noon. Maybe next time, if you ever get one, you’ll think twice before smashing up the palace."

Donovan didn’t reply, because he knew if he did, his punishment would be doubled, yet frustration gnawed at him. Once the gaoler left, he dropped to his knees.

"Why don’t y’all just fuckin’ kill me already instead of working me to death," he muttered, but got no satisfaction from it since he couldn’t say it to the gaoler’s face instead. It was obvious they planned on working him to death, and if he was able to die, at least he’d find his mother in the afterlife, and seek forgiveness.

His thoughts came to an abrupt halt when he heard someone darting towards him. Esme’s shoes scuffed the ground as she came to a stop beside him, her face set with determination.

"Give me your hand," she said, holding out her small fingers.

Donovan frowned, "What? Why?"

"Just do it," she insisted, wiggling her fingers impatiently.

Still confused, Donovan slowly lifted his hand, and she held it. His fingers were not only rough, but had several cuts that refused to heal. Closing her eyes, Esme scrunched her nose in concentration. In that moment, a faint, bluish glow began to shimmer around her, starting from her hair and spreading to her skin– a soft, radiant blue light.

The glow traveled through her hand and into Donovan’s, flowing through him like a gentle stream. Donovan immediately froze from the sensation, feeling his exhaustion lift as new energy surged through his body.

"There!" Esme chirped, letting go and patting his shoulder. "Do you feel better?"

"Wait... what... What did you do to me?" Donovan questioned in disbelief, flexing his fingers as if testing his renewed strength. "You did the same thing the first time we met... you healed me, but then..."

"It’s my power," she whispered, keeping her voice low. "You’re welcome."

"No... Esme, are you sick?" his expression softened for a moment, his brows furrowing as his voice betrayed his concern. "Are there no consequences for doing something like this? Passing your energy onto me is fatal."