Chapter 48: Bedside Banter

"You were not dying." Lysander replied to Orion dryly.

"You sure about that?" Orion asked him with a raised eyebrow. "Cause it sure feels like I just came back from the dead."

"If you don’t shut up, I’m going to send you straight to the underworld." Lysander told him with a glare.

Orion mimed zipping up his lips and slumped on the cot, the lantern’s flicker dancing across his pale face, as he fought the pounding in his head from Lysander’s lecture. The best thing he could do now was to escape.

He swung his legs over the side, grimacing as pain shot through him, but he pushed through and muttered, "I’m out of here."

Lysander’s glare hit him like a brick wall, sharp and unyielding, pinning him mid-motion.

Orion froze, his pride deflating, and dropped back onto the cot, pretending to fuss with the linen. "Just checking if these sheets are clean," he grumbled, smoothing them with exaggerated care, his face a mask of forced nonchalance.

Ronan, lurking nearby, bit his lip so hard it might bleed, his broad frame shaking as he fought to stifle a laugh. Orion’s glare snapped to him, all fire and frustration, which only made Ronan’s snorts louder, turning the struggle into a losing battle.

Lysander pivoted, his gaze shifting to Ronan with the precision of a hawk. "Until Orion’s fully healed, no pack talks."

"But..."

"He needs rest, not your damn meetings." Lysander told Ronan.

Ronan’s jaw dropped, his attempt at dignity crumbling. "What? I’m just the assistant! Orion’s the leader, he’s supposed to handle this crap. I’ve been doing his work since he collapsed two days ago!" His voice rose, a whine creeping in, his hands gesturing wildly.

Lysander crossed his arms, unmoved. "I don’t care. He’s out of commission until I say otherwise." His tone was final and Ronan knew that.

Orion wasn’t the only one that Lysander could instill fear in, Ronan was also scared of facing Lysander’s wrath.

Ronan pouted, his lower lip jutting out like a sulky kid, and Orion couldn’t help it, a wide, shit-eating grin spread across his face. No paperwork? No endless pack disputes? Hell, he’d take the bed rest for that alone.

But Lysander’s head whipped around, catching the smirk. "Don’t get too cozy, alpha. You can handle pack activities only if it’s important, no slacking."

Ronan’s pout flipped into a sly smile, and Orion’s grin vanished, replaced by a scowl. He knew Ronan too well, that crafty bastard would dig up every important task under the sun to drag him back into the grind.

"You’re a pain," Orion muttered, glaring at Ronan, who just winked.

Orion shifted, wincing again, and rubbed his side. "Can I eat anything? I’m starving." His voice was rough, a growl softened by hunger.

Lysander arched an eyebrow, deadpan. "Eat the Trihydra. Might teach you both a lesson."

Orion stared, blinking, then let out a long, exasperated sigh. "I’m debating if I really like you. But fine...I get your point." He leaned back, conceding defeat.

Lysander nodded to Tobias. "Go get him food, something to replenish his strength. And help me prop him up." Tobias slipped out, his dark hair catching the lantern light as he moved.

Lysander maneuvered Orion into a sitting position, pillows stuffed behind his back, the alpha grumbling the whole time. "Easy, you big oaf," Lysander muttered, adjusting the linen with care. Orion’s groan was more annoyance than pain now, but he stayed put, the glare still fresh in his mind.

Tobias returned, a wooden tray in hand, the aroma wafting in, warm and earthy, a promise of sustenance. On it sat a steaming bowl of bone broth, rich with marrow and simmered herbs, its surface dotted with slivers of soft root vegetables, carrots and parsnips, cooked down to a tender mush.

Beside it was a slice of bread spread with a thin layer of butter and a cup of warm water.

"From the kitchen stores," Tobias said, setting it down. "Cook said it’ll build you back up."

Orion eyed the tray, his nose wrinkling. "Where’s the meat? I want a damn meat." His voice carried a petulant edge.

Lysander snorted, crossing his arms. "You’ll get meat tomorrow, if you behave. This is what your body needs now, not some greasy slab. Eat it."

Orion muttered under his breath, something about Lysander being a tyrant but he picked up the spoon, sipping the broth with a reluctant nod. The warmth hit his gut, soothing the ache, and he grudgingly admitted it wasn’t awful. He tore off a piece of bread, the butter melting on his tongue.

The room settled into a quiet rhythm, the tension easing as Orion ate. Lysander watched, satisfied, then stretched, his fatigue showing. "I’m heading home. Brynhild’ll skin me if I’m late. Keep him in line, you two." He grabbed his cloak, the door creaking as he left, the night air slipping in briefly.

Orion, finished with half the tray, leaned back against the pillows, a smirk creeping up. "Look at you two bloody singles stuck spending the night with me. Pathetic."

Tobias bristled, opening his mouth to argue. "I’m not as single as Ronan, Sam and I, we’ve got something going." He paused, the words catching, and his face fell. "Wait, no... Sam doesn’t want a relationship. Shit." He cursed under his breath.

Ronan and Orion burst out laughing, the sound rough but genuine, filling the small space. Tobias’s scowl only fueled it, "Laugh it up, you bastards. At least I tried!"

Orion wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. "Tried and failed, mate. You’re as lonely as Ronan here, guess we’re a trio of losers tonight."

Ronan grinned, elbowing Tobias. "Speak for yourself. I’m married to the pack. You’re the one stuck with no love life, Orion."

"Married to the pack? Is this because no woman wants you in their bed after the last mess you created?" Orion asked him.

Ronan stood straight. "I can just find company with someone outside the pack."

"So you keep saying." Orion said with a laugh.

"You know, at least I’m not being pressured by the elders to get married." Ronan said with a smirk on his face.

Orion groaned when he remembered just how much the council of elders had pestered him to pick a mate, one he wasn’t ready for. They were quiet now but he knew soon enough, they’ll resume their pestering.