Page 30 of Rose's Untamed Bear

His eyes opened.

Golden brown as Derrick’s, sharp as lightning, they blinked once, twice, struggling against the weight of years of stone.

And then they fixed on his son.

“Derrick?” His voice rasped, hoarse with disuse, but it rang with the weight of command all the same.

Derrick dropped to his knees. His shoulders shook, and though he bowed his head, I saw the tears glittering at the corners of his eyes.

“Father.” The word broke from him, raw and reverent. “I’ve come home.”

The King’s stone-stiff hand lifted, trembling, and Derrick caught it in both of his. He pressed it to his brow like a knight swearing fealty, but I knew this was more than duty. This was a son returned.

Around us, the hall filled with chaos, courtiers gasped, servants clattered to the floor as they righted themselves, and voices rose in panic and astonishment. But I hardly heard any of it. My whole heart was fixed on the two of them.

King Roderick’s fingers tightened, weak but certain, over Derrick’s hand. A father’s grip, not a king’s. “My son,” he whispered, and his face softened into something no throne could ever command: love.

A sob rose in my throat, and I pressed my hand to my mouth, holding it in. Derrick had carried this grief for so long, yearsupon years of loneliness, wandering with only a beast’s skin and sorrow for company. And now here he knelt, whole, holding his father’s hand, his family restored.

I didn’t think I could ever comprehend the depth of his suffering, or the weight of the relief that now coursed through him. But I would stand beside him for all of it.

The King blinked hard; his fingers tightened around Derrick’s. His voice rasped as though dragged from stone. “What… happened? Did I fall asleep?”

Derrick’s mouth opened, but no words came.

The king's expression turned far away, and then I saw it, the moment a flicker of memory returned in his eyes. His brow furrowed, and shadows darkened his expression. “The wizard,” he said slowly, laced with fury. “Alarion.”

Alarm lit his face as his gaze darted over Derrick, searching. “Where is Serilda?” His eyes swept the hall, unsteady but sharp enough, until they landed on me.

He froze.

Then his gaze narrowed, and his voice hardened into steel. “Who is she?” His stare pinned me like an arrow through the chest. “And why does she bear the wizard’s eyes?”

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Panic clawed up my throat. I had known it, known he would hate me, reject me, the moment he saw what I was. Alarion’s daughter. The curse’s legacy. My blood, my shame, written plain across my face.

My lips parted, but no sound came. My knees threatened to buckle. But before I could shatter, Derrick rose, his hand still gripped his father’s, his voice steady, though I felt the tremorin his words. “Father, listen to me. She is no enemy. She is no curse.”

The King’s eyes flashed dangerously. “She has his mark?—”

“No,” Derrick cut in, fiercer now. “She has her mother’s courage. Serilda’s blood runs in her as surely as Alarion’s, and it is the better part. She saved me, Father. She freed me. Without Rose, I would still be rotting in the skin of a beast, and you would still be stone on this throne. Whatever Alarion gave her, it is nothing compared to what she chose to be.”

My throat burned with unshed tears. I dared not speak, dared not move, but Derrick’s words struck through the panic like sunlight through storm clouds. He wasn’t ashamed. Not of me. Not ever.

Still, the King’s stare bore into me, and his voice sounded sharp with disbelief. “Serilda? She’s… her daughter?” His hand shook as he pointed at me.

“One of them. Rose Red,” Derrick said calmly. “The other is Snow White. Serilda bore twins.”

My breath caught. My legs trembled, but when Derrick beckoned me up and closer, I forced myself forward. Each step felt like crossing a battlefield. I tried to smile, tried to stand tall, but inside, guilt and self-doubt waged war. How could I belong here when half of me came from the monster who cursed them?

“You are Serilda’s daughter?” Rodrick's voice softened on my mother’s name, though the weight of it was heavy as stone.

All I could do was nod; my throat felt way too tight for words.

The King turned, his gaze falling back on Derrick. “She's a grown lady. How long was I… like this?”

Derrick’s jaw clenched. He lowered his voice, but it carried through the hall all the same. “Twenty years.”

Gasps rippled through the courtiers and servants who had managed to rise and stand. Some clutched their heads, others covered their mouths, but all were shaken. Murmurs raced through the chamber like fire through dry brush.Twenty years.