Mated to Her Alpha Instructor Chapter 109

Eileen

The carriage lurched forward, wheels crunching over gravel as the convoy began to move. I watched the Academy gates recede, the familiar stone walls and arched windows slipping past, and felt a strange tug in my chest—part anticipation, part trepidation.

*You can do this,* I told myself firmly. *You've already proven you belong here. Now prove it again.*

Through the bond, I felt Regis's presence like a steady pulse at the back of my mind—calm, watchful, unwavering. It soothed something raw in me, that constant awareness of him.

Mira was still chattering, something about the kinds of injuries we'd likely see and whether the border camps had decent food. Nina turned another page. The landscape outside shifted gradually from the Academy's rolling lawns to farmland, then sparse forest, the trees growing thinner and more gnarled as we traveled farther from the heart of the territory.

And then, through the window, I caught a glimpse of Regis. He was the leading rider on horseback, keeping pace with our carriage.

My breath caught. He sat astride his horse with easy grace, shoulders squared, one hand loose on the reins. The morning light caught in his dark hair and limned the hard line of his jaw, and for a moment I forgot to breathe. He looked every inch the warrior he was—strong and unyielding and impossibly beautiful.

As if sensing my gaze, he turned his head. Our eyes met through the opened window, and everything else fell away.

I couldn't speak to him, couldn't reach out and touch him, but I didn't need to. Through the bond, I felt his steady reassurance wrap around me like a cloak: *I'm here. I'm watching. You're not alone.*

"Eileen, are you even listening?"

Mira's voice jolted me back to the present. I blinked, pulled my gaze away from the window, and found her watching me with a knowing smirk.

"You were staring," she accused, delighted. "Completely *mooning* over him."

"I was just watching the scenery go by," I said quickly.

"Uh-huh." Mira leaned in, her grin wicked. "But you know he looks ridiculously good in the saddle."

"I wasn't ogling," I protested, though my cheeks were already burning.

Mira just laughed, and even Nina's mouth twitched—barely, but enough for me to notice.

I ducked my head, letting my hair fall forward to hide my smile, and turned my attention back to the window. Regis was still there, riding steady and sure, and the sight of him settled something anxious in my chest.

Whatever lay ahead—whatever tests or trials or scrutiny awaited me at the border—I wouldn't face it alone. Not really.

---

The hours passed slowly. Mira's chatter ebbed and flowed; Nina remained absorbed in her book; and I drifted between watching the landscape change and retreating into my own thoughts.

I thought about the healers I'd be working alongside, the soldiers I'd be treating. I thought about Silas Crowe—the observer Regis had warned me about. He'd said Silas was a minor administrator from the border, but told me to keep an eye on him… and to keep myself safe. A cold knot of apprehension twisted in my gut.

I thought about the bond between the child I carried and me, that fragile thread of awareness that had grown stronger each day. I wondered if they could feel my fear—or my determination.

*You're going to see me prove myself,* I told them silently, one hand resting over my belly. *You're going to see that your mother is strong.*

I closed my eyes and breathed.

The convoy began to slow as we approached a fork in the road. One path led toward the training encampments where Regis would take the combat students; the other veered toward the medical outpost where I'd be stationed. The two weren't far apart—perhaps an hour's ride—but far enough that we'd be separated for the first time since we'd completed the mate bond.

My throat tightened.

"We're splitting up here," Mira said quietly, noticing the road marker.

I nodded, not trusting my voice, and leaned toward the window. Outside, Regis had already reined his horse closer to our carriage, and when I pushed the window open, the cold air rushed in, sharp and bracing.

He guided his horse alongside us, close enough that I could see the tension in his jaw, the way his knuckles whitened slightly on the reins. Through the bond, I felt his reluctance, his instinct to keep me close warring with his knowledge that I needed to do this on my own terms.

We didn't speak. There was too much to say, and no time to say it.

Instead, I met his gaze and placed one hand over my heart. He understood. His expression didn't soften, but his eyes did—just for a breath—and he lifted his own hand, gesturing toward my abdomen in a silent reminder: *Keep them safe. Keep yourself safe.*

I nodded, pressing my fingers briefly to my belly before placing them back over my heart.

*I will. I promise.*

The carriage began to turn, wheels groaning as we took the left fork. Regis held his position for a moment longer, and then he was gone—his silhouette receding into the trees as the road carried us in opposite directions.

I sank back against the seat, chest tight, and closed my eyes.

Through the bond, I still felt him. Distant now, but there—steady and unshakable, like a star I could navigate by even when I couldn't see it.

"You okay?" Mira asked softly.

I opened my eyes and nodded. "Yeah," I said, and meant it. "I'm okay."

The road ahead stretched long and unfamiliar, the border looming somewhere beyond the horizon. But I wasn't the girl who'd trembled in silence anymore. I wasn't the girl who apologized for taking up space.

I was Eileen Wylde—mate to an Alpha, mother to a child not yet born, and healer in my own right.

And I was ready.

---

The carriage finally jolted to a halt before a sturdy wooden building. I pressed one hand to my belly—the child had been restless during the final stretch—and took a slow breath.

Through the window, I glimpsed neat rows of herb beds and canvas tents arranged beyond them. The medical outpost was smaller than I'd imagined, but its simplicity felt reassuring. No grand halls—just functional structures built to save lives.

"Not bad," Mira murmured beside me. "Better than rotting shacks."

Nina closed her book without comment, her expression unreadable as always.

A tall, weathered man approached as I stepped down. "I'm Dr. Dennis Hawthorne," he said warmly. "Welcome to the border medical outpost."

The woman beside him—his mate, judging by their easy proximity—stepped forward with a gentle smile. "I'm Cora. You must be exhausted. How are you feeling?"

The discretion in her phrasing, the way she didn't openly reference my condition, made me grateful. "A little tired, but well. The journey was smoother than expected."

Dr. Hawthorne gestured toward the compound. "The main building handles office work, surgery, and storage. Eastern tents are for minor injuries. Western cabins isolate serious cases." His tone was brisk but warm. "We'll get you settled first, though. Cora?"

She led us to a modest cabin behind the main building—three small bedrooms off a central room with a crackling hearth. The space smelled of cedar and herbs, simple but welcoming.

Mira immediately claimed the eastern-facing room, throwing open shutters. "Eileen, you can see the herb garden! Bet the sunrise is gorgeous."

Nina chose the smallest room without a word, closing the door with quiet finality.

I took the middle room, setting my bag on the narrow bed. The window overlooked birch trees, their pale trunks glowing in afternoon light. *We made it,* I told the child silently, hand over my belly.

Through the bond, Regis's presence flickered—distant but steady, still riding toward his encampment. I pulled out the communicator, running my thumb over the repaired crack. Mira had quietly gotten it fixed after the Blackwell incident, never asking for repayment.

I typed quickly: *"We arrived safely. The outpost is clean and organized, and Dr. Hawthorne seems kind. The baby and I are both fine. Don't worry."*

I hesitated, then added: *"I miss you."*

The reply came almost instantly: *"I'm glad you're safe. Rest when you can, and don't push yourself. Let me know immediately if anything feels wrong."*

Then: *"I miss you too."*

I pressed the communicator to my chest, warmth spreading through me. Through the bond, I felt him—distant but constant, like a star to navigate by.

Outside, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting everything in golden light. Tomorrow the real work would begin.