The excruciating pain of the poison leaving Azael's body tore through his veins—settling for a heartbeat then surging again.
The thick scent of dandelions filled the air. Trisha's magic pulled his body upward from the bed as she extracted the poison.
Azael flexed, forcing his muscles to endure, his groans audible despite his efforts to hide them.
Cold sweat broke across his bare body, silk sheets tangled around his waist. Then a sudden ease washed over him leaving him breathless and trembling.
He swallowed hard. "Trisha?"
"Zel!" Her voice came soft, submissive. He had expected it to be mocking.
Azael opened his eyes slowly and turned to her, noting how she avoided his gaze. Her feet touched the floor. Trisha loved to float.
"What's wrong, Trisha?" he asked, though his thoughts drifted to Elana.
"I can't, Zel." She shook her head. "I can't lose you."
Azael was surprised. He had never seen Trisha this vulnerable in a while. It warmed something in him that she cared this deeply.
"Come now, Trisha." He offered his hand to the white witch whose life he had saved centuries ago from being burned at the stake.
A woman meant to be a gift from God to man—naturally soothing in nature—yet destroyed by humans simply because they didn't understand her.
She had refused to leave him since he revived her with his blood. She was bound to him, but even when he offered her freedom, she stayed.
Trisha took his hand, stepping closer to the bed.
He gave a faint smile. "Nothing to fear, my faithful Trisha. Poison from wolf's blood should be the least of your worries."
She still avoided his eyes.
Then he said, "The children. Elana."
Trisha began to pull her hand away, but his grip tightened.
"Look at me when I speak to you, Trisha."
Her gaze lifted, wavering. He smelled her fear. It deepened his dread.
"Where is she?" he asked again, his tone lethal.
"I had no idea, it would be this dangerous," she whispered."I had to drop them with the humans, even in their conditions. It's better than coming back. Zel."
Azael released her hand and let her step back.
He sat up, not sure what to make of the ache rising inside of him—the unconscious separation from Elana.
If he spoke the truth aloud, Trisha would know how deeply he already desired the girl.
"This is for the best," Trisha said. "She is disastrous for you. I want you to be happy Zel. Not dead."
"Did she survive the bite?" he asked, letting his loose midnight hair cover his face to hide whatever expression might betray him.
"Yes, my lord," Trisha answered, her tone already revealing that she sensed how much the news affected him.
Azael sighed and lay back down, his thoughts drifting—wondering if the humans she left Elana and the children with were trustworthy.
Wondering about the taste of Elana's blood. Her lips. So familiar.
"Then that's all that matters," he said softly, closing his eyes.
But he could still hear her scream in his mind.
**
Elana regained consciousness to a dull pain in her forearm. A Comfortable bed beneath her. Voices around her.
Then Israel's sudden embrace. She flinched when his arm brushed the sore spot on her neck. Azael.
His name breathed itself into her mind.
"Lanaa! I'm so glad you're alive." Israel cried.
She held him close, her senses adjusting. "Israel…Where are we?"
"The king saved us," Israel said, his voice trembling.
"The king?" Elana repeated.
Footsteps sounded, followed by a door closing. The air carried the harsh sting of man-made perfumes and colognes.
Then Naina's voice rose from her left. Elana hadn't realized she was there. Relief touched her heart briefly —until she heard the words.
"She's blind too. It's better to kill her to save her the suffering my king."
Elana froze, dread filling her stomach. What was happening?
Israel was pulled from her arms. A woman spoke firmly. "Come now, Child. It's dangerous."
"Israel..." Elana whispered as he was taken away.
"Get up, Slave." A male voice ordered harshly different from Azael's gentle voice.
Elana obeyed, struggling against the friction and pain in her body.
Another man spoke:
"Elana, blind slave of the Gringer family. You have been sentenced to death, due to infection by an unknown animal that may pose future health hazards to the kingdom."
Her whole body shook. "What?"
Cold cuffs snapped around her wrists as a soldier seized her.
She didn't hear Israel's cry.
And the last she'd heard from Naina…was betrayal.
**
Syrus laughed, his voice echoing through the palace library, where King Victor sat behind a huge reading table.
"This is becoming simpler than I thought. The Ancient is practically giving itself away."
"The blind girl," The king said. "What purpose does she serve?"
"It will be revealed—my king. But for now—call the war to an end." Syrus said, his usual scheming tone slipping through.
King Victor raised a brow. "We must claim that land first."
"And without distractions my lord. Your troops—and—my magic—must focus in one direction for guaranteed victory."
Victor considered, then stood.
"I will send word to our assumed rival."
His gaze drifted directly beneath the shadow of Syrus's cloak, "Remember your place, mage. I am your king."
"Indeed, you are," Syrus replied with a bow.
But his heart leaped with anticipation.
The mark on the blind girl's neck confirmed it.
An ancient was near.
And not just any ancient. A vampire, one strong enough to hide such a vast expanse of land.
Jackpot.
**
Fen watched the limping wolf approach, observing from his throne carved from blackened rock.
His domain, shaped like the inside of a volcano, cast a shadow where some of his lycan subjects flanked him on either side.
The limping wolf reached him, immediately dropping to its knees before shifting into a battered human form.
He groaned, "King Fen."
Fen grinned. "What could have possibly gotten you into a fight with Azael?" He leaned forward, anticipation flickering in his eyes. "Why did he batter you so badly?"
"He protected those humans," the man groaned. "We didn't know he owned the carriage. I saw him…he bit the girl."
"Girl?" Fen repeated, intrigued.
"Yes, King Fen. That's how I managed to escape. A ginger-haired girl, slightly dark skinned," the man said.
Fen smiled. Azael rarely fed on humans. A ginger-haired girl, huh?
"Go and get yourself recovered. You're one lucky bastard," Fen said. The lycan obeyed, limping out.
Fen's eyes narrowed as he murmured to himself.
"Where else to get answers except from the source itself…Could it be a woman?"