Chapter 35

Elouera

I stared at Uncle Holden’s polished black boots as the sound of his cane echoed through my head. Every click felt like a warning that my life was about to end.

This was the man who had held my hand when I cried in the dark. The man who had promised to protect me from the Empress. The only person in this entire palace who had ever shown me even a little kindness.

And he was the one who had done this to me.

The truth hit me so hard that my stomach twisted.

The medicine he had been giving me for the past six months. The gentle smiles he gave me while watching me swallow the bitter liquid. He had never been trying to cure me. He had never been trying to keep my Omega nature a secret to protect me.

He had been poisoning me all along, slowly preparing my body for this very moment.

“Don’t touch me,” I croaked. My throat hurt so badly that even those three words felt like broken glass cutting through it.

I didn’t wait for him to reach for me. Fear took over, and I desperately pushed my heavy boots against the slippery stone floor, forcing my helpless body backward.

My shoulders slammed into the iron latch of the courtyard door behind me. The old mechanism groaned under my weight. The wooden door gave way, and I fell backward into the dark palace gardens.

Freezing rain struck my face like hundreds of tiny needles.

I hit the ground hard, scraping my elbows against the rough gravel. Panic took over as I tried to crawl away. I dug my raw fingers into the cold mud, dragging my useless legs behind me and putting as much distance as I could between myself and the light coming from the open doorway.

Holden didn’t follow me.

He simply stood in the doorway, tall and frightening against the dim candlelight, leaning casually on his brass cane.

He watched me crawl into the freezing rain without showing the slightest bit of pity. He didn’t look sorry for what he had done. He watched me struggle as calmly as a spider watching a trapped fly grow tired inside its web.

Then, slowly and deliberately, he reached for the heavy wooden door and shut it.

Just like that, he left me alone in the darkness.

The silence of the gardens was almost unbearable. The only sound was the storm raging through the ancient oak trees.

I dragged myself away from the gravel path and collapsed among a thick patch of wet ferns. I pressed my burning cheek against the cold mud, hoping the rain would cool me down.

The rain poured heavily, soaking through my torn linen bindings and silver tunic within seconds.

But it did nothing to help.

The fire inside me was no longer something I could describe as ordinary heat. It felt as if something inside my body was breaking down, as though every part of me was falling apart at once.

All the medicines and salves I had used to suppress my true nature were suddenly losing their effect. For ten years, I had swallowed bitter herbs and covered my skin with special mixtures to hide what I really was.

Now, all of it was failing at once.

I felt something inside my chest suddenly give way, as if a dam had broken. A powerful wave of heat rushed through my body, so intense that my back arched off the muddy ground.

A scream of pure agony tore from my throat, but the thunder overhead swallowed the sound almost immediately.

Then my scent burst free.

My scent didn’t just come out of my skin. It burst into the cold night air with incredible force.

The strong smell of wild honey, crushed flowers, and something sharp like lightning filled the air, overpowering the smell of rain and wet earth. It was so strong that I could almost taste it in my mouth.

The scent spread across the muddy gardens, passed through the rose bushes, and mixed with the thick fog surrounding the palace walls.

It was like a giant signal, calling out to every dangerous predator nearby.

I lay helpless in the mud, my body shaking uncontrollably as the heat reached its worst point. I couldn’t move my arms anymore. I couldn’t even open my eyes.

The fever was so intense that I could barely think. My body was burning, yet I was still shaking from the cold. I had no strength left to fight or protect myself. Whoever found me first could do whatever they wanted.

The rain continued to beat against my back.

Then, suddenly, the wind changed direction.

A sharp, familiar scent of crushed cedar needles and damp earth drifted across my face.

I struggled to open my heavy eyelids, but everything around me was blurry.

Less than ten feet away, a huge figure stepped silently out from the shadows of the weeping willow trees.

He wasn’t wearing the metal armor of a royal guard. Instead, he wore a torn green velvet coat that was completely soaked by the rain.

Stirling Vance.

His sword hung loosely at his side, its tip dragging through the mud as he walked.

He wasn’t looking at me like a lord looking down on a weak prince.

His amber eyes had changed completely. Both had turned a frightening, glowing red that stood out in the darkness.

A deep, rough growl came from his chest. I could feel its vibration through the wet ground beneath my cheek.

He took one slow, heavy step toward me.

Then, from the darkness directly behind my head, I heard another sound.

Shing!

The unmistakable sound of Callan drawing his broadsword from its sheath. Stirling had come for me and Callan was right behind me.