Chapter 2 #2
Her eyes widen, shock written plainly across her face as she stares at the arrow clutched in my hand, just inches from where it would have struck her.
"What the—"
The shock in her eyes transforms instantly. I watch as her gaze hardens, turns flat and deadly—a warrior's eyes replacing the vulnerable woman who had been sleeping moments before.
She jumps to her feet in one fluid motion, her body coiled and ready. "We need to find cover. Now."
"Agreed." I scan the treeline, every sense heightened. "There's a rock formation to the east—"
Another arrow flies from a different direction, once again aimed at her, not me. I move to block it, but I'm a fraction too slow. The arrow pierces my shoulder, just above my heart.
Pain lances through me as I stumble back with a groan. "Run," I tell her through gritted teeth. "Shift and run. Don't look back."
I look up to see her eyes widen, fear flashing through them—fear for me, not herself. It's gone in an instant, replaced by stubborn determination.
"I don't run from danger," she says fiercely. "And I certainly don't leave people behind."
The wild wolves circle us, growling at the unseen attackers. Daciana looks at them, then back at me, her decision made.
"I'm not leaving you," she says, voice firm.
The arrow in my shoulder burns like fire. I can feel blood soaking through my shirt, but the pain is secondary to the need to protect her. With no other choice, I summon my power, feeling it gather in my core.
"Then stay close, little wolf," I warn, bracing myself for what comes next.
I thrust my uninjured arm outward, sending a massive wave of magic in all directions. The air ripples with power, trees bending as if caught in a mighty wind. I hear startled cries from the forest—two, maybe three voices.
"Move. Now." My voice is strained. Using magic on this scale drains me rapidly, especially injured. "They're immobilized, but not for long."
Daciana doesn't hesitate. She shifts into her wolf form—a tawny brown wolf, smaller than me but quick and agile. She nudges my leg, whining urgently.
"I can't shift with this wound," I say, swaying slightly. "The arrow—"
She shifts back to human form in an instant. "Then I'll help you walk," she says, determination set in her jaw. "Put your arm around my shoulder."
Without waiting for a response, she moves to my uninjured side and wraps an arm around my waist. Her strength surprises me—she's solidly built, all lean muscle from years of training. I lean on her, letting her take some of my weight.
"The palace is too far," I mutter, feeling blood seeping down my chest. "We need somewhere closer."
"I know a place," she says, already moving us forward. "But we need to hurry."
The wild wolves flank us as we move, protecting our retreat. One of them—the female who had approached me—suddenly lunges into the underbrush. I hear a startled cry, followed by snarling and the sound of a struggle.
"One down," Daciana mutters. "Good girl."
She leads us through the forest with unerring confidence, supporting my increasingly heavy weight with remarkable strength. My magic has faded, energy sapped by both the spell and my injury. The world begins to spin around me.
"Stay with me," she urges, tightening her grip. "Just a little further."
The trees blur together as my consciousness starts to fade. I focus on her—her scent, her voice, the solid strength of her body against mine. She's not just supporting me physically; her determination is keeping me upright through sheer force of will.
"Here," she finally says, as we reach what appears to be a small cave hidden behind a curtain of vines. "We'll be safe here."
She helps me inside, easing me down against the stone wall. The cave is shallow but well concealed. The wild wolves take up positions at the entrance, alert for any pursuit.
"I need to check your wound," she says, her voice all business now. "The arrow is still in there."
I nod, unable to summon words. She works quickly, tearing a strip from her shirt to staunch the bleeding.
"It needs to come out," she says, meeting my eyes directly. "It's going to hurt."
"Do it," I manage to say.
She wraps her hand around the shaft. "On three. One—"
She pulls it out in one swift motion before even saying "two." The pain is blinding, and a roar escapes my throat. Black spots dance across my vision.
"Sorry," she says, not sounding particularly apologetic. "It's better when you don't tense up expecting it."
The last thing I remember before darkness claims me is her face, brow furrowed with concern as she presses the makeshift bandage against my wound. And the wild wolves, standing guard over us both.
I wake with a violent jolt, my lungs struggling for air. The ceiling above me is unfamiliar—not the ornate moldings of my assigned chambers, but simpler stonework with flickering shadows cast by candlelight.
Pain radiates from my shoulder, but it's different now. Deeper. Wrong. Something cold and foreign spreads through my veins, a sensation I recognize immediately. I try to sit up, but my limbs feel leaden.
My heart. There's something wrong with my heart. Each beat feels labored, as if it's pushing through mud rather than blood.
I close my eyes, focusing inward, calling upon my magic to cleanse whatever invader has taken residence in my body. The power stirs sluggishly, but when I try to direct it toward my heart, it slips away like water through cupped hands.
The arrow. The memory slams into me. The forest, Daciana sleeping, the attack, and then—the arrow that struck me. Not just any arrow. A poisoned arrow.
I force myself to move, gritting my teeth against the pain. I need to neutralize the poison before it—
"Don't move. You'll make it worse."
The familiar voice stops me cold. I turn my head toward the sound, wincing as the movement sends a fresh wave of pain through my chest.
Daciana approaches from the other side of the room, a bowl of steaming water in her hands. The soft candlelight catches the amber flecks in her eyes, and the concern etched across her features.
"Where am I?" My voice comes out rougher than intended, barely recognizable.
"My quarters." She sets the bowl down on a small table beside the bed.
"I tried to take you to your chambers, but we ran into Artisem on the way.
He said if it became known that you were injured, it would be a blow to the delegation's standing.
He told me to bring you here instead and keep you concealed. "
I try to process this information through the fog clouding my mind.
Artisem's logic is sound—showing weakness now could undermine our political position.
But I also know my right hand well enough to recognize the manipulation.
Artisem has been pushing for me to pursue Daciana ever since he noticed my interest in her.
"I'm fine," I say, attempting again to sit up. "I just need to—"
The room tilts violently as I push myself upright. The pressure around my heart intensifies, a vise grip that steals my breath. I fall back against the pillows, unable to hide my grimace of pain.
Daciana's eyes narrow. "For someone so supposedly powerful and mysterious, you were easily felled by a simple arrow."
"Not simple," I manage to say through clenched teeth. "The arrow was poisoned."
Her face drains of color. "Poisoned? Are you certain?"
I nod, fighting to keep my eyes open as another wave of pain washes over me. "I can feel it... spreading. Attacking my heart."
"I'll get a healer," she says, already moving toward the door.
I catch her wrist with more strength than I thought I still possessed. "No."
She stares down at my hand, then at my face. "You're scaring me, Kieran."
I force a small smile, releasing her arm to brush my fingertips against her cheek. "I'm not going to die, little wolf."
Her eyes widen slightly, a flush spreading across her cheeks. "That's... that's not what I'm scared of."
"Go to the queen," I say, dropping my hand back to the bed. "Ask her for three herbs: wolfsbane, silver thistle, and bloodroot."
She frowns. "Wolfsbane is toxic. And I can just get Astra—"
I shake my head firmly. "Just ask for the herbs. Don't tell her why." The last thing I need is the entire court knowing the Snow Mountain Alpha has been poisoned. "When you return, crush them into a paste and feed it to me."
Daciana's expression says she's not convinced, but she nods reluctantly. "If you're worse when I get back..."
"The herbs," I insist. "Go."
After one last worried glance, she leaves the room.
The moment the door closes behind her, I let the mask of control slip.
Pain crashes over me in waves, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps.
The poison is working faster than I anticipated, a sophisticated blend designed specifically for shifters with magical abilities.
I try once more to summon my magic, to direct it toward my heart to slow the poison's spread, but it slips away like smoke. Whatever this toxin is, it's deliberately blocking my connection to my power.
Time becomes meaningless as I drift in and out of consciousness. The room grows colder, or perhaps it's just the poison's effect on my body. When I hear the door open again, I can barely turn my head.
Daciana rushes to the bedside, her face tight with fear. "You're worse," she accuses, setting down a small pouch on the table.
I try to respond, but my mouth refuses to form words. My vision darkens at the edges, narrowing to a tunnel with her face at the center.
Working quickly, she empties the pouch, revealing three bundles of herbs. Her hands move with practiced efficiency as she grinds them together in a small mortar, adding drops of water until they form a thick, dark green paste.
"Open your mouth," she commands, scooping some of the paste onto a spoon.
I try, but I can't move. My body no longer responds to my commands, the poison having spread too far, too fast.
Daciana's expression turns from fear to determination. Without hesitation, she puts a spoonful of the paste in her own mouth. Then she leans down, pressing her lips against mine, using her tongue to push the bitter mixture into my mouth.
The taste is vile—earthy and sharp and metallic all at once—but I manage to swallow. She repeats the process three more times, each time lingering a moment longer than necessary.
By the fourth spoonful, warmth begins to spread from my center outward. Not the comforting warmth of health returning, but the burning heat of magic awakening. The herbs aren't an antidote—they're a catalyst, designed to break through whatever is blocking my natural abilities.
My magic surges violently, burning away the poison's hold. I gasp, my back arching off the bed as power courses through my veins.
Daciana jumps back, her eyes wide with alarm. "Kieran? What's happening?"
I can't answer, lost in the battle raging inside me. My wolf claws to the surface, desperate to help fight the invader in our bloodstream. For a moment, I fear I might lose control and shift right here in her bed.
But gradually, the burning subsides, replaced by the familiar cool rush of my magic flowing freely again. I exhale slowly, feeling my heart resume its normal rhythm.
"Better," I manage to say, my voice still rough but stronger now. "It's working."
Relief floods her face, quickly replaced by annoyance as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "You could have warned me how disgusting that paste would taste."
A laugh escapes me, though it turns into a cough. "My apologies, little wolf. Next time I'm poisoned, I'll consider your delicate palate."
She rolls her eyes, but I don't miss the small smile tugging at her lips. "Next time, try not to get poisoned at all." Her expression grows serious again. "Who would want to kill you?"
"The arrow wasn't meant for me," I remind her, pushing myself up to a sitting position with only minimal dizziness this time. "It was aimed at you. Both arrows were."
Her brow furrows. "But why? I'm just a guard."
"You're the queen's personal guard and close friend," I point out. “Ther eare those who would want you dead. You have enemies.”
She crosses her arms, a defensive gesture. "So do you, apparently. That second arrow changed course. It was meant for you."
I consider this. She's right—the trajectory had shifted. "Perhaps they didn't care which of us they hit. Or perhaps..." I trail off, a suspicion forming.
"Perhaps what?"
I shake my head. "Nothing concrete yet." I reach for her hand, surprising us both with the gesture. "Thank you for helping me."
Her fingers tense in mine, but she doesn't pull away. "I would have done the same for anyone."
"No," I say softly, holding her gaze. "You wouldn't have."
A flush creeps up her neck, and she withdraws her hand abruptly. "You should rest. The poison might be neutralized, but you still have an arrow wound."
I lean back against the pillows, suddenly aware of how intimate this situation is—me in her bed, her having just pressed her lips to mine, even if it was only to administer medicine.
"I'll leave as soon as I can," I promise.
"Don't be stupid," she says sharply. "Someone tried to kill us. We need to figure out who and why before you go anywhere."
I raise an eyebrow at her commanding tone, amused despite the seriousness of the situation. "Is that an order, warrior?"
She doesn't back down. "Yes, it is. And if you try to leave this room before you're fully healed, I'll tie you to the bed myself."
The vivid image her words conjure brings heat to my blood that has nothing to do with the poison or the herbs. For a moment, neither of us speaks, the air between us charged with something dangerous and intoxicating.
"That would certainly give the court something to gossip about," I finally say, my voice deliberately light.
She turns away quickly, busying herself with cleaning up the herbs. "Get some sleep. I'll take the chair."
"Daciana," I say softly, waiting until she looks at me again. "Thank you. Truly."
Something vulnerable flickers in her eyes before she masks it with her usual direct gaze. "Just don't die in my bed, Alpha. The paperwork would be a nightmare."
As she settles into the chair across the room, I close my eyes, allowing my body to heal now that the poison has been neutralized. But my mind remains alert, turning over the implications of the attack.
Someone wanted one or both of us dead. Someone who knows enough about my kind to create a poison that specifically targets magical abilities.
The list of potential enemies is longer than I'd like to admit. And I have a sinking feeling that this is only the beginning.