Chapter 40 #2
She lowered her head, and tears trickled from her eyes. My heart thudded painfully, and I took her chin in my fingers. “Talk to me, elskan mín. What’s going on?”
The words struggled to form on her lips.
“Syl…”
“I’m a monster, Jack,” she blurted out, jumping to her feet, hands clenched so tight I thought she might draw blood from her palms. “A godsdamned beast.”
I blinked, words evading me.
“Helka…she told me the truth of what I am.”
“Helka?” My brows drew closer together. “What are you talking about?”
“Gods, Jack. Helka! The witch who healed you last night. She knew about everything you’ve tried to tell me. The truth you uncovered in the archives. The fact that magic doesn’t belong just to your kind, but that it once belonged to the shifters.”
Standing, I slowly inched closer to her.
Her chest heaved. “They are real, Jack. And I’m…I’m one of them.”
I brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, needing to ground her to me. “Breathe, Syl. Start at the beginning. Tell me everything this witch said to you.”
Pulling away from me, she began, “The people who attacked our camp, the ones who took me captive, they were dissenters. I heard them talk about the Iron Crow. They came for me specifically because they wanted to teach you a lesson for what you did to that boy. But then they decided to—” She choked on her words, unable to finish her sentence, but I already knew what she was going to say, and a surge of rage ripped through my lungs.
Watery eyes met mine. “I don’t know what happened,” she went on, “but something in me snapped and I…I transformed. Claws, fangs, supernatural strength…”
“Oh, Syl…”
“I killed them,” she said, her voice soft, almost distant as she splayed her palms out. “Shredded them with my bare hands.”
My heart sank and I took a few steps back, my chest tightening as I sat down on the edge of the bed.
“How long have you known that I was a shifter, Jack?”
The memory of the attack in the alley flashed before me like a streak of lightning.
“The night we fought in the maze, when I went looking for you at your brother’s tavern.
Part of the reason I couldn’t stop those dissenters from attacking you was because I was stopped by someone…
a witch, I think. I don’t exactly know who she was, but she grabbed my arm and she showed me a vision.
” My eyes snapped to hers. “It was of you, half-transformed, in the middle of a battlefield. Then, when you healed so quickly, I had my suspicions, but there was no way for me to prove it, especially after everything that happened with my mother.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about the vision?”
“I didn’t want to scare you. Didn’t want to worry you until I could discover more.”
She paced. “Oh, there’s more, Jack. Lots more.”
“More?”
“Apparently, I’m the prophesied sacred wolf of the Wargfell pack that’s supposed to lead the shifter clans back into power.”
The air crystalized in my lungs, and for a second, I found it hard to breathe. “The úlfrein…” I whispered, mostly to myself, awed terror crawling over my skin.
She paused, eyes wide. “You know about the prophecy?”
“The old texts I found hidden in the sub floors of the archives…the parchments were not only in the old tongue, but they were also so old and deteriorated, I could only read fragments. But yes, I’ve heard of it.
And of the Wargfell pack.” I looked around the chamber we were in, wondering if perhaps the crone who had shown me the vision of Sylvi in that battle was the same person Sylvi kept talking about.
“The witch who healed me, what exactly did she heal me from?”
“You truly don’t remember what happened last night?”
“I remember you mentioning something about an archer and a poisoned arrow, but that’s about it.”
She sat next to me, the mattress dipping, her fingers threading through mine. “The archer in the woods, the one who shot you with that volgrath arrow laced with umbrawort… He’s the Wargfell pack heir, Fenrik Mánabarn.”
“The name doesn’t sound familiar.”
Sylvi’s breath hitched and she pushed back onto her feet, picking at her nails.
“He tried to kill you. And he would’ve succeeded if it hadn’t been for Helka.
She pulled the poison from your blood. Gods, Jack.
I tried holding it together last night. I wanted to be strong for you, but this is all just too much. ”
“Syl, whatever is going on, you don’t have to figure this out alone. I’ll find out who this Fenrik Mánabarn is, and I’ll—”
Her jaw tightened. “You don’t understand.
He’s not just a shifter wolf prince looking to get revenge on the royals who exiled his people and shackled their magic.
He believes I am his foretold mate, the sacred wolf his people were promised.
That we’re destined to reclaim the land that was stolen from them.
He plans to wage war against the northern kingdoms. With me at his side. ”
The unseelie magic that sat coiled like a sleeping hrímdreki deep in my core stirred awake, sending icy, dark shadows slithering through my veins. I stood, my muscles tight, hoarfrost prickling my fingertips, an unholy growl reverberating in my chest. “You don’t belong to anyone but me, Syl.”
Her shoulders relaxed at my words, though panic returned to her eyes. “What about their prophecy?”