26. THE BEGINNING OF THE END
Chapter twenty-six
THE BEGINNING OF THE END
Sunlight stabbed through the window, striking Emeriel's eyes, the bedsheets were cold, the room silent. She woke to an empty bed. Trying to move, she realized that was the least of her problems.
A sick feeling churned in her stomach, the nausea hitting her hard. Each attempt to move sent tremors of pain through her battered body. Bile surged up her throat, muscles protesting as she doubled over and wretched onto the rumpled bedding.
She heaved until nothing remained, dry sobs wracking her frame. Tears mingled with saliva and bile on her cheeks, her nose running unchecked. The world swam in a nauseating blur.
A gentle knock broke the silence. My beloved?
The door creaked open, revealing Lord Herod's concerned face. "Oh, my poor little one." He stepped inside. "Your heat has ended."
Indeed it had. The feverish arousal that had consumed her for days was gone, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion. Her mind was clear, but her body felt as if it had been trampled by a stampede of horses.
"I feel... crushed," she groaned, squeezing her eyes shut against the morning light that stabbed like needles. "Like a war chariot ran me over."
"A common feeling, my dear," Lord Herod soothed. His footsteps drew nearer. "I'll have you moved to the main house. The maids will see to this mess. A bath has already been prepared. You'll feel better afterward."
Emeriel doubted that, but she didn't have the energy to argue. The thought of being clean was a small comfort.
"I'm going to lift you now," Herod announced, his hand reaching for her arm.
Emeriel recoiled with a hiss, her body instinctively shrinking from his touch. "No," she whimpered. "It hurts."
"That, too, is normal, my dear Em," he said softly. "You've been touched constantly for days. Your body craves space to heal. But I'm afraid you'll have to endure it for a moment. Walking will be difficult. This is the only way I can get you out of here."
Emeriel's stomach roiled, making it difficult to focus on Lord Herod's words. She tried to summon the strength to move, but her muscles refused to cooperate.
"Alright," she managed, weakly, bracing herself for the pain.
But nothing prepared her for the abject misery that shot through her when his strong arms lifted her from the bed. Emeriel stifled a cry as she was carried out of the cottage that had been her world for the past three days.
"The grand king has left, hasn't he?" Emeriel tried not to cry.
One would think that after the heat, her emotions would be more stable, but they were still a chaotic mess.
"Yes, at dawn," Lord Herod replied. "Matters of court wait for no man, Emeriel. But he spent your heat with you, staying the entire time, despite his deep-seated hatred for your kind. The gods are truly on your side."
Are they? The grand king had nearly killed her, not once but twice. His pain had often overshadowed their bond, driving him to the brink of murder. Twice, he’d almost strangled her. If the gods truly favored her, they wouldn't have forged this bond in the first place.
Before the manor, shielded from the harsh sunlight, Emeriel finally opened her eyes. The nausea surged again.
"I think I'm going to be sick."
"Just a few more seconds, my dear," Lord Herod urged. "We're almost there."
Aekeira missed her sister deeply.
Days apart felt like an eternity.
She'd attempted to speed through her chores and slip out of the fortress before but juggling both her work and Em's proved near impossible to complete everything on time. Today, however, she was determined. Not just to finish early, but to elude Master Tyke's ever-watchful eyes. She hadn't encountered him since that dreadful evening, and she'd hoped she never would again.
Rising before dawn, Aekeira barely snatched an hour of sleep before tirelessly cleaning Blackstone's entire third wing. Then, she tended the gardens, watering, weeding, and planting. By midday, she was exhausted but elated. Everything was going according to plan. She would see Em.
Humming a cheerful tune, Aekeira moved around the toolshed, organizing.
"Well, well. Look who it is. The human witch."
She spun at Slavemaster Tyke's voice. He stood in the doorway, pipe in hand.
Her eyes fell, concealing the fear rising within. She hadn't encountered him since that dreadful evening, and she'd hoped she never would again. "Good day, Master Tyke."
"Spare me the pleasantries." He inhaled deeply from his pipe. "What did you do to his highness?"
"I'm afraid I don't understand—"
"Don't play coy with me!" He advanced menacingly. Aekeira stumbled back until her spine met the rough wall, trapping her. His eyes burned with rage, muscles tensed. "Lord Vladya despises your kind. He finds great joy in eradicating vermin like you. What did you do to earn his favor?"
Panic clawed at Aekeira's throat and she glanced at the door, longing for escape. "I swear, I've done nothing wrong."
"Liar!" he thundered, closing the distance, looming over her. His hand shot out, gripping her jaw tightly, forcing her to meet his stare.
"You're pretty, but so are half the women here. Your looks alone wouldn't fixate Lord Vladya. If it's not witchcraft, then what? Are you that skilled in bed? Is your cunt that enticing?"
Aekeira struggled, her jaw aching under his grip.
"Maybe I should find out myself, eh? See what all the fuss is about."
"Lord Vladya summoned me not long ago," Aekeira blurted. "I was just on my way to see him. If I'm late, he'll want to know why."
Tyke's grip tightened momentarily, before shoving her away in disgust. "Get out of my sight!"
She fled the shed without a second thought.
"You're Aekeira," the high lord of agriculture said, stepping into view.
Aekeira stood from the chair where she had been waiting and bowed respectfully. "Yes, My Lord."
"I've heard so much about you," he said with a warm smile. "I am High Lord Herod. I'm glad you could make it."
"Thank you, My Lord." Aekeira's gaze swept through her surroundings. “My Lord, if it's not too much trouble, I would like to see my sister."
The handsome lord nodded and turned. "Come with me."
Aekeira followed, navigating the luxurious space until they stopped at a door at the end of the hallway. The high lord faced her. "She's in recovery. A delicate state. Be gentle with her."
The door opened, and Aekeira entered to see Em on the bed, unclothed, a thick towel beneath her. Identical towels were stacked nearby—Aekeira counted ten—before her attention snapped back to Em.
Her sister made pained sounds, curled in a fetal position with her back to Aekeira. She hadn't reacted to the sound of the door.
Aekeira approached, heart aching. "Em..."
Em jerked, slowly unfurling to face her. Eyes fluttered open. "Keira?"
"It's me." Emotion thickened Aekeira's throat, and she leaned in, embracing her sister. "Em, I've missed you so much."
Em whimpered. "Don't touch me. Hurts."
"Sorry, sorry." Aekeira pulled away but remained close, worry etched on her face. "How do you feel? You look ill."
"Just very tired." Em’s face contorted in discomfort. She parted her legs slightly letting out a long, pained moan as a whitish fluid began to seep out from—
Aekeira's cheeks flushed. Oh.
Is that why Em's belly was swollen, like a woman newly with child?
Finally, Em slumped forward, the towel beneath her soaked. Concern far outweighed Aekeira's embarrassment. "Is it supposed to be like this?"
Em managed a weak nod.
"Do I need to change your towel?"
"Not yet." Em settled back onto the bed, her breath shallow.
"I'll be back." Aekeira rose, hurriedly filling a bowl with water from the nearby pitcher and fetched a washcloth. Returning to Em's side, she dipped the cloth in the water and began to gently clean her sister.
Em's skin was burning hot and Aekeira took care to avoid contact, making sure only the washcloth touched her body.
Em drifted in and out of sleep, occasionally wincing or moaning in pain. Aekeira's throat tightened, fighting back tears as she ran the wet cloth over Em's arm, down her chest, and over her ribs. Her sister was clearly suffering.
Em stirred restlessly, murmuring incoherent words.
"What did you say?” Aekeira leaned closer, straining to hear.
"I want him," Em cried, a tear slipping down her cheek. "My Beloved."
"He's needed in court, Em. I'm sure he would be here if he could," Aekeira lied gently, hoping to soothe her.
Em nodded, then let out another pained sound as more fluid leaked from her parted legs. Aekeira replaced the soaked towel with a fresh one. Eventually she breathed a sigh of relief as Em's breathing evened out in sleep.
The door creaked open. "How is she?" Lord Herod entered, his voice hushed.
"She just fell asleep." Aekeira drew the sheet over Em's form, brushing away a tear. She looked at Lord Herod with concern. "Is it always like this?"
He nodded solemnly. "Sometimes worse, sometimes better. It's the nature of the heat. She'll recover, don't worry too much."
"But why does it happen this way?"
He paused at the foot of the bed, considering his words. "During heat, a female experiences extreme lust and unnatural stamina to endure three days of continuous coupling. Something entirely impossible outside of heat. Any harm that comes then, she won't feel, due to the overwhelming arousal. It's like being dosed with a powerful drug, but now it’s wearing off."
"Beloved..." Em murmured in her sleep, shifting restlessly, her face contorted.
"What about the grand king?" Aekeira hesitated, dread creeping in. "He spent three days with her in this state. Do you think he's realized that Em... that Em is his..."
"I don't know, child. Let's hope not," Lord Herod sighed. "We had a visitor last night–the Werewolf King and his entourage. They waited for the grand king, even after the grand lords tried to receive them. It's a matter of importance. The grand king will be occupied for some time, perhaps even journeying to Furx."
"The werewolf kingdom?" Aekeira echoed.
"Yes. We are allies. Recently, important matters have arisen between our kingdoms. The point is, he'll be very busy for a while."
Razarr's jaw hung slack.
The sword he had been polishing hovered in his grasp, forgotten. Galeb, his third-in-command, had similarly abandoned his task of cleaning their shield, equally shocked.
"Are you certain of what you just said?" Razarr finally managed, his eyes fixed on his second.
"Absolutely," Mich said gravely. "I doubted it myself at first, but my source is impeccable."
Razarr continued to stare, half-expecting Mich to break into laughter and reveal it all as a jest. But after centuries of fighting side-by-side, Razarr knew Mich was not one to trifle with such matters.
"Emeriel is a girl?" The words tasted absurd even as he spoke them.
"Not only that," Mich continued, his voice low, "she's a Syren who just went through her first heat. And spent it with the grand king."
"Impossible!" Galeb hissed. "This is madness!"
Yet, a strange sense of clarity washed over Razarr. The pieces of the puzzle were finally clicking into place—the feral beast's odd behavior toward the boy, the unexplainable events surrounding Emeriel... it all made a twisted kind of sense now. This was the missing link.
"Are you absolutely sure your sources are reliable, Mich?" Galeb pressed. "I trust your judgment, but this..."
"I kept watch on the boy, as ordered," Mich explained. "But he vanished from the fortress a few days ago. Initially, I assumed it was a harmless escapade. He was at a high lord's estate, and I thought perhaps there was a... sexual thing going on. But after two days passed with no sign of him, I grew suspicious. Especially when all the male staff had been dismissed, replaced by female soldiers."
"The telltale sign of a heat," Razarr murmured, tracing the grooves of his sword with a fingertip.
"Exactly." Mich sat beside them. "But I had to be certain. So I had one of the soldiers taken by my men. He wouldn't divulge a thing, no matter how much we... persuaded him." Mich snorted. "Damn thing was loyal to a fault. But when I heard in the fortress the grand king was off helping a young female through her heat, my suspicions grew. Still, I needed confirmation. So, I had my men kidnap the soldier's bondmate, threaten to slit her throat if he didn't talk."
Galeb hummed in approval. "Then, he talked, I assume."
"Spilled everything. The boy is actually a girl. A Syren."
"No shit.” Galeb chuckled. “The little cunt deceived us all. Finally, a real reason to eliminate the boy. This crime will get him publicly executed. The Master is going to love this. A lot," Galeb added with relish.
"My thoughts exactly. We inform him upon his return," Mich agreed.
"We need to eliminate the girl. Fast," Razarr spoke up.
"Should we?” Galeb hesitated. “But. Lord Zaiper—"
"Lord Zaiper is in the mountains and won't return until tomorrow or the next, depending on how fast he concludes his dealings. That girl needs to be gone sooner than that. He always wanted that boy dead." Razarr rose and began to pace, his mind racing. "Her recovery should be over soon. This time, we kill her for good."
"That boy—girl, Emeriel—is as fast as a cheetah, maybe even faster. Have you forgotten?" Galeb's lip thinned. "Knowing he's a girl makes it even more embarrassing how she outran our men last time."
"Not this time," Razarr countered with the barest hint of a smile. "It's impossible to have that much energy immediately after heat recovery."
"Why the hurry?” Mich questioned, frowning. “Why eliminate her in secret when she can be publicly executed for her crimes?"
Because if Razarr’s hunch was correct, that girl might be the grand king's Soulbond . She has to die. The sooner, the better.
"Deceiving the four rulers? Keeping such a secret? Making fools of them? Her crime is far too great,” Mich argued. “Instead of assassination, we should make public execution the first option. We wait for the Master to return before making any move."
Razarr shook his head, determination hardened his features. "Get the men ready. Once she steps out of that estate, we kill her.