CHAPTER 33: QUEEN HEALER

CHAPTER 33: QUEEN HEALER
Maya’s POV

“How much for this place? Give your best price,” Valerie asked, aggressively negotiating with the snobby businessman who owned the downtrodden place. The rundown shop looked on the verge of closing down yet the businessman did not budge even a bit from his preposterous asking price.

“Ten thousand gold lycan coins. That is my best and final price,” he resolutely replied. “You can leave my shop if you can’t afford it!”

“You,” Valerie tried to jump over the smug man but Carl held her against his chest, the mate bond doing wonders that his strength couldn’t achieve. Valerie calmed down under Carl’s touch but did not leave the place without muttering curses under her breath.

I tugged at Valerie’s arm and smiled. “It’s ok. We will find something,” I signed.

Valerie sighed. “They all are treating us like shit. Clearly the last one was a desperate seller.”

Carl suddenly yelped and our eyes immediately darted towards the direction he was pointing. An old man almost went crashing down on his knees, clutching the left side of his chest.

I caught him just in time while Carl and Valerie quickly brought out medical kits and a stretcher.

‘Mister, please don’t worry. We will save you,’ I quietly promised before initiating CPR. 

“We don’t have time to take him to a hospital. We need to perform the surgery in a safe and quiet place. We have the tools, Maya,” Carl informed while Valerie and I gently placed the old man on the stretcher.

Carl was right. My eyes wandered around the neighborhood before Carl’s alarmed voice rang out behind Valerie and me. I had to credit Valerie’s strong support and unquestioning nature while Carl shouted his apprehensions behind us, almost panting and unable to catch up with supernatural speed.

“That shopkeeper just shunned us. He will not let us in! We need a safe place!!” Carl shouted.

However, to his utter surprise, the shopkeeper threw the door open and cooperated with us.

“I am so sorry for earlier! Please save my father! I will do anything for you,” the young wolf pled, tears in his eyes, much to Carl’s shock.

Carl took the man’s folded hands in both of his and grimly said, “We will do our best. We need hot water and towels. Make sure no one barges in and disturbs us during the surgery.”

“Thank you! I will do as you wish.”

“Don’t thank us yet,” Carl replied and hurried to help me.

The shopkeeper handed over the small tub of water with shaking hands and almost looked on the verge of passing out when I took out the blade to cut the elder werewolf open.

I twitched two of my fingers towards Valerie and gestured quickly. She nodded and replied.

“Don’t worry, Maya. I will look after him,” she said and helped the shopkeeper out of the room.

“Are you ready, Maya?” Carl asked.

In response, I let the blade slash through the old man’s chest.

Halfway through the surgery, screams and profanities reached my ears. One look at Carl and he understood what I needed. He took out liquid silver and splashed it generously over the door and on the floor. Being a human had its own advantages. He was the only one out of us, who was unaffected by that amount of silver and always kept cans of them for self-defense.

Silver burned werewolves but it was personal hell for lycans. Even a speck of silver could send them screaming for a river full of ice water. Lycans experienced everything a hundred-fold more than werewolves, including their feelings. They were ultra-sensitive and that was the reason they were so less in number despite being the strongest beings to walk on the face of Earth.

“We need to hurry, Maya. Valerie might be in danger. A mob has surrounded the shop. They seem to be on the verge of pelting stones at the structure and forcing their way in,” Carl informed.

I frowned. This was the most critical part of the surgery. I needed to stay calm and composed for it. Hurrying it through could kill the old werewolf.

Carl sighed. “Sorry, please take your time. I will handle everything outside. Don’t worry,” he said and took the cans of silver solutions with him.

The commotion only got louder and worse when Carl went. The oppressive heat and lack of ventilation in the small room was making my head dizzy. Closing my eyes and clearing my thoughts away, I set back to work. I had to save this man. A young man was waiting for his father.

“Nooooo! Don’t enter! The patient might get infected if you open the door. The Queen is performing a surgery,” I heard Carl shout helplessly after a boom resounded throughout the place, shaking the roof above us.

“Not a word out of you! I will behead you and your mate for conspiring with the Queen to kill the Minister of Trade for not letting her purchase any of the shops in town.”

The voice seemed familiar but I did not really think much about it. I was too focused on stitching the man close that I did not even turn when the door blasted open.

“You evil woman! What have you done?” Selene screamed, her shrill voice slicing through the thick air of the cramped shop.

Her eyes darted to the blood-soaked floor, the scattered instruments, the wooden table that had been turned into a makeshift operating bed, and finally to the unconscious old man whose chest rose and fell faintly beneath the crude bandages I had tied across his ribs.

A bruised werewolf stumbled in behind her, clutching his burned arms, the clear pawn she had used to wrench open the silver-coated doors. Instantly, I grabbed the man and injected him with an anti-dote before he went into shock. The werewolf passed out in my arms.

Selene’s gaze sharpened, her lips curving into a poisonous smirk as she turned to the growing mob outside and lifted her voice.

“Look at her hands, covered in blood. Look at this chaos. Do you see now? Do you see what your so-called Queen has done? She killed the Minister of Trade with her own hands. And now this poor werewolf. This is not medicine, it is murder!”

The crowd gasped, a wave of noise surging like the sea in a storm. I froze only for a heartbeat before my eyes flicked to Carl and Valerie. Carl was already at the man’s side, checking his pulse, while Valerie’s trembling hands hovered near the vitals monitor we had barely rigged up with spare parts.

They both looked to me for strength, for direction. Selene’s accusation had already begun to spread like wildfire through the gathered villagers, the whispers catching, the doubt curdling. “Murderer,” someone shouted.

Then another: “Execute her before she curses us all!”

Selene stood proudly at the threshold, bathing in their hatred, her hands folded neatly across her glowing stomach. Her voice dripped with false sorrow as she pressed a hand to her chest.

“My beloved people, you trusted her because she wears a crown she never deserved. But she has always been dangerous, cursed, mute, unworthy. And now she has shown her true colors by ending the life of one of your own leaders. The Minister of Trade came for healing and instead found death at her hands. This is what she is. A butcher dressed as a healer!”

The crowd’s chants grew louder. “Kill the Queen. Execute her now. Blood for blood.”

Stones rattled against the walls, one shattering the narrow window. Valerie flinched but stepped in front of the old man instinctively, shielding him.

Carl snarled in frustration and shouted back at them, “Are you fools? He is alive! The Minister still breathes because of her. She saved him when no one else could!” But his words were drowned beneath the rising roar.

Selene’s smirk widened, her eyes gleaming as they flickered to me. She knew I could not shout back. She knew my silence was her weapon. My throat burned with unspoken words, but I forced my face calm, steady. I reached into my coat pocket, pulled out a small chalkboard and a piece of chalk I always carried, and scribbled swiftly. When I raised it, the words were bold, simple, impossible to ignore:

“He is alive. I am saving him. Look.”

Gasps rippled through the mob as Carl pulled back the cloth to reveal the faint, rhythmic rise and fall of the Minister’s chest. The crowd stilled, their chants faltering for a moment.

But Selene would not be undone so easily. She turned sharply to the man at her side, the head imperial physician, draped in fine black robes trimmed with gold, his lined face creased with disdain. “Tell them the truth, honored physician. Tell them what your expert eye sees.”

The physician stepped forward, bowing slightly to Selene before straightening with a sneer fixed on me.

“What I see is malpractice. What I see is a woman with no training in the sacred arts of medicine tearing open a man’s chest like a butcher slaughters a hog. She has destroyed him. His breaths are shallow because death already grips him. If he dies, it will be her fault.” He looked at the villagers, his voice deep and authoritative. “Would you trust the life of your kin to hands that cannot even hold the tools of our profession? She is not one of us. She is dangerous.”

Murmurs rose again, anger rekindling, and Selene pressed her hand dramatically against her stomach, feigning fear. “I beg you, protect me and my unborn children from this monster,” she cried, her voice trembling in perfect mimicry of innocence. “She has already destroyed one life; she will destroy more if we let her.”

I wrote quickly again, my hand steady despite the fury roaring in my veins. “If I meant to kill him, why is he alive? Ask yourselves. Ask why they charge you fortunes for herbs that grow freely in the forest. Ask why they diagnose you for free but sell medicine you cannot afford. Ask why only they profit while you suffer.”

Valerie seized the cue, her voice ringing out like steel striking stone. “She is telling the truth! Maya is mute, yes, but she is no liar. You know this in your hearts. Who here has ever been healed at the royal infirmary without leaving poorer than before? Who has ever been turned away because they were too low-born, too sick, too unworthy in their eyes? Selene and her imperial doctors do not heal you, they bleed you dry.”

The mob faltered again, torn between fury and doubt. The physician’s face darkened, and he strode toward the bed, reaching as though to inspect the Minister himself. I slapped his hand away, my eyes locked onto his, unwavering. The challenge burned between us.

He hissed through his teeth, “You dare lay hands on me?”

I raised the chalkboard once more, holding it inches from his face. “You dare poison him first and then claim to save him? I saw the vial you slipped him. Did you think no one noticed?”

The physician’s eyes widened, just for a flicker, before he masked it with contempt. But it was enough. Enough for the crowd to see. Enough for the doubt to flare brighter. They began to whisper, louder this time, suspicion spreading like cracks in glass.

Selene’s face twisted with rage. She gestured sharply, and her personal guards surged forward, armored and armed, their eyes cold. “Seize her. End this farce. The people demand justice.”

The guards lunged, swords flashing, but I moved faster. My wolf surged through me, guiding my body with instinct and grace. I sidestepped the first strike, caught the wrist of the guard, and pressed two fingers into the precise point on his arm. He crumpled with a groan, his weapon clattering to the floor. Another came from behind; I twisted, using his momentum, and tapped his neck just below the ear. He collapsed instantly, unconscious before his body hit the ground. Two more rushed me at once, but my hands found the points above their hearts, and they dropped like felled trees. I did not kill. I would not. But I showed them that I could.

The mob fell silent, stunned by the swiftness, by the precision. Valerie gasped, “Maya, behind you!”

I spun, but too late. Selene was there, her dagger glinting in the torchlight, the silver blade aimed straight for my back. My heart stopped. I tried to move but the room felt suddenly heavy, my limbs caught mid-motion. Time slowed, the crowd’s screams echoing around me like distant thunder.

And then warmth engulfed me. Arms, strong as iron yet gentle as silk, wrapped around my waist and yanked me back against a chest I knew better than my own heartbeat. My body was spun around, and instead of pain, I saw the impossible.

Sebastian.

The dagger sank deep into his back, silver burning against his flesh, but his golden eyes never left mine. His face was fierce, radiant with fury and devotion, and his body shielded mine completely. He did not flinch. He did not stagger. He only held me tighter, as though I were the only thing anchoring him to the world. The crowd gasped, their voices breaking into chaos.

Selene’s dagger slipped from her trembling fingers, her face drained of all color. “No,” she whispered, stumbling back, her eyes wide with horror. “No, my love, it was not meant for you. I never—”

But Sebastian ignored her. He bent his head close to mine, his breath warm against my skin despite the poison searing through him. His hand cupped my face, tilting it up, and his lips brushed my temple in the softest, most deliberate kiss, a vow carved into my very soul. His voice was hoarse but steady, meant only for me.

“My Queen. My mate. Mine.”

The world blurred, my vision swimming with tears. The mob, Selene, the physician, all of them faded until there was only him, bleeding for me, protecting me, loving me without hesitation. My heart thundered so loudly I thought it might shatter.

And in that suspended moment, as Selene stared at him in shattered disbelief, Sebastian pulled me closer, his lips ghosting against mine, and the promise of war and love hung between us like lightning waiting to strike.