Chapter 17 17

Chapter 17 17
\- Eudora’s POV

My face must have paled at Yamal’s words. The room tilted slightly, and if Oberon’s arms weren’t wrapped around me, I might have lost my footing. “They wanted me,” I whispered, dazed. “Not just any werewolf. Not just any member of my bloodline. Me.”

It couldn’t be a mistake. Everything was linked. My dad’s secrets, the contingency he’d written about in this journal, the Ruminants’ urge to capture me. I was at the heart of something horrible and feared more than I had ever before. Oberon pulled me tighter to him. His arms encircled me in a protective gesture, his body stiffening with panic.

“Tell me, then,” he demanded of Marjah, his tone allowing for no argument, “Every single thing you discovered.”

Marjah followed Yamal into the library. From the shadows, she approached. Indeed, she was just as filthy and bloodied as he was. Her clothing was in tatters, soaked with blood. However, she was unharmed, and I suddenly felt lighter. Her gaze flicked over my person, assessing every inch of me, despite the distance between us. It was habit to verify that something wasn’t flawed. Yamal came into the library, and behind him emerged Marjah, filth and blood coating her borrowed clothes and torn remnants of fabric. She came closer, and relief soothed through me. She gave Oberon and me a nod of respect, then looked me over thoroughly.

“The facility was underground,” Yamal said, his voice weary and pins from the dark. “It was archaic, as if it had been there for years. Mayhaps even since fathers beyond...hidden deep beneath the soil of the forest. We hardly noticed it.”

I inched closer to the fire that was my Fae mates warmth, and he rubbed soothing circles along my spine. However, they did anything to alleviate the horror that had torn me to pieces. “The prisoners. They were held in cages.” Yamal’s voice dimm, absolutely pitch-black, filtered through the room. “The iron was bounded with powers; the bars were held secure by dark powers. However, the haughty captives were not the only ones there.”

My mind felt queasy as I tightened my grip on Oberon’s.

“What kind of experiments?” Oberon asked, and I knew from his tone that he already guessed the answer. “Werewolves that apparently altered them. They mixed Ruminant essence with them. They tried to make hybrids. They hoped to create creatures with the werewolves’ strengths but the dark magic of Ruminants.” Yamal’s tone was strained, barely holding his own anger in. “Almost all of their attempts failed. Most of the subjects died during the process. The ones that lived were senseless, feral. We had to kill many of them.”

The room turned silent. I could hear my own heartbeat and feel Oberon’s chest rise and fall quickly against my back. Marjah spoke up. I heard hate and something that might be fear in her tone. “They had a room dedicated to the princess.” Everyone turned their eyes to me.
“What do you mean?” I managed to say despite my throat feeling too tight. “Drawings. Plans. Notes about her bloodline and its properties.” Marjah looked troubled. “The walls were covered in sketches of you, Eudora. Your family tree to who knows how many generations back. There was information about your ancestry, your heritage as a witch. Sketches of what you looked like.”

Oberon asked, his voice dead calm, the kind of tone that preceded violence. “And how do you mean properties?”

She shook her head, returning her eyes to Oberon. “I do not understand what they wrote. They used many terms I never saw, relating them to your name. But what told me that they refer to you, Eudora, as a vessel and a key.” My blood froze at the words. A vessel and a key. I read the same descriptions in my father’s journal. “They mentioned an awakening. Something would occur at her twenty-first birthday.”

My birthday. Six months. Oberon demanded, “What kind of awakening?” Marjah said the document was not clear. Something would activate, power, or ability dormant currently. Marjah pulled the folded papers from within the jacket. I grabbed what could before retreat. Ruminants caught us inside the forest and attacked. We barely escaped. It was Oberon’s concern that did not leave me. His face relaxed, the hardness left his eyes as he gazed down at me. His eyes were softer, and my chest ached.

“Did you bring the documents?” Oberon asked Yamal. He nodded. More folded papers were pulled from inside his jacket. They were all stained, blood, and dirt but readable. Oberon gently set me aside and spread the documents at the table nearby. We all crowded, trying to view the document, and everyone leaned in close reading the text. The writing was not our language.

They were a mix of languages and several symbols after I was not familiar with ancient scripts and magical notations. Some phrases were English well known as others were foreign. Purple moon bloodline. Witch ancestry. Seal bearer.

“What is the seal bearer?” I whispered low, and Oberon said,

“if you are a seal bearer. It means something was placed inside. It is to be unlocked or released.” My hand went to the moonstone at my fridge the pendant warmer or colder at my touch. Was this connected? Did my father do something to me while I wasn’t looking?

Oberon nodded, “that’s settled; we need to talk to Seraphina now. Send riders right away to the witch realm!”

Yamal nodded, stood up, and started to leave the tent, but Oberon’s voice stopped him. I saw the lord start to study the documents once more. “Take extra guards,” he ordered. It was an odd choice. I looked at him, not understanding. “If the Ruminants are watching for her, they might intercept our messengers.” I watched the lord’s back as Yamal agreed.

“Understood, Your Grace.” Marjah was by my side in the next moment. She gently hugged me, forcing my body to shake in fear finally. I smiled weakly and let the fear and confusion settle in my heart.

“I am scared,” I admitted quietly against her shoulder.

“I know,” my cousin murmured before pressing me close. “But we will figure this out. You’re not alone. You have me. You have your aunt, and the Night Fang pack. And you have him, whether you want to admit it or not.” Marjah tilted her head to where Oberon was reading through reports for the second time.

“Now, let’s get you cleaned up.” When she pulled away after a minute, I noticed the sheer number of cuts and bruises she had accumulated. “You are hurt,” I frowned. “We need to get you to a healer.”

“It’s nothing,” Marjah waved it off. Her eyes betrayed her as they did when she first saw me. “You should see the other guy. Actually, you should see several other guys. I lost count after the fifth Ruminant.”

Oberon spoke then, surprising both of us. “you fought well. Yamal reported that you saved three prisoners single-handedly. Took down six Ruminants and held a defensive position while the others evacuated.” Marjah preened at the praise, straightening even more. “I did what needed to be done. Those prisoners deserved to be saved.”

“Your aunt trained you well.”

“She did.” Marjah’s smile was fierce. “Morgana does not tolerate weakness in any of her warriors. Male or female.”

“Yamal was impressed,” Oberon added. “Although, he would rather eat glass than admit it out loud.”

Despite everything, despite my fear and my confusion and my terror at the prospect of what was going to happen in the next handful of hours, I smiled slightly when my cousin was mentioned.

“You two did not kill each other then?” Marjah’s expression was one of annoyance.

“He is insufferable. Bossy. Arrogant. He questions every move I make. He believes his way is the only way.” But even with the irritation, there was... I did not know how to describe it. A heat beneath her anger. Oberon noticed it. His eyebrow arching, amusement crossing his face.

“And yet, you worked well together.”

Marjah scoffed. “We survived together. There is a difference.”

Before anyone could question the odd back and forth of my aunt’s adopted daughter and my cousin, a commotion erupted in the hallway outside the library. Raised voices. Someone arguing with the guards. A woman’s voice, sharp and angry. Then Esmeralda burst into the library, a wild look in her eyes, her hair in disarray. She looked from Oberon to...smiled tightly.

“Is it true? Did the Ruminants actually target Eudora? Her, specifically?” Oberon’s face hardened at her entrance. He shifted his posture slightly, became more guarded.

“That is none of your concern, Esmeralda.” Her eyes narrowed.

“Of course it is my concern. If she is dangerous...if.” Her eyes widened, her voice rising in tempo. “If they mean to target her. Eudora is... Ruminant in some way. She puts everyone living in this palace in danger. Every person that I protect is undeniably at risk because of her.”

She turned to me, and her emerald eyes suddenly looked so cold and alien. I felt her accusing stare with every softer word. “Maybe you should leave. For everyone’s safety. Go somewhere far away when you can’t curse all these innocent people with your cursed bloodline.”

These words were nothing but physical blows. And there was part of me who agreed with hers. Part of me that thought maybe I should leave, should keep myself away as a treat in the first place. “Watch your tongue when you speak to the queen,” Marjah stepped forward immediately.

Esmeralda laughed bitterly. “Queen? She’s been married less than a week and has even shared his bed. She’s never consummated the marriage. The queen was left to me as a liability, as a danger. Not as an adviser.”

These words hurt way harder than any blow could. Because, in fact, they had a point. I hadn’t ever claimed this marriage. I hadn’t ever claimed either one of the titles. I was still an outsider here, still with understandable suspicion. I felt like a small child. Insignificant. “I am trying to protect you and this kingdom from a threat you refuse to notice.”

“Get out,” Oberon said quietly, but even his quiet voice sounded like a command.

Esmeralda looked at him in shock. “Oberon, I...”

“You are dismissed from the palace,” he said firmly.

“You’re choosing her over me?” she said in a slightly broken voice. “Over someone who was your friend for years?” Her hand sought mine, then, and she yanked it away, interlacing her fingers with his. He gave me a slight tug to insist I come with him, so I moved closer, and he drew me to his side. “Who supported you through it all?” And who you loved when no one else did.

“Yes,” he said simply. “Yes, I am.”