92

Time passes in blurry, slow flashes, the scene changing with every anxious thump of Jacques’ heart.

*Thump*.

He and Dresdan arrive at the source of the scream to find a Dweller gnawing at Dove’s throat. Her blood stains the snow, spreading outward like waves and seeping into the ground.

*Thump*.

His vision clouded with rage and horrid fear. In one swift motion, the healer ripped the creature off her – his Dove – and plunged his hand through its chest, ripping out its heart with a sickening crack and squelch.

But it’s too late.

Turning to face the princess, the healer could already tell, without checking her pulse, that she was barely clinging to life. She’s lost too much blood, the gash in her throat too severe to heal with a few drops of vampire blood. They’re going to lose her.

*Thump*.

Dresdan stepped between them, blocking the healer’s numbing view of Dove to scoop her into his arms. She drapes limply in his hold, arm flailing beside his leg and head lulled back, her lips parted and already turning light blue.

“Come on,” Dresdan calls to the healer, beckoning with his head for him to step closer so he can transport them back to the castle.

But Jacques can hardly move, even less process a thought. His ears ring with shock and terror, his eyes locked on the lifeless face of his princess, and his feet remain rooted in the snow in fear that if he moved, he’d sink to his knees and never get up again.

Realizing they’ll lose Dove at this rate, Dresdan utters a low grunt and steps towards the healer. Gripping his arm with his free hand, he commands his shadows to transport them through voids and time all the way back to the castle.

*Thump*.

Jacques stumbles when they appear right in the throne room, dropping to his knees. Still, his eyes never leave Dove’s face. He’s vaguely aware of a hysteric cacophony of shrieks, a cry, and several people swarming them at the sight of the princess’ state. His trance breaks when someone steps between him and Dresdan, diverting to the floor where a small puddle of her blood has accumulated. She’s bleeding out, and for once, he doesn’t know how to help.

He feels useless.

*Thump*.

The next thing he knows, the healer’s being hoisted up by a pair of arms. His head slowly tilts up…and he looks right into the murderous eyes of Lorcan, staring him to oblivion.

“I ought to *burn* you on the spot for what you did.”

The words pierce Jacques’ very soul when they pierce through the ringing in his ears.

This…this is his fault. All of it. If only he didn’t agree to Dove’s idea to run away, if only he didn’t take her to those caves so far from civilization…if only he stayed away from her like Gustav warned him to. Then none of this would’ve happened. They wouldn’t have been attacked by Dwellers, and Dove wouldn’t be bleeding out as they speak.

*Thump*.

“Lorcan, stop it!” Elle’s voice cut through the palpable tension as she cradles Dove’s limp hand in hers. “Our daughter’s bleeding out in our home and Jacques is the only one who can save her now.”

“He’s the reason she’s bleeding out!” Lorcan’s hand moves to the healer’s throat, his grip tightening to cut off his air.

Jacques wheezes, feet thrashing above the ground as the king hoists him off the ground with only one hand. Still, the only person he looks at is Dove. Her blood spattered over her skin, clothes, and pooling on the floor. Her pale complexion. The epitome of a vampire.

*Thump-thump*.

His heart misses and thumps twice all at once.

A vampire!

Dove consumed his blood back at the cave. In fact, she took just enough to complete a full transformation in a day – which is also just enough to heal her from any wound or infliction she might have obtained over the next few hours.

Meaning…she might survive!

“You’ll pay for –”

“Wait!” Jacques cuts Lorcan off mid-threat, raising his hands to fight the grip around his throat. “Dove…the princess…my blood…”

Lorcan’s glare burns through the healer’s hazel eyes. “What *about* your blood?”

“She…con…ah…” His vision flashes hazily, his oxygen running dangerously low. It won’t kill him, but he’ll be even more useless if he’s passed out and perhaps even thrown in the dungeons.

However, it is Dresdan who steps in to speak up for the healer, “I walked in on the princess consuming his blood.”

Both Lorcan and Elle’s eyes widen at the meaning and severity of the news. But it’s Elle’s heart that elevates a hopeful beat, silently praying that her daughter consumed enough to survive her current state. The king, on the other hand, slowly lowers Jacques to his face, holding him just close enough so the healer can feel his breath on his skin when he seethes.

“*How. Much*.”

“…enough.” He chokes.

That’s all Lorcan needs to know. Dove consumed enough blood to survive her injuries – because she’s already undergoing the transformation.

The king doesn’t know what to feel. Betrayed that his best friend could do this to him? Enraged because his daughter’s mortality was fading? Murderous because he could smell Jacques on Dove – like his scent permanently clings to Elle. The healer has sullied his daughter for good, not only by taking her virginity and doing gods know what else to her. But he also ripped her from the best years of her life that were still to come.

She’ll never age a day further, stuck in a nineteen-year-old body for the rest of her life, she’ll never enjoy the taste of food and drink, again, and she’ll never be given the change at having children of her own.

All of it, gone.

“You’re dead.” The moment those two words left the king’s mouth, his shadows webbed around Jacques and started creeping to his face, threatening to slither into his mouth, nose, eyes, ears, and any openings they could find to rip him apart from the inside.

The healer’s heart cease to beat when he realizes he won’t live to see if Dove survives. He won’t live another minute if Lorcan had his way. This was it…this is how his immortal life will come to an end.

“Lorcan, stop!”

The next moment, Elle reaches for the king’s hand around the healer’s throat. The moment she touches him, it’s like Lorcan is broken from a murderous trance and plunges back to reality, blinking from Jacques to his wife in mild surprise.

“You’re angry, I understand,” she tells him softly. “But let’s wait for Dove to heal and wake before making any rash decisions. Wouldn’t you want to hear her side of the story first before deciding upon a punishment for Jacques?”

His steel blue eyes dart between her and the healer. He really wants to kill him right now and be done with it, but Elle was right. He is angry, and his anger tends to overrule his better judgement most of the time. And it probably would’ve won if Elle’s gift didn’t calm him down and instil him with rational thought.

Lorcan opens his hand and Jacques drops to the floor, coughing and choking violently. One by one, the king’s shadows disappear into his back as he approaches his brother to take his daughter into his own arms.

“Your fate shall be decided the moment my daughter awakes,” he declares firmly without sparing the healer a look. “Until then, you shall remain in the dungeons.”

Without warning, four guards swarm Jacques and pull him off the floor. Defeated, he allows them to drag him off the lower level of the castle, all while hoping that his blood was truly enough to save the princess.

If not, then he might just end his life himself before Lorcan can decide on a punishment.