Chapter 18 Chapter Eighteen
Sylvan barreled through the halls of the castle toward his chambers, ignoring the faces of gawking servants and guards alike. He didn’t care what they thought, his priority was the small woman who had passed out in his arms a few moments ago. He could feel her blood still running down her skin and over his arms where he held her. A bone in his back snapped and he had to stop for a moment to collect himself. He closed his eyes and buried his nose into her neck. He inhaled deep, calming the wolf scratching at the cage in his mind, reminding it that their mate was safe now. Once his bones realigned to his human form, he continued on his mission.
It was in his chambers he’d felt the first sharp slice across his back. Sylvan had dumped his armor at the door and proceeded with the long procedure of removing his clothing after a long tour of duty. A tub of steaming water sat in the corner, beckoning him to sink into its depths. With his new assignment being to find a mate, there was no harm in indulging in the perks of royalty. Gooseflesh rose over his skin as he sank into the warm water with restorative powers. He didn’t dottle though. Years at war had trained his body not to enjoy things for too long. He scrubbed the dirt and grime from his skin quickly turning the water from a crystal blue to a deep mud.
He’d stepped out and looked longingly at his bed. So many years he’d slept on the floor and for a moment he considered laying a blanket down. But his exhaustion was like a second skin and he found himself moving toward the comforting heavy curtains without the ability to stop his own limbs. He mechanically pulled the curtain back and the moment he inhaled he stumbled a step back. There, hidden in the sheets was the scent of the ocean. His beast surged forward and before Sylvan could stop it, his shift was already underway. He prepared for the chaos, the power, the screaming and lack of control.
But instead his wolf didn’t complete the shift. It was as though he’d forced his way to the forefront without taking over completely. His senses were heightened as though he were in wolf form but he remained in his human skin. He reached his hand out and touched the comforter. A soothing purr-like growl reverberated throughout his body. He leaned forward and crawled over the bed. He tugged the curtain until he was encased in the space, the scent almost overpowering in its headiness. He buried his nose into his pillow, into the deep scent that lulled his mind and his soul.
He’d been relishing in the scent of her. After the day he’d had it was a welcome treat to have the essence of her everywhere, floating through the air, soaking into his sheets though she’d assured him she wouldn’t allow that to happen. Then the first lancing of pain raced across the skin of his back.
The pain had been debilitating, all encompassing, made even more so by the fact that he had no idea what was causing it. It wasn’t one of his nightmares, nor was it anything he could visually identify. Then it struck him… his mate, the blood bond. Someone was hurting her. He didn’t hold his wolf back as he searched through the castle for her. Even with that side of himself at the forefront, it hadn’t been quick enough. With each crack he felt against his back, he’d stumbled, fallen to the ground. How she hadn’t passed out from the pain was an astonishing feat. When he saw her there, on the ground, bone peeking out from the ribbons of flesh that used to cover her unblemished back, he knew his wolf would surge.
Only her fear, that singular moment where it subtly changed the salty-sea scent of hers, did his wolf cower back and allow Sylvan to get her out of the situation with minimal bloodshed. Bloodshed there would be, he promised himself, but not tonight. Not now. Not when she needed him.
“Sylvan!” Nikolai called from down the hall. Someone had clearly alerted him to his Prince’s uncharacteristic behavior. “What the… what’s happened? Why are you bleeding?” he asked as he caught up to Sylvan’s determined gate.
“They were whipping her. I could feel it,” Sylvan growled, his wolf pacing in his cell as the anger returned.
“Through your bond? It’s that strong?”
“We’re blood bound. I did it when I caught her in the forest,” Sylvan explained.
Nikolai’s walk slowed as he digested this information. After a moment, he returned to Sylvan’s side. “Do you know how dangerous that is?” Nikolai asked. “If someone scents your blood in her…”
“She’s my maid. She’ll smell like me,” Sylvan argued.
Nikolai scoffed. “To people like me, that excuse will be bought, but to your parents? Your brother?”
They’d finally reached his chambers and Nikolai opened the doors for Sylvan to enter. “It had to be done in case she ran again.”
“Do you not remember what we were taught?” Nikolai asked. Sylvan stopped in front of the doors to his bedchamber. He turned to Nikolai, waiting for him to open the door but knowing he would have to listen to his rant first. “Blood binding is far more than a mixing of emotions and physical cohesion. She can manipulate you through it! Who is to say she hasn’t done so already?”
“Does it look like she’s manipulating me?” Sylvan asked, adjusting her weight in his arms.
“I heard what happened!” Delilah yelled from the doorway. By the time she reached them she was completely out of breath. She covered her mouth as she gasped. “Oh my Goddess… Why?”
“She apparently attacked a guard. Open the door, Delilah,” Sylvan commanded.
“No,” Nikolai said, stopping her by placing his hand on the knob. “She attacked a guard? Sylvan… she is a threat.”
“Let us in,” Sylvan said.
Nikolai sighed. “If you insist on doctoring her here, then take her to a guest room.”
“No, she’ll stay with me,” Sylvan growled.
“No, she won’t,” Nikolai said, not backing down. “Unless you want the whole castle to know you have found your fated.”
Sylvan scoffed. “I’ll tell them she’s my mistress.”
It was Delilah’s turn to scoff. They both turned to look at her. “Sorry, it’s just, even I wouldn’t believe that. You’ve never had a mistress, Sylvan.”
“What better time to take one, now that my parents seem dead set on me finding one anyway.”
Sylvan, knowing she needed medical attention and not wanting to stall any longer by arguing, moved away from them toward the next room down from his. He would simply wait until they left to move her to his room. Delilah and Nikolai followed closely behind.
“What did you just say?” Nikolai asked.
“My parents want me to choose a mate,” Sylvan told them.
“Perfect timing!” Delilah said, opening the door so Sylvan could carry Isla inside.
Sylvan glared at her. “I will not choose a mate, Delilah. We’ve discussed this. Now, look at her,” he said, carefully laying her down on her stomach atop the mattress.
As Delilah hovered over Isla, her hands evaluating the various injuries, Nikolai stepped up next to Sylvan and crossed his arms.
“Have they chosen women for you?”
“Apparently. They’ll be paraded before me over the next two weeks ending in a ball where I’m meant to choose one of them to be my chosen mate and wife.”
“So I take it we aren’t leaving at dawn?” Nikolai pressed.
Sylvan sighed. “No.”
Delilah sat back on her knees and pressed her palms to her thighs. “It’s bad, Sylvan. She’s not healing.”
“But my blood flows through her.”
“It’s not enough for this level of injury.”
“What can I do?”
“Well,” Delilah stood up and away from the bed. “You could mark her,” Delilah tried.
Sylvan growled and turned away so that he could run his hands through his hair. “I will not deliberately put her in danger. A mark by me is a death sentence.”
“Well you have to do something! She’s your fated mate! She is…”
“Let’s not forget these walls have ears, hm?” Nikolai interrupted. “We cannot let the people in this castle discover who she is to the prince. It is not just dangerous for her, but him as well.”
Delilah put her hands on her hips. “If you refuse to mark her, then the best I can suggest is to heal her yourself.”
“Heal her my…”
“Clean her wounds, Sylvan,” Delilah instructed with a flick of her hand toward Isla’s back.
Nikolai coughed out a laugh. “You cannot mean…”
“Your blood in her veins is helping but the healing is much too slow, the concentration far too weak. You need to introduce more of yourself into her veins. Another mixing of bloods and cleaning her wounds. Your saliva is just as good as your blood plus your presence and bodily comfort would be enough to aid the process.” Delilah stepped up to him. “I will mix some remedies: a poultice, some tea to keep her under and help with the pain when she wakes. But what she really needs,” she said looking back at the girl who shifted uncomfortably in her sleep. “Is her mate, beside her.”
Delilah placed her hand on his shoulder once before going to get her remedies.
Nikolai took in a deep breath.
“Don’t,” Sylvan warned. “I know. I already know all of the risks. Get the fuck off my shoulder. I don’t need to hear the angel’s reminders tonight.”
“Fine then, I’ll be the devil,” Nikolai said, heading for the door. “Heal her wounds until they’re closed, then sleep in your own bed, Sylvan. The closer you get, the more dangerous. I say this, not as you beta or even as your friend, but as one of the only people who knows the extent of what you’ve done and what would happen if someone were to discover her. Distance yourself, now. Before it’s too late.”