Chapter 99 Chapter Ninety-Nine

Chapter 99 Chapter Ninety-Nine
Sylvan fought against the six dragon riders holding him down. Cole and Nikolai managed to get two of them off. Sylvan’s strength was waning as he felt the life draining from his mate, who had disappeared beneath the surface of the water two minutes earlier. His arms and legs were becoming numb, giving the dragon riders the upper hand. His wolf raged within his mind, thrashing against the doorway which Sylvan was incapable of opening for himself. He knew he only had a few moments before his strength was gone entirely and Isla would die beneath the water, just out of reach.

Sylvan screamed as he pushed up from the cold stone floor. He ratcheted his elbow back, and one of his subduers cried out after the pronounced sound of his nose breaking. He grabbed the one directly on top of him by the nape of the neck and flung him forward. With only Morris and another fucker on his back Sylvan managed to get to his feet. Morris wrapped his forearm around Sylvan’s neck, and his air supply disintegrated. The second man knocked him in the knees, bringing Sylvan back to the ground.  

The next moment, a beam of blue light shot up from the pool. Everyone stopped their struggle and looked to the water as the surface began to ripple and shift. The arms around Sylvan’s neck and legs loosened as he and the others stared in amazement at the images starting to play out along the water’s surface. They changed too quickly at first for him to be able to make out anything they depicted. Then the first vision came into focus. He recognized Queen Cecilia as she twirled someone in her arms. Then the visions shifted again, and he saw the back of a tall, lean man walking away. At the door, he turned, and a growl broke through Sylvan’s throat at the look of anger on Slade’s face as he glared down at the little girl whose memories they were watching unfold. Then the vision broke apart again, and he could see the bars of a cell and frail hands shaking as they clasped them. The memory showed various women in states of hopelessness. Then he saw Teresa.

“Are you forgetting something, Princess?” the younger version of Teresa asked.

A jolt ripped through Sylvan, surprising him with its intensity. He cried out and fell forward, clasping one hand to his heart as it threatened to lurch from his chest.

“Should we stop this?” Gregory called from somewhere to his left, sounding almost nervous.

Sylvan glanced up without lifting his head and saw the memory shift. The perspective changed, and the surface of the water depicted Isla from her cell, shaking in fear.

Sylvan shook his head. “No… No. Let this play out,” he commanded.

The water rippled and churned, growing more agitated as the memories flooded through too quickly to decipher.

“Focus, Isla,” Ameretta said, her eyes narrowed as she stared at the water her daughter was drowning in. “Remember what we’re looking for.”

Sylvan looked back to the water and closed his eyes. Isla… he whispered through their mindlink. Stay with me. Focus on Teresa and the council.

Isla didn’t respond, but the visions on the water did start to slow; rather than a memory of the council, one began to play out… with him. The perspective was from within a thicket of trees, facing a campfire where Sylvan, Nikolai, Cole, and a few of his closest informants sat, discussing the day’s battle and their next moves.

“I reject you as my mate, Cole of Deveraux,” Teresa whispered in her memory.

Sylvan felt the tearing of a bond slash through him. He clutched his chest at the same time as the memory faded into nothing.

“She… she can feel these memories?” Sylvan croaked, his glare searing into Ameretta’s back as he realized what he had felt was through his bond with Isla.

Ameretta’s shoulders tightened, but she didn’t respond. Sylvan looked to Teresa. She was being held up by Gregory, whose eyes never left the images playing out over the pool. She looked weak, not from blood loss but from the weight of recollection.

“Finally,” Ameretta whispered, bringing Sylvan’s attention back to the water.

Teresa walked through the opulent walls of the Ardanian Council compound. She pushed open the double doors leading to the round table where the council members gathered. Her eyes raked over the table, and Sylvan made a mental note of everyone there, scowling slightly at the sight of his brother seated beside Alpha Slade. This was recent. This was exactly what they needed to see.

“Gentlemen,” Teresa cooed, performing a mock curtsy.

“Stand up straight and behave, girl,” Breckenridge growled.

Sylvan wasn’t shocked to see the obstinate dragon elder in attendance. Generally, men and women from every nation were called to sit on the council from time to time. An elder from Deveraux had sat at that very seat since its conception. What he did find peculiar was that Breckenridge had attended this meeting. Perhaps that explained his resistance in letting Sylvan and Isla use Deveraux as a hideout. One thing he was certain of: they’d found their mole.

“Of course, I wouldn’t want to embarrass the great nation that birthed me,” Teresa answered with a roll of her eyes. “And certainly not the man who donated sperm for my conception, Father.”

“Father?” Cole gasped, his head whipping to stare at Teresa, who looked away with her mouth set in a fine line at finally having her identity, her lineage, her shame unmasked against her will.

“You know why you’re here,” Lord Kesher spoke, his voice steady and his presence commanding. As the reigning leader of the council, he didn’t need to raise his voice or demand respect. It was simply there.

Teresa shrugged. “I was told I am needed to help the new king of Eredhal track some difficult game.”

Kesher nodded and traced a pattern on the table before him. “That was the objective, yes. Now your mission has changed.”

“I am not a puppy you can kick in the right direction. I agreed to track the Mate Killer. If you brought me here using lies, I’m afraid we’ll have some issues and…”

“I want you to kill him,” Tristan said, sitting back in his seat and laying his arm over the back of the empty chair beside him.

Teresa laughed. “You want me to kill the Mate Killer? Is this some kind of joke?”

“Not just him,” Breckenridge said. “We want the Mate Killer, his second, his beta, the priestess he’s somehow leashed…”

“Should I get some ink to write this all down?” Teresa asked, still trying to control the laughter which shook her frame.
“So, you’re refusing?” Kesher asked, seeming unperturbed by her obstinacy.

“Why not just draw them to the council as they are most likely expecting? Is it not your wish to be civil and use your court system to make rulings to at least appear impartial and keep your pathetic population at ease? Bring the Mate Killer and his new mate here and put her on trial. Then kill them,” Teresa suggested with another shrug.

Kesher sighed, and the others in the room shifted uncomfortably. Teresa’s eyes moved around the room, and the dawning realization was poignant enough to ripple out through her memory.

“You all are afraid of her!” Teresa shouted.

“Quiet!” Breckenridge bellowed, standing from his chair to point a scornful finger at her.

“Sit, Breckenridge,” Kesher commanded, sending him a look that carried the power of an alpha wolf’s command. His eyes flashed to Teresa. “She is a fae hybrid. A Saltbound Luna Wolf,” he continued. “Yes, we are afraid of her and what her mate will do to the balance we’ve all sacrificed to achieve and maintain. That is why you will set out to kill them both while they are unsuspecting. If brought here, they will be waiting for an attempt on their life. It will be more difficult. With your… skill set… it should be easy, no?”

Teresa scoffed and crossed her arms in answer.

“This must be contained, quickly,” Kesher continued. “Before the continent learns of it. Before the news spreads too quickly. The longer it is drawn out, the more fear will grow in our people, the more they will demand a trial.”

“A trial may not be a bad thing,” Alpha Slade chimed in. All eyes turned to him. He shrugged. “I have some powerful weapons on my side. We can draw out the fae,” he said, nodding to Tristan. “We can wipe out the rest of the population and move forward on…”

“We are not warmongers,” Kesher hissed. “We do not operate to further your political or economic objectives. We are here to…”

“Play the continent like a stage, the people your puppets with their strings attached to your…” Teresa interrupted.

“Provide stability,” Kesher finished.

“Well,” Teresa said. “You won’t use me as your tool for your ‘peaceful’ crusades. Not anymore.”

Teresa turned for the door, but just before she reached it, a large clang echoed around the room. She paused, and her body stiffened as if she knew, just by the sound, what Kesher had laid out.

“You’re forgetting, Teresa,” Kesher said. Teresa turned, and her eyes locked on the metallic box, locked four times over with various chains and written incantations. Kesher smirked. “You don’t have a choice. You’ll do this for us.” He bobbed his head toward the corner of the room where a shadowy figure had been lurking. “And you’ll use the intel our informant brought to us to get it done.”

The figure emerged from the corner of the room and smirked as he bowed. “Happy to be of assistance, Sir,” Gregory responded with a gallant lilt to his voice.

The memory on the water snapped. The light which had illuminated it was swallowed by darkness. Sylvan felt a ripping pain that rivaled the severing of the mate bond from earlier. To his left, he heard a cry that was filled with pain that rivaled any he had ever heard. His head jerked to the side to see Teresa falling to her knees, her head held backward as she screamed her pain. The same pain tore through his chest, and he realized whatever connection Isla had formed with Teresa to see her memories was still intact. His wolf, subdued like everyone else had been in the room as they watched his mate conjure magic the likes of which they’d never even imagined, suddenly shoved forward. Though his wolf was kept from shifting due to the metal manacles still in place around his wrists, the push against his mind was enough to propel him forward. With everyone distracted, Sylvan dove into the water.