Chapter 69 Chosen - Amelia’s POV
The words hit me like a physical blow, stealing what little breath I had. "A bride selection?"
"In essence, yes," Blackthorn agreed, smoothing an invisible wrinkle from his pants. "Though we're calling it a celebration of kingdom unity in these... troubled times."
"He won't choose anyone," I said, certainty giving strength to my voice despite the drugs. "Skoll has already chosen Kaela."
'Damn right,' my wolf growled, her presence burning brighter with our shared anger.
"That's the beauty of it, my dear," Blackthorn said, leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping as if sharing a confidence. "He doesn't have to choose anyone for the plan to succeed. In fact, we're counting on him not choosing. On his rejection of every candidate."
The pieces clicked together in my foggy mind, the horrific brilliance of their plan becoming clear. "You want him to reject them all. To lose hope."
"Precisely." Blackthorn looked genuinely pleased with my understanding. "Each rejection brings him closer to the edge. And we've been very particular about the invitations, you see. Only candidates with certain... attributes... have been included."
A cold dread settled in my stomach. "What attributes?"
"Physical similarities to you, primarily," he said, his clinical detachment making the revelation even more disturbing. "Dark hair, slim build. We've even gone so far as to provide specific instructions on perfume—something very close to the lavender and vanilla scent you favour."
The cell seemed to tilt around me, my vision narrowing as the implications sank in. They weren't just separating us—they were using my absence, my memory, as a weapon against Aleksandr. Torturing him with echoes of me while keeping me drugged and hidden away.
"You're sick," I whispered, hatred giving me clarity despite the wolfsbane flowing into my veins. "All of you."
"Politics often appears that way to those who don't understand the necessities of power," Blackthorn replied, unruffled by my condemnation. "Kane will be a strong king. A necessary king, for the challenges that lie ahead."
"Kane," I repeated, the name bitter on my tongue.
"Kane has the vision," Blackthorn said, his voice taking on a reverent quality that turned my stomach. "He sees what must be done for the kingdom to survive. Aleksandr has grown soft, too concerned with individual stories rather than the strength of the whole. In times like these, such weakness is a luxury we cannot afford."
"And you?" I challenged, fighting to keep my thoughts clear. "What do you get out of this betrayal? Kane's gratitude? A higher position in court?"
Something flashed in his eyes—not guilt, precisely, but a shadow of what might once have been principle. "Survival, Miss Lovelace. I've served three Alpha Kings before Aleksandr. I know how to recognise which way the wind blows."
'Coward,' Kaela snarled, her fury a wildfire in my chest. 'Spineless traitor.'
"But enough about politics," Blackthorn said, rising from his chair with that same fluid grace that belied his apparent age. "I should let you rest. The next dose of wolfsbane will be administered soon, and I find these transitions... unpleasant to witness."
As if on cue, a younger werewolf in medical scrubs entered the cell, carrying a fresh bag of the sickly green solution. He avoided my eyes as he moved to replace the nearly empty bag hanging beside my bed, his discomfort evident in every line of his body.
"This one's stronger," he murmured to Blackthorn, just loud enough for me to hear. "She's building resistance faster than we expected."
Blackthorn frowned. "Will it last until after the ball?"
The medic hesitated. "It should. But she'll need to be monitored more closely. The concentration is high enough that there's risk of permanent damage if we're not careful."
"We just need her alive but incapacitated for three more days," Blackthorn said, his mild tone contrasting sharply with his words. "After that, it doesn't matter if she takes longer to recover."
They discussed me as if I weren't there, as if I were a problem to be managed rather than a person being poisoned and imprisoned. The casual cruelty of it stoked the anger building inside me—not just my own, but Kaela's too, our rage merging into something hotter and more potent than I'd ever felt.
"I'll kill you for this," I said, the words emerging with unexpected clarity as the medic connected the new bag to my IV line. "Both of you. All of you involved."
Blackthorn actually smiled, the expression almost fond. "I admire your spirit, Miss Lovelace. I really do. But save your strength. In three days, this will all be behind us. The ball will have concluded, Aleksandr will be showing clear signs of the final descent into madness, and the council will have no choice but to invoke emergency powers."
The fresh wolfsbane hit my system like liquid fire, burning through my veins. I gasped, my back arching against the pain as Kaela howled in our shared mind.
'FIGHT IT!' she demanded, her voice already growing fainter as the poison targeted her directly. 'DON'T LET THEM WIN!'
I tried. I yanked against my restraints with newfound strength, the fabric cutting into my wrist but holding firm. The IV needle tore at my skin, blood welling around the insertion point, but it didn't dislodge. The medic stepped back, alarmed at my sudden burst of energy.
"Increase the flow rate," Blackthorn ordered sharply, all pretense of grandfatherly concern evaporating. "She's fighting it."
The medic complied, adjusting something on the IV line that sent more of the poison flooding into me. The effect was almost immediate—my muscles went slack, my vision blurring at the edges as the drug overwhelmed my system.
"That's better," Blackthorn said, his voice already growing distant as darkness crept in from the corners of my awareness. "Rest now, Miss Lovelace. When you wake, it will all be over."
I fought to stay conscious, to hold onto the rage that had given me temporary strength. But the wolfsbane was too potent, the dose too high. Kaela's presence faded to a dim ember in my mind, her howls of fury becoming whimpers, then silence.
As darkness claimed me once more, one thought burned like a single candle in a vast, empty night: Aleksandr would know. Whatever lies they told, whatever false evidence they manufactured, he would feel the truth. Our connection, fragile as it was, couldn't be severed so easily.
Three days before Kane's plan reached its endgame.
Three days before Aleksandr was lost forever.