Chapter 29 29

Chapter 29 29

Eudora's POV

I was holding Esmeralda's hand when she died, seeing her life fade from her eyes. All the while, watching the light dim, the warmth dissipate from her skin. A pool of her own blood gathered beneath her, the dark liquid seeping into the stonework and staining it forever.

This was the woman who’d attempted to ruin me. Had me set up for the murder. Allied with the enemies and brought infected wolves into the palace. If he threatened to kill everyone if they didn’t respond it would only be to hurt me.

But she had saved my life without a second thought.

The tragedy, the complexity of it cracked something inside my chest open. Brought on tears I couldn’t hold back.

“Ticken, don’t abandon your brother,” I hissed to Esmeralda, and squeezed her hand. "Stay. Let us heal you. Please."

There was little strength in Esmeralda's smile, but it was honest. Genuine in a way I’d never quite seen from her before. "Too late for that. The wounds are too deep. But maybe.. ” She coughed, and blood frothed up from her lips. “Maybe not late for forgiveness.”

Her eyes sought Yamal's face and new tears rolled down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, brother. For everything I did. For betraying your trust. For the hurting people you love. That I was so eaten up with jealousy and bitterness, that I forgot who I was.”

Yamal was now openly weeping, something I had never seen. The stoic Beta, so utterly self contained, was having a good cry without apology. “You’re forgiven,” he said gruffly, his voice catching. "Always forgiven. You're my sister. Nothing changes that."

Healers had come, breaking through the crowd. But a single glance at Esmeralda's wounds revealed the story. The warrior’s infected claws had gorged him with his critical organs.
Had split her from bosom to guts. Not even the strongest heal spell could mend damage this severe. Wouldn’t be able to revive someone who’d lost this much blood.
She was on her deathbed, and we all knew it.

Oberon was standing behind me, his hand upon my shoulder. Offering silent support and strength. He held me together, didn’t let me fall apart.

"Homeboy, look after him,"Esmeralda's voice began to fade. "Oberon. He needs someone who is not only able to “look beyond” his anger. Somebody who knows that pain makes us do horrible things.” She coughed again, a wet, rattling sound. “But the idea that we can be better. To do better."

“I will,” I vowed, and meant it with all my soul. "I will take care of him."

Esmeralda's breathing became more labored. Each breath a struggle. I could feel hear losing her grip on my hand minute by minute.

“I have to tell you something,” she gasped. "About your father's plans. About the Ruminants. Important information."

Oberon dropped to his knee next to us, looking intense. "What do you know?"

Esmeralda coughed, blood spattering her lips. "The infected warriors. They weren't random. Your father entered into an agreement with the Ruminants years ago. Gave them access to pack members for experimentation. In exchange for power. To gain knowledge how to craft hybrid beings.

I felt sick. One more layer of my father’s depravity unveiled. Another horror to pile on top of the mountain of crimes he had committed.

“He tested on his own people?” Though I already knew the answer,” I asked. Already knew the depths of his cruelty.

“Not only his people,” Esmeralda added faintly. "Prisoners from other packs. Rogues. Anyone disposable. “Rob anyone nobody would miss.” He documented his meticulous victims in a hidden vault.”

"The vault at the palace," declared Oberon. "We already found that."

“No.” Esmeralda turned her head a little. "Not that one. A different one. In the ruins of the old temple outside the capital. Three miles northeast. That’s where he saved his most important research. His final plans."

Oberon and I exchanged glances. This was crucial information. Maybe the secret to it all. To a way to curse them back.

“Why are you telling us this now?” Oberon asked gently.

Esmeralda's expression was rueful. Self-conscious in a way she had never experienced. “‘Cause I found the vault when I was looking for leverage on you. Thought that maybe I could work the info somehow. To force you to choose me."
She coughed again, this time feebly. But then I discovered something there that changed everything. Reshaped my sense of the magnitude of what was going on. That this was larger than my hurt feelings, or pride that had been wounded.”

She regarded me with almost pity. "Your father's last experiments were entirely about you, princess. Everything he did for the past decade was so that he could make you the perfect vessel. The perfect bridge between worlds."

I had understood this, but the acknowledgment somehow made it more true. More terrible.

“It showin how he had Ruminant essence fed to you,” Esmeralda went on. "The exact process. The rituals he performed. The sacrifices he made." She paused, gathering strength. “But they also describe how to reverse it.”

Suddenly, violently, hope ignited in my chest. “There’s a way to lift the curse?”

Esmeralda nodded weakly. "The ritual is complex. Requires rare ingredients. Some dangerous. Some illegal. But yes, it's possible. Your father developed an antidote, a reversal, in case he ever wanted to use you differently. In case his plans changed."

Her breathing was shallow now. Every word an effort, it was punishing for her. "The vault. There's a map in my chambers. Tucked in the lining of my jewelry box. The blue velvet one. Find it. Save yourself."

Yamal pressed close to his sister, tears falling onto her face. "Don't talk anymore. Save your strength. We can discuss this later."

But we all knew that it was useless. Esmeralda was dying, and there was nothing that could be done about it. Her body was retreating, system by system.

“I’m so relieved I picked at the very last moment,” she said, her voice barely audible. “Glad I remembered who the hell I was supposed to be. Who I used to be, before bitterness had its way with me.”

Her eyes closed. Her breathing slowed. Each breath coming further apart.

I held her hand to the final breath. Until her chest just stopped rising and falling. Until the heat drained from hers, and they lay limp in mine.

After it was done, the room went silent. Bearing heavy burderns of sorrow and the possibility of redemption. Of a life that had ended with one good decision amid so many bad ones.

Yamal scooped up his sister’s body delicately, as though she were precious. As if she were the little girl who’d been under his protection when they were both children. “I’ll get her ready to be buried,” he said, his voice empty. Empty. "She deserves honor, despite everything. She died a hero, and she will always be our hero."

Oberon gave his Beta a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "Take all the time you need. We'll handle everything else."

Yamal nodded, he had no more words. He lifted Esmeralda, her blood splattering a trail on the floor. Guards followed behind him, offering a silent support.

While Yamal carried her away, Marjah showed herself in the doorway. She had been there watching, I thought. Her expression was conflicted. Grief mixed with something softer.

As Yamal passed her, they caught each other’s eyes and held them. Something unspoken passed between them. Comprehension and communal grief, and something that could be the start of respect.

"I'm sorry," Marjah said quietly. "For your loss. She died bravely."

Yamal nodded, unable to speak. Swallowing hard, his throat bobbed in a working motion. Then he walked beyond her, toward the preparation chambers.

Marjah embraced me then, hugging me hard. Her arms were strong, comforting. "Are you alright?" she asked against my hair.

I shook my head into her shoulder. "She died saving me. A person who despised me, a man who wanted me erased, had died so I could live. How do I process that?"

Oberon's arms enfolded both of us, his soothing weight a balm. Solid. “She chose redemption,” he said quietly. "That's worth something. That's worth everything, actually. There’s always enough time for one good decision at the end to make up for a lifetime of bad ones.”

One of the healers stepped forward nervously as we clung together in the aftermath of violence and death. She was young, perhaps thirty, and her eyes were kind. "Your Grace, Princess: we dissected the corpse of the infected warrior. The one who attacked. We found something disturbing."

Oberon looked at her, and his arm was still about me. "What?"

The healer hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. "A brand. Was burned into his chest beneath the shirt. It is a character we do not see in our records. But. ….” She took a parchment with what looked like a hurried sketch she had done. “It is consistent with descriptions in ancient texts about the ruling class of the Ruminants. About their hierarchy."

She glanced from me to him, fear in her eyes. “This was no ordinary plague-infected soldier. He was branded to the Ruminant King's own retainer. A personal agent. Which means..."

"Which means they don't just want Eudora," Oberon concluded darkly. "They're actively moving against us. Sending their best operatives."

Dread chilled the pit of my stomach. The Ruminant King. The most powerful being in their universe. And he was focused on me.