Page 46 of Eternal Mate

The guards exchanged a quick glance before one of them stepped forward, blocking my path.

"State your business," he demanded, his tone laced with suspicion.

"My business is of utmost importance," I replied, my voice carrying a hint of urgency. "I bear crucial information for Tarragon. Lives are at stake."

The guard narrowed his eyes, seemingly considering my words. After a moment of tense silence, he finally nodded and gestured for me to proceed.

I approached the throne room, my heart set on one purpose: to kill Tarragon. Hatred and vengeance fueled my every step, squashing down the fear.

However, as the guards pushed open the grand doors to let me inside, I was met with a scene that caught me off guard.

There, lying on the cold stone floor, was Tarragon's lifeless body. He’s been stabbed through the heart, and his head had been cleanly removed from his shoulders and thrown against the wall. His white hair, stained with blood, was fanned out to hide his face.

My eyes widened in shock, my mind struggling to comprehend what I was seeing.

Lucia stood near the corpse. There's a bloody sword in her bloodstained hands, her expression a mix of grief and exhaustion. Blossom knelt over the corpse, weeping miserably, her rotting visage seeming to further wither and decay with each passing second.

"You killed him!" Blossom's voice cracked with heartbreak as she lashed out at Lucia. "He was my mate!"

“And Mikey was mine!” Lucia bit back, looking just as feral. Her grip on her sword tightened as she seethed, and I know that she was seconds from taking a swing at her sister.

I moved swiftly, stepping between them, my gaze shifting from Blossom to Lucia—who I noted looked very much not pregnant.

Dread bubbled in my veins. I forced myself to breathe through it as Blossom's fathomless eyes focused on her sister, never even taking a glance at me.

Blossom's shoulders slumped, and bloody tears welled up in her eyes. The weight of the truth settled upon her, and the justified loss of her mate was a wound that cut deep.

I wasn’t yet completely heartless, as it turned out, because my stomach flipped for her. I couldn’t imagine living without Aria, and we hadn’t been together for over a millennia like they had.

“Bim!” Lucia called out. Her voice was steady, spine straightening as she dropped the bloody sword. “Help Blossom to her quarters and get this mess cleaned up.”

The huge doors opened immediately and the two guards outside came in, looking unsurprised by the scene. The peppy guard who had shared a patrol with me looked years older, all of his overeager energy having been sucked out of him—I wasn’t shocked that I hadn’t recognized him when he let me inside.

Now, he gave me a small, tight smile in greeting.

“Please, Sariel, come with me,” Lucia murmured, hobbling enough that I had to offer her my arm for balance. She took it gratefully, linking her arms with mine and leaning heavily on me with a soft murmur of thanks.

I let her lead me down the hallway, glancing around for any sign of the guards we’d run into when we infiltrated.

The others were probably worried sick, but I’d find a way to reach out to them as soon as I figured out what the fuck was happening.

Once we reached Lucia's quarters, I gently guided her towards a plush chair, then ensured she was comfortable in it before I took a seat nearby. She sighed, her exhaustion evident as she closed her eyes for a moment.

"Sariel, I know you must have a thousand questions," she said, her voice tinged with weariness, "but just… just give me a minute."

Her voice cracked. Slowly, she rubbed at her eyes, taking a steadying breath.

A small cry broke out from the crib in the corner of the room, and when Lucia looked up, her eyes welled with tears.

Tears streamed down her face as she whispered brokenly, "I'm so sorry, Sariel. I'm so sorry about Mikey. I... I loved him."

I nodded, my own sorrow mingling with hers. "I know, Lucia. I know."

And I did. Lucia was a hard woman to crack, but the loss of Mikey seemed to have unraveled her completely. Gone was the woman who had trained Aria and ushered us out when her family had tried to force us to complete our bond, and in her place was a broken mother, still mourning the loss of her mate.

The burden of our grief seemed to momentarily bind us together before another cry broke out, this time more insistent.

Lucia moved to stand with a wince, but I shook my head, gesturing for her to sit.

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