Page 123 of The Stolen Kingdom

Maris’s heart hammered in her chest as her eyes darted to the arrows scattered across the ground. These weren’t Vulcanian weapons. The crude rock tips and rustic feathers were gone. Instead, these arrows were sleek and polished.

They’re not Vulcanians.

“Hurry! Hurry!” Maris begged, her desperation spilling as she stumbled after Valda. She pushed her mate toward the wagon with trembling hands, urging her to move faster. “Please, Valda! Please!”

Maris crawled into the wagon, her breath hitching when her eyes locked onto Eyphah. The woman sat frozen, her face pale with terror as she clutched Struan tightly in her arms while Ciel lay on her lap.

Maris turned her gaze to Melvian, and her heart dropped. Blood trickled from her best friend’s lips, staining her chin. The sight left Maris momentarily paralyzed, a lump risingin her throat. Shaking herself free of her stupor, she reached for the small dagger hidden in her boot, her fingers trembling as she unsheathed it and sliced through Melvian’s tunic.

“Melvian!”

Isen’s cries pierced through the chaos and Maris clenched her teeth, willing herself to ignore him in order to clear her mind and work on Melvian.

She knew what needed to be done. She knew pulling the arrows now would do more harm than good. But Isen’s voice, the screaming, the pounding of hooves, the clash of steel—it all made it impossible to think clearly.

Her best friend was dying and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She failed Melvian. She was never blessed by Asclepius, she didn’t follow his teaching as she should’ve had, as Melvian told her to do. This was all her fault.

“Asclepius, god of healing, hear my plea…” Maris began, her hands fluttering over the arrows as she pulled the one from her stomach, only to earn a heart-wrenching bellow from Melvian.

“I am sorry! I am sorry…” Her shuddering whimper dissolved into a cry as she whispered the words like a holy mantra, desperate for a miracle.

“Please, please, Asclepius, not her.”

Not her.

Not Melvian.

Maris felt the weak grip of Melvian’s bloodied hands on her own. Her tears blurred her vision, dripping onto her best friend’s chest as though her sorrow could somehow heal what her prayers couldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” Maris whispered, her voice cracking as her composure shattered. “I’m sorry, Melvian. I’m so sorry. I tried. I’m not blessed. I’m so—”

“Stop,” Melvian rasped, her voice so faint it barely reached Maris’s ears.

Maris stopped and bit her lower lip to control herself, but she could still hear Isen’s screaming and heartbreak. Gods, he was feeling their bond dissolving into nothing.

“Please,” Melvian choked, blood spilling from her lips as she forced the word out. Her chest rose and fell unevenly.

Maris’s tears flowed, landing like rain on Melvian’s skin. “Don’t talk.”

“Care for them.”

“No!” Maris shook her head vehemently, the denial tearing from her lips. “I won’t. They’re yours, not mine!” Her voice cracked, shaking as she fought against the weight ofthe words. To accept this—to promise—meant accepting that Melvian was slipping away, and she wasn’t ready. She would never be ready.

“Maris…” Eyphah’s voice came from behind, accompanied by the faint cries of the two infants.

“Please,” Melvian whispered, her trembling hands squeezing Maris’s with the last strength she had left.

Maris crumbled. Her chest tightened as she looked into her friend’s eyes, seeing the plea, the desperation, the fucking trust. She swallowed hard, forcing the knot in her throat down as she nodded through the tears streaming down her cheeks.

“I will. I swear,” Maris said. If she couldn’t heal her, she could at least give her this—reassurance, a promise to love and protect the children Melvian would leave behind.

Melvian’s lips curved into a faint smile. Her bloodied fingers patted Maris’s hands weakly, and then she exhaled.

27

Valda held onto Isen for dear life. He thrashed about, fighting to reach the wagon where his mate was. Words spilled from Valda’s mouth, hoping to ease him, wishing she had Kayden’s gift. She wished she could calm Isen, but she knew there was nothing she could do other than hold on to him as he fell to his knees, clutching to her blouse as he called out to Melvian again, his voice breaking into a desperate sob.

Pulling at him, she tried to get him away from the chaos. If they wanted to survive, they needed to fight or leave, and Isen was in no way ready to fight.

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