Page 52 of Prey of the Lycan Queen
“She was trying to protect you,” I tell her. She nods, but tears slip down her cheeks. “I know, but now they’re powerless,” she tells us.
I look at James to see if he understands, but his brow is furrowed. “What do you mean?” I ask her.
“The lycans weren’t the only ones cursed, My King. We helped Litha finish the curse. We damned you, and a curse like that comes with consequences. You can’t play god without a sacrifice.”
My brows pinch in confusion. “They sacrificed their lives for Litha, wasn’t that enough?”
She shakes her head. “No, there are rules. Litha tempted fate. She altered the course of existence, and her punishment was that she cursed her daughter, cursed her coven with their deaths, and cursed our magic. My mother and those who stood with her also had to be punished. That sort of magic isn’t just a curse, it’s karma, the rule of three. Litha created an imbalance. The Fates corrected it and punished her three-fold.”
The girl glances around as if the vampires still cling to the shadows. “What are you looking for?” I ask, scanning the square.
“My coven has limited magic outside the death place of Litha. That’s why we never left. We can only channel off Litha’s energy from this square, but outside the square, our magic is uncontrollable because we have nothing to keep us grounded.”
“I don’t understand.” They seemed pretty powerful the night Zirah died.
“The coven’s magic is anchored here—just like Litha—until the curse is broken. Unless we have an anchor, and I doubt those bloodsuckers will be willing to make that kind of sacrifice,” she tells me.
I glance at James. It seems this curse has no bounds, not just cursing us, but the entire lycan population, the oracle, and even her coven.
“Get in,” I tell her.
“I can’t, my brother,” she says, turning to look over her shoulder.
“Bring him, you can leave him with the castle staff, surely someone is alive.”
She chews her lip. “Where is my priestess? She has magic, so she can save them. She can bring the Vampiric King down,” she asks pleadingly.
“I’ll be going there once I check on my father,” I tell her, and James nods. She waves her brother to come forward, and he rushes out from behind a bush to her side before they jump into the backseat.
With my heart pounding, we pull up at the castle to find guards strewn about. It’s hard to tell if they are alive or dead, but the maids are dragging them inside. I climb out of the car as soon as we come to a stop, and without waiting for the others, I stride toward the castle to find my father.
As I ascend the stairs, I’m struck by the unsettling emptiness of the guard posts. The vampire guards who once stood tall like pillars are conspicuously absent.
The girl and her little brother are on my heels, and when I stop, she peers around as well. I look back at her. “Of those who stormed the city, were any of them in our guard uniform?”
She nods. “They pointed out the coven members, but they were confused by me because I was younger. Grandma said she was an elder and the last element.” I nod my head as a sense of betrayal engulfs me. My father’s misplaced trust gnaws at my insides.
Once I pass through the corridors of the castle, the situation becomes even more chilling. Bodies of our guards lie motionless in heaps. They still breathe, their chests heaving in a slow rhythm that signals incapacitation rather than rest.
Time has never felt so precious or so cruelly limited. I forge ahead, shoving past the bodies, my mind honing onto a single focal point—my father.
I surge into his room, my heart leaping into my throat at the sight of him sprawled on the floor. His hand still clings to the phone as though it is his lifeline.
Without missing a beat, James is at his side, forcing blood into his mouth. The vampire blood courses through my father’s veins and should be healing him, but it doesn’t work. He only mutters incoherently.
James pries his eyelids open to find them dilated and glowing ominously. My hands shake slightly as I remove the darts from his chest. The pungent, sharp scent assaults my nostrils as I examine the dart.
“Mandrake root.” I twist the dart between two fingers with disdain.
James tries to rouse my father, his usual calm demeanor now reflecting my concern. The room fills with the guttural groans of my father, his words melting into a pool of nonsense.
“He’s hallucinating. It’s a side effect of the mandrake root,” James explains, adding to the knot of anxiety in my stomach. Glancing around, I shake my head, knowing that is not a good sign, and it will take hours before he will be back to normal. Hearing a gasp, I look up to see the young girl has followed us, her brother hanging onto the back of her shirt as he peers around her.
“Get the maids. Tell them King Regan said to lock all the incapacitated guards up. They’ve been poisoned with mandrake root,” I tell her, and her eyes widen in horror. She nods quickly and rushes off. “Explains why they didn’t kill everyone. They knew once the hallucinations kicked in that your guards would do the job for them,” James says.
I extract my phone with a sense of dread clawing at my insides. I dial Lyon’s number, holding my breath as it rings in my ear, only to be met with his voicemail. I try again, my heart hammering wildly.
“What’s going on?” James’s inquiry rips through the tense silence. “Lyon’s not answering,” my voice comes out tighter than I intend it to.
