Page 66 of Alpha's Exiled Mate
Blood sprayed everywhere, a hot, metallic torrent, but the creature seemed impervious to pain. If anything, the injury only fueled its frenzy, making it more erratic and dangerous. With a sudden burst of energy, it reared up and flung me off, sending me skidding across the ground.
Lilia moved faster than lightning, intercepting the rogue wolf’s path and colliding with it head-on. Their forms tangled mid-air in a violent struggle, and my heart clenched as I watched Lilia’s wolf form get slammed to the ground with a bone-rattling thud.
“Lilia!” I roared, rage and fear surging through me as my muscles tensed. With a strength I didn’t know I had, I launched myself at the rogue wolf, my claws piercing through its chest and tearing straight into its heart.
The beast let out a final, anguished wail before collapsing. Its body dissolved into a pool of black liquid, seeping into the ground and vanishing—a telltale sign of a creature bound by dark magic meeting its end.
I turned immediately to Lilia, who had reverted to her human form. She lay on the ground, pale and drenched in cold sweat, her breathing shallow.
“Lilia!” I shifted back to human form as well, rushing to her side and kneeling beside her, gently supporting her trembling frame.
“Anna… is Anna okay?” she asked weakly, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes unfocused and glassy.
“She’s safe. You blocked the rogue wolf’s path. You made it. The soldiers have taken her to the safe house,” I reassured her urgently, my heart twisting at the sight of her pale, pained expression.
“Thanks goddess… that’s good…” Lilia managed a faint smile, but suddenly, her expression froze.
“Watch out, Your Majesty!” Sam’s desperate shout pierced the air.
I turned just in time to see a dark mist erupting from the remains of the rogue wolf’s body. It moved with a life of its own, a sinister force surging straight toward me.
In the next second, I was shoved aside with a strong force. Lilia collapsed to the ground in my place.
“Lilia!” I cried out, my voice raw with panic.
It was too late. Time seemed to stretch into an eternity in that horrifying moment. My eyes widened in disbelief as theblack mist surged into Lilia’s body, vanishing as if it had been absorbed.
Everything around me seemed to stop, the weight of what had just happened crashing down on me like a tidal wave.
“Lilia, no!”
Chapter 21
Perock
“Healers! Call the healers now!” I roared, my voice hoarse with desperation as I scooped Lilia into my arms, her limp forms a crushing weight against my chest. I sprinted toward the medical chamber.
Her skin was icy to the touch, her face drained of all color, and black tendrils—vile, writhing marks of the dark magic’s poison—crawled from the wound on her side, spreading across her body like a malignant web, attacking not just her flesh but her very soul.
“Don’t let Anna know about her mother’s condition,” I barked at Sam, the captain of the guard, who rushed to my side, his dented armor clanking, blood still seeping from a gash on his forehead. “Tell her Princess Lilia is exhausted and needs rest. And lock down all information—no word of this leaves the palace, not a whisper.”
The timing of this attack, perfectly aligned with our delicate negotiations with Fellinger, reeked of calculated sabotage. The mastermind’s identity was no mystery—Jackson’s shadowloomed large over this treachery, his vendetta against me now threatening the lives of those I held dearest.
Sam nodded sharply, his blood-streaked face grim with unwavering resolve, and turned to relay my orders, his voice cutting through the chaos of the hall like a blade. “You heard His Majesty! Secure the palace and control all communications—move!”
Lilia sagged in my arms, her breathing shallow and uneven, the black tendrils now creeping toward her chest, their sinister pulse threatening to invade her heart. My own heart hammered against my ribs, a torrent of fear surging through me, drowning every other thought in its icy grip. I couldn’t lose her—not again. The five years of separation had already carved a hollow, aching void in my soul, a constant reminder of my failures as a man and a king. If she died saving me from that cursed mist, the guilt would be a wound I’d carry to my grave, a burden I could never escape.
The medical chamber was a hive of frantic activity as I burst through the heavy oak doors. Healers and mages crowded around a stone table at the center, their faces taut with urgency as they prepared spells, potions, and surgical tools. I laid Lilia gently on the table, her golden hair fanning out against the cold stone, stark and luminous against her deathly pallor. The black tendrils had reached her collarbone, inching ever closer to her heart, their malevolent glow pulsing like a mockery of life itself. The air was thick with the sharp scent of medicinal herbs, the tang of ozone from active spells, and the low hum of magic crackling as the healers worked with feverish precision.
“Your Majesty, this is an extremely rare soul toxin,” the chief healer, Elira, a stern woman with steel-gray eyes and decades of experience, said as she leaned over Lilia, her hands glowing faintly with diagnostic magic. Her voice was heavy with concern, her brow furrowed as she traced the tendrils’ path. “Standardantidotes are useless against it. This poison targets the soul itself, eroding it from within until the victim is consumed by darkness and dies. If we don’t act swiftly, she won’t survive the night.”
“There has to be a way,” I said, my voice trembling despite my desperate effort to keep it steady, my resolve unyielding as iron. “Whatever it takes, whatever the cost, you will save her. Find a solution—now.”
Even if it meant my life in exchange for hers.
An elderly female witch, her face etched with the lines of countless arcane rituals, stepped forward from the circle of healers, her voice hesitant but clear, carrying the weight of forbidden knowledge. “There is one method, Your Majesty, but it’s extraordinarily perilous,” she said, her rheumy eyes meeting mine with cautious intensity. “We could attempt to transfer the toxin, drawing it from her body into another host. A strong individual might withstand the poison long enough to fight it off and survive, though the odds are slim.”
Elira’s eyes widened, her head shaking in protest, her voice sharp with alarm. “Your Majesty, even the strongest warrior would struggle to survive such a transfer. The toxin is relentless, and the host would face almost certain death. The risk is too great—”