Page 20 of Beast and Remedy (The Last of the Heirs #2)

So. Much. Blood.

I run my hands over the velvet fabric of my cloak, trying not to let my stomach heave out the contents I ate prior to leaving Palaena.

Marian peers out the window, and I follow her line of sight as clouds stretch over Biala Forest. The light scent of wood and moss creep in through the door, a slight taunt to the beast within, fighting and seeking an escape.

At least another day, please.

My seat creaks as I squirm uncomfortably, unable to focus on reading any of the tomes I was gifted. Irritation brims alongside my powers, my time wasted on quelling the nausea.

I could be discovering something new, jotting down ideas for treatments. But my head pulses with dizziness, my mood souring every instance the carriage jostles me.

Marian pinches her brows with concern. “Are you alright?”

I hate how observant and aware she is.

I nod quickly, clenching my core muscles as my powers swell.

“Then, why do you look like you are about to be sick?”

“My magic,” I huff. “The forest is taunting me.”

“Sweet Makers, Vi,” Marian sighs. “You should have said something before we left. We could have taken a different path.”

“What other path could we have taken? The way home literally requires us to go through the forest.”

“We could have gone the long way.”

I ease up, suppressing bile with a grimace. “It doesn’t matter now. We are already in the woods.” I gather my cloak close, caging in the power making me ill from repressing it. “If I need to stop, I will let you know.”

Marian crosses her arms. “Fine, but don’t expect me to follow you.”

“Too cold outside for you?” I tease.

She rolls her eyes. “It’s barely spring. Not to mention it would be very inconvenient if I had to ask the guards to take down one of the trunks so I can grab my bow to watch over you.”

“Oh, please.” I wave her off. “You’ve asked for things during other travels plenty of times. I am sure it will—”

The carriage screeches to a halt, sending me falling forward to the floorboards, and Marian almost tumbles on top of me.

My hair plasters over my face, keeping me from seeing if I landed on the crate. I blow it away, relieved I did not damage the box.

Marian moves, but Bronn’s sharp voice hisses with warning. “Stay quiet, Princesses.”

Fear crawls up my spine at his tone. I tilt my head to Marian’s puzzled look. I mouth, Do you see anything?

She lifts her hand as boots scuffle on the gravel, metal ringing as swords unsheathe and something growls. Marian’s widened eyes meet mine, and my blood runs cold.

Dread replaces the bile in my throat for Bronn, Alec, Marius, and Riker.

A loud snarl draws a scream from one of the men as feet scramble and horses neigh. The carriage rocks, and Marian moves above me, opening the door.

I reach to stop her. “M-Marian, what are you—”

“Help me get my bow from the trunk!” She shakes me off and sprints into action, jumping down and hurrying behind the stagecoach.

Growling and grunts come from my left, and I close my eyes, fighting to ground myself through my rising panic. My hands tremble as I take a deep breath before scurrying after my sister to help her remove the rope holding our luggage.

“I’m so stupid. I should have kept it with me!” She rises to her tiptoes, reaching for the top trunk, and pauses when someone groans.

My heart twists, and Marian urges, “Hurry!”

Boxes come crashing down, hitting me and landing on my feet.

I hiss as Marian dodges them, finding her crate and shoving it open. She flings clothes out and tosses me a dagger before grabbing her bow.

Her wild eyes lock on mine, her fear matching my own. And even though I catch the tremor in her hands, she nods before removing her cloak and putting her quiver on.

I fasten my grip on the hilt of my blade, praying to the Makers for strength as I lean into the stagecoach to prepare to help the others.

But the copper tang of blood crashes against me, and I brave a glance past the carriage to a huge wolf with fur dark as night, feasting on the remnants of our driver and guard, Riker.

The man’s lifeless eyes linger, and I shudder, retreating and trying to banish the image from my mind.

“There are four of them,” I whisper to Marian, and another yelp comes from one of the men.

My heart wrenches and lips tremble with worry of who it could be. I don’t want to imagine any of them getting hurt. And when the snarling and tearing of flesh sounds, I gag.

I try to focus on my breathing, my head pounding as my magic blooms underneath my skin. It calls to me, begging for an escape.

But I can’t shift right now. I would be too exposed.

I reach for my sister, uncertain if I can really do anything. “Marian—”

“We have to help them, Vi,” she urges before whipping out of my hold.

I swallow thickly, knowing I am useless in this situation.

All we have is a dagger and her bow. And if I can’t shift, we could end up dead, too.

I want to convince her we should run. We were close to our kingdom border. But what if the wolves came from our territory? What if they are infected? What if there are more? Who is to say this isn’t the first of many we could run into?

Panic grips me in place, my knees wobbling as my sister darts toward a large tree and hides behind it to find a target.

She nocks her bow and releases an arrow.

An animal yelps, and I brave another glance past the carriage, counting two animals no longer moving. And two men no longer moving.

Alec.

Marius.

I muffle my bloodcurdling scream as the black wolf that was feasting on Riker rips apart our guards.

I tear my gaze from the horror, magic thrashing in my veins from the impending doom engulfing me.

But the last creature, a smaller beast with faded gray fur, bites Bronn’s shoulder.

He bellows in agony, struggling against the wolf’s grip on him, removing a hidden dagger and puncturing the animal’s flesh.

He keeps stabbing, over and over, as the predator whips its head, refusing to let go.

An arrow whooshes through the air, striking true in the creature’s eye.

The gray beast slumps, releasing Bronn.

The black wolf whirls, growling at its dead pack, saliva mixing with blood running down its snout.

Another arrow launches, but Marian’s shot misses its mark.

The wolf snarls, thrashing as another bolt lands in Riker’s body, followed by two more striking the remnants of Alec and Marius. The predator scampers off, leaving disaster in its wake.

I pause at the devastation, a numbness creeping forth and weighing me down. Death surrounds me, making it difficult to breathe as I sheathe my dagger.

Marian rushes and lowers to Bronn’s side, cradling his head as I approach.

He chokes on his own blood, the tearing in his arm and the claw marks in his armor evidence of fatal injuries. Bronn whispers a prayer to the Deities, wishing to enter Salvation rather than Oblivion, and my lip quivers.

Marian grips his hand. “It’s alright, you’re alright.”

“Princess.”

Red liquid runs down the side of his mouth.

Marian’s tear-filled eyes find mine, and I shake my head.

All we can do is comfort him. Even if I could save him, it would do nothing if these wolves were infected. It could already be claiming him from the inside out.

Bronn’s umber-brown curls frame his ebony complexion, his features full of pain and agony.

“Shhhh. It—it’s alright,” Marian soothes.

His gaze drifts to the ripped-to-shreds Riker. And his friends.

Each of their names engrave themselves in my mind.

My legs wobble as I sink to the ground and take Bronn’s other hand, my throat clogging as he chokes again.

“Princess Vivienne.”

“ Bronn .” My voice shakes with despair as tears escape. “I-I—” I’m unable to speak my regret and sorrow.

Marian caresses his forehead as her lip trembles through her words. “You saved our lives. We are so proud of you and are so grateful.”

“T-T-Take c-c-care of each other,” Bronn says.

The strained lines of his face relax, his eyes go distant, and the light grip he had on me loosens.

I stifle my sobs as Marian closes his eyes, kissing his brow. My body shakes violently as I drop my head, mourning the loss of our men.

Their blood is thick in the air, and my hands are drenched in it, my failures rising to the surface and wanting to fuel this grief into rage.

Marian’s soft touch tugs at me. “Vi?”

I sniff, rubbing my nose before lifting my head.

But the large black wolf hovers behind Marian, and I scream.

My sister moves for Bronn’s weapon, and I grab my dagger as the predator bares its teeth in a snarl, biting Marian’s forearm.

Marian bellows as I hurl my blade into the creature’s shoulder.

The beast clamps harder on her. Her yelps and attempts to fight the animal are futile.

I seize Bronn’s bloodied sword. A possessive, animalistic growl leaves my throat, terror moving me forward into an attack.

Reaching inward for my power, I try to evoke the animal to stand down. I surge forth a wave of protectiveness, of territory, but the wolf does not relent.

It doesn’t obey my magic’s command.

I ram the sword into the beast in its side, and it whimpers, releasing its hold of my sister.

She clutches her arm, falling backward.

But I don’t stop attacking.

I launch forward, covering and protecting Marian as I pull the blade out, only to shove it back in. Fierceness, possessiveness, and fear tighten my grip on the hilt.

Deeper and deeper.

Over and over .

The need to protect what is mine moves my body of its own volition. Pain, rage, and grief rock through me as I roar, stabbing the animal again and again.

The invasion of my territory, the defiance, and the sheer terror of my sister being attacked—my guards attacked—drive the blade in and out.

In and out.

In and out.

I scream .

And when the wolf collapses, Bronn’s sword still finds its mark.

The wreckage. The death. The blood .

So. Much. Blood.

I keep going until my vision is too blurry from the tears, my voice too hoarse from the roars erupting from my throat, and the overwhelming distress attacking my body.