Ryatt
I don’t know the name of this village or the pack. I barely spoke more than three words to the Beta before being ushered out of the village and into a heavily wooded area high above the village proper. A small stone cabin sits in the center of a clearing, flanked by a few out buildings. Smoke puffs from the chimney as I approach the cottage with my hands curled into fists at my sides.
I try to tell myself that everything is going to be fine, but Granger and I are alone in this. My men–my commanders, generals, and warriors–are currently spread out between here and Veiled Valley. Everyone is on standby, waiting for whatever conflict might have come when we faced off with Jaxon.
I’m too far out of mind-link range to connect with any of my commanders to tell them the situation has changed.
I push open the door and step inside the dusty cottage. It’s a single room–wide and nearly empty save for a bed in its center and a few cabinets and chairs. An elderly woman is yelling at a village girl who can’t be more than fourteen.
Ella is in the bed, her eyes glassy and distant as she looks into the fire crackling in the soot-stained hearth along the far wall. She looks pale, gray, and defeated.
“Alpha,” Granger says hoarsely, tapping two fingers against my elbow to get my attention.
“Is she all right?” I ask him over the sharp tongued healer’s shrieking.
“Outside, I think,” Granger says with a sigh, and I follow him back out into the moon drenched clearing.
It’s several hours before dawn. Distant howling breaks through the rustling of branches above our heads as we take a few long strides away from the cottage.
“Ella is still feverish. The healer won’t give her anything for it.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not entirely sure. She started yelling at me the second I laid Ella on the bed, calling her Beta a filthy witch sympathizer and saying Ella was just ‘child sick.’”
“Child sick?”
Granger shrugs, his expression helpless. “This woman is just a healer, not a witch. She believes keeping the cottage hotter than Ella’s fever is the only way to banish the demons.” He waves a hand in dismissal. “We need to find someone else.”
“What I need–I need Westfall here as soon as possible. If he intercepts anyone along the way who has healing abilities, they need to be brought here without question. I don’t care what it takes. Talk to the Beta of this gods forsaken pack and find me a new healer in the meantime.”
Granger shifts his weight from foot to foot and crosses his arms over his chest. “We don’t have that kind of time, Ryatt.”
He’s right, but I don’t want to hear it.
“Go,” I command. End of discussion.
I turn back to the cottage.
The air is dry and full of smoke as I walk to the edge of the bed and kneel, taking Ella’s clammy hand in mine.
“I need boiling water, you foolish, insolent girl. This water is barely steaming.” A wet, cracking sound fills the air, and the girl yelps in pain. I snap my gaze toward the healer who is looking smug as she clenches her meaty hand into a fist.
She just slapped the girl in the face. Tears spring along the girl's lashes as she nods and starts lugging a bucket of water toward the hearth.
The healer finally turns to me, her round, pinched face twisted in disgust. What the hell is her problem?
“What exactly do you want me to do for her?” she hisses through her teeth, wiggling a finger at Ella, who is curling into herself in pain.
“Is there not a midwife in this pack who can come here instead?” I ask hotly, not bothering to stifle the edge in my tone.
“Midwife? Bah, no. We don’t believe in that kind of medicine. It’s dark magic.”
“You believe someone who cares for pregnant women practices dark magic?”
“I believe that a midwife couldn’t help her anyway. She’s a witch.” She spits on the dirt floor. “Best we can do is wait and see if her labor progresses.” The healer leaves the cottage, wiping her thick, dirty hands on her even filthier apron.
Ella whimpers and tries to sit up, pressing a hand against her belly.
I watch the cottage door slam shut then turn to my mate whose eyes are shimmering with pain. “Lie back, Ella. Try to rest.”
I’m not sure she’s entirely lucid at this point. I’ve only been apart from her for an hour at the most. I summoned Isaac, using an enormous amount of power to do so without a nearby water source, and told him what was happening. I’d sent Granger with Ella to the village, hoping the healer was someone actually willing to help us.
This healer, however, is suspicious and cold and is keen to let my mate suffer.
Ella murmurs incoherently then chokes on a scream of pain that sends fear and fury crawling up my spine. Her belly strains, rock hard, and she bows off the bed.
Two small hands appear beside me, placing a cool wet rag on Ella’s burning forehead.
I look up at the girl, who won’t meet my eyes. Her cheek is a furious red, and the outline of the healer’s hand is still visible as she brushes Ella’s hair away from her face and turns back to the hearth.
“Do you know anyone that could help her?” I ask.
“She’s very ill,” the girl says with her back turned to me. “Her fever is not going to break for some time, and Agatha is our only healer. She is… old school, in her treatments.”
Apparently, by old school, the girl means just letting her patients wait it out and risk death.
“My mate is in labor and in pain. There has to be something we can do–”
Ella jerks again, crying out. She falls back panting, struggling to breathe. That’s when I notice the blood beginning to seep through the sheets.
My stomach twists as I look up at the girl. She’s looking over her shoulder at Ella now, her small, dark eyes wide as she wrings her hands. “There is someone–”
“Who?”
Her eyes meet mine, wide, and concerned. “I’m not supposed to say. She’s not allowed in our village, but people travel to her for medicines… potions.”
“She’s a witch, then.”
“The White Witch.” She twirls a braid between two of her fingers.
I stare at the girl, narrowing my eyes. “Where can I find her?”
“She can’t come here!”
“Why not?” I motion toward Ella, who is writhing in pain. “I need her. Does she know–does she know anything about curses?” It’s a long shot, and my hope quickly dims as the girl shrugs, her expression strained and eyes watering.
“I–I don’t know. I shouldn’t have said anything!”
“Where is she?”
“In the mountains, a few miles from here. That’s all I know. My mom–my mom gets herbs from her sometimes, but that’s all I know. I swear.” She chews the inside of her cheek like she wants to say more. She glances at Ella and closes her eyes, shaking her head. “The healer who just left hates witches. She’s the only healer we have, though. She won’t let the witch come here.”
“Do you know anything about labor, then?”
She blinks at me. “Yes… a bit.”
“What is wrong with my mate then? Why is going into labor so early?”
“May I… touch her?”
I nod at the girl. I can tell she’s normally quiet, shy, maybe even prone to self-isolation, but she holds my gaze for a long time before taking a deep breath and laying her hands on Ella’s swollen stomach. Ella jerks, crying out in pain again. It cuts through me so deeply I swear I can feel her agony as the girl begins to press on her belly.
“The baby isn’t in position. It’s upside down, and low… and she–” She moves to the end of the bed, gingerly lifting the bloody sheets. Her mouth drops open, then snaps shut. “Her leg?”
The curse. The black tendrils of magic that are swallowing her whole. “Don’t worry about that. Why is she bleeding so badly? What can be done?”
“I don’t know. A hemorrhage, perhaps. Agatha–Agatha won’t stop the bleeding, though.”
“Why wouldn’t she?”
“She thinks all witches should die.”
Thunder cracks overhead. Lightning lights up the room through the window right before sheets of rain begin to hammer the thatched roof. The girl looks stricken as she slowly looks from Ella’s legs back up to her face, shaking her head. “You shouldn’t have brought her here. She’ll die here.”
Ella is trembling now. I grip her hand, unable to let go. Her fever burns into me, through me, spreading like wildfire.
“Ryatt,” she chokes, her eyes fluttering open.
At once, the girl backs away, turning around as if giving us a moment of privacy.
I brush Ella’s hair away from her face, resting my hand on her temple.
“I can’t bear it. It hurts so much,” she whimpers. “Something’s wrong, Ryatt. I need–I need help.”
“I know. I’m trying,” I tell her, biting back the swear words on the tip of my tongue.
“It’s the curse, isn’t it?” Her sea-green eyes lock on mine with so much fear behind them. “It’s killing us. Me and the baby. I–” She grits her teeth, trembling through another long, painful contraction. “She’s–she’s too early. She won’t make it if she’s born now.”
“I’m trying,” I tell her and notice the girl is looking over her shoulder at us, her expression conflicted. I need her to go find this witch, but her fear of the healer is obvious.
As if on cue, the healer storms back into the cottage licking what looks like grease from her fingertips. She scowls at me and Ella before catching the girl’s eyes and barking, “Have you been standing round twiddling your thumbs? Where is the boiling water for my tea?”
“Your tea?” I sneer, rising to my feet. ‘Water for your tea? What about my mate?”
“She’s going to have this baby, but there’s not much to it. It’s not my fault she’s a foul-blooded witch who can’t survive childbirth.”
My eyes flare with the magic I normally keep on a tight leash. The healer stumbles back, crashing into a cabinet, and gropes until she finds a large butcher knife.
“Do you have any idea who I am?” I whisper.
“Yes–I–” The healer can’t seem to catch her breath. “My–my lord, I didn’t realize–my Beta didn’t say the Alpha King of the Roguelands–”
“Help her,” I command in a vicious tone that sends a tremor of power through the cottage.
The healer nods, wide eyed, and slowly edges away from me. I follow her with my eyes until she goes to stand next to the hearth, motioning for the girl to continue boiling the water.
I ease back to Ella’s side. Ella’s eyes are barely open, her breathing ragged. She’s been dressed in a pale white nightgown that’s now damp with sweat. I look down at my mate, at the perfect woman that I was blessed with. I never deserved her. I don’t know if I’ll ever deserve her. I’d put myself in her place in a heartbeat. I’d give up everything–my lands, my life, just to give her a moment's peace right now.
“I will not be responsible for this,” the healer snaps at the girl. “I can’t have their blood on my hands. Do you know what he is, girl? The Shadow King. The King of Nightmares.”
I shake my head, trying to block out the conversation taking place near the hearth, how the healer believes I’ll skin her alive and do some sort of ritual with her bones if my Luna dies.
Maybe I will, if the horrible bitch doesn’t get a move on.
My heart rate spikes as my eyes catch the healer’s knife–red hot, like she’s been holding it in the embers.
“What are you doing?” I ask as she takes a step in our direction.
“Which one do you want me to save? The Luna or the baby?”