I Bought Two Enslaved Men To Save Them From Execution, But I Didn’t Know I Purchased The Enemy Princes
Part 2
“Please,” I sobbed, bracing my body for the killing blow.
I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, waiting for the agonizing tear of sharp teeth against my fragile flesh.
My heart hammered furiously against my ribs like a trapped bird.
A deafening snarl suddenly rattled the heavy stone walls around us, vibrating straight through my bones.
A massive blur of solid muscle slammed violently into my attacker from the side.
The sickening crunch of bone meeting stone echoed down the empty corridor.
Dan stood over me, his own fangs bared and his broad chest heaving with extreme physical exertion.
His pale blue eyes were completely wild, filled with a terrifying, lethal rage.
He had not run away to safety and freedom like I truly thought he had.
He had actually fought his way back through the burning palace just for me.
“Look at exactly what you have done,” Dan growled at the whimpering shifter bleeding on the floor.
His voice was completely unrecognizable, dropping into a deep, vibrating register of pure Alpha command.
The attacker immediately bowed his head in absolute, terrified submission.
He scrambled away on all fours, shifting into a massive gray wolf as he fled into the smoke.
Dan dropped to his knees gracefully and cupped my bruised face gently in his large, warm hands.
His thumbs brushed away my panicked tears with a tenderness I never expected from a hardened warrior.
He promised fiercely that absolutely no one would ever hurt me again as long as he drew breath.
I leaned into his touch, my entire body shaking with a profound mixture of shock and sheer relief.
But my relief shattered into a thousand jagged pieces when heavy, armored footsteps echoed down the bloodstained hall.
A dozen massive shifter warriors marched into the gallery, completely blocking our only path of escape.
Dan’s imposing father, Greg, the ruthless Alpha King, had finally arrived to formally claim the fallen throne.
He surveyed the burning wreckage of my beloved childhood home with cold, calculating eyes.
He looked at his son kneeling protectively on the floor, and then he looked directly at me.
His gaze was completely devoid of any mercy or hesitation.
He wanted the human princess dead, and he was not the kind of king who took no for an answer.
Would Dan actually dare to defy his own bloodline and risk everything to save my life once again?
Part 3
Dan stood up, positioning his massive body between Megan and his father.
“She is under my protection,” Dan declared.
Greg raised an eyebrow, his expression completely unreadable.
“She is the daughter of the king who slaughtered our kind,” Greg stated.
“She is a prisoner of war.”
Tyler appeared from the smoke, his golden hair plastered to his forehead with sweat.
“Sire, she helped us,” Tyler interjected.
“She healed Dan when he was dying from the nightshade poison.”
Greg did not even look at Tyler.
“Bind her,” Greg ordered his guards.
“Take her to her chambers and guard the door.”
Dan growled, a deep, vibrating sound that shook the stone walls.
“Father, no,” Dan warned.
“Do not forget your place, my son,” Greg replied softly.
“You are a prince, but I am the Alpha.”
The guards stepped forward, holding heavy ropes.
Megan felt the last remnants of her courage evaporate.
She looked at Dan, begging him silently not to fight his own father.
Dan’s jaw clenched so hard the muscle ticked under his skin.
He stepped aside, his fists trembling at his sides.
The guards grabbed Megan by the arms.
They tied her wrists tightly in front of her.
They forced a harsh cloth gag into her mouth, tying it securely behind her head.
Megan could not stop the tears from spilling over her lashes.
She looked back as they dragged her away.
Dan watched her go, his expression a mask of absolute agony.
The palace seemed entirely too quiet when they threw her onto her own bed.
The guards locked the heavy wooden door from the outside.
Megan lay bound and gagged on the silk coverlet, staring at the ceiling.
Hours passed in agonizing silence.
She wondered if her father was dead.
She wondered if Heather had survived the invasion.
Suddenly, the metal latch clicked.
Tyler slipped into the room.
He closed the door silently behind him.
His big shoulders filled the frame, and his golden eyes looked carefully beaten.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Tyler whispered.
He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed.
Megan turned her face away from him.
“I know,” Tyler sighed.
“I know.”
“I would be furious with me, too.”
He did not reach to untie her ropes.
“I have strict orders,” Tyler explained, his voice low and miserable.
“The bindings, the gag.”
“That is the Alpha King’s order, not mine.”
“Not Dan’s.”
“He said the king’s daughter would remain bound until he explicitly said otherwise.”
Tyler spread his large hands in a gesture of utter helplessness.
Megan refused to look at him.
“There is something else I owe you the truth on,” Tyler said, drawing a slow, shaking breath.
“Dan and I let ourselves be taken at the auction.”
Megan’s heart dropped into her stomach.
“The whole point was to learn the palace from the inside out,” Tyler confessed.
“To find a secure way for our army to come through the gates.”
Megan closed her eyes, the betrayal slicing through her chest like a physical blade.
She had known.
Of course, she had known deep down.
She remembered how easily they had slipped the lock on the secret passage.
She remembered Dan’s cold confidence.
“I am so sorry I did not tell you,” Tyler pleaded.
Megan turned her head further into the soft pillow.
“Princess, please,” Tyler begged.
“Please look at me.”
He waited in the heavy silence.
She did not move a muscle.
“You saw what your father was,” Tyler continued, his voice breaking.
“You saw what his men did to our people.”
“He had to be stopped.”
The tight cloth gag cut into the corners of Megan’s mouth.
Fresh tears spilled over the bridge of her nose.
Tyler made a small, wrecked sound in the back of his throat.
“I am sorry,” Tyler repeated.
The heavy wooden door swung open again.
Greg stepped into the room.
Dan followed closely behind him.
Dan’s pale blue eyes locked onto Megan instantly.
He took in the harsh ropes digging into her wrists.
He saw the cruel gag cutting into her face.
He saw the wet tear tracks glistening on her cheeks.
Megan watched an undefinable emotion rip across Dan’s face.
“Tyler,” Greg said, his voice perfectly mild.
“What exactly are you doing in here?”
Tyler rose from the bed immediately, bowing his golden head.
“I was making sure the prisoner had come round, sire,” Tyler lied smoothly.
“The girl is a valuable prisoner of war,” Greg reminded him.
“One you were right to insist on taking, my son.”
Greg’s pale eyes turned slowly to Megan.
“Sit her up.”
Dan moved before Tyler could even twitch.
He crossed the room in two massive strides.
He slid his strong arm beneath Megan’s shoulders.
He lifted her up against the pillows with a gentle care that defied the brutal setting.
His rough fingertips brushed her cheek once, briefly, as though by complete accident.
“Princess,” Greg said, stepping to the foot of the bed.
Greg remained perfectly calm, his posture rigid.
“Your sister has declared herself the queen of your kingdom.”
Megan’s eyes widened in shock.
“As of dawn this morning, Heather has raised a massive army out of the southern provinces,” Greg continued.
“She has sent aggressive terms north on a fast rider.”
“She wants you back.”
Megan stared at the Alpha King, her mind spinning wildly.
Heather had declared herself queen?
That was utterly impossible.
Dan asked very quietly, “Why do you look surprised?”
Megan looked away from his piercing gaze.
“Answer him,” Greg ordered harshly.
Megan flinched violently against the pillows.
“Father,” Dan snapped, stepping in front of Greg.
“Scaring her is not going to make her speak any faster.”
Greg’s pale eyes flicked to his son, glittering with a cold warning.
But after a tense moment, Greg inclined his head in agreement.
Dan dropped down on one knee beside the bed.
He lifted his hands to the tight knot of the gag at the nape of her neck.
He untied it gently, letting the cloth fall away from her bruised mouth.
“Megan,” Dan said softly.
“Why are you surprised?”
“I am not,” Megan croaked, her throat dry and aching.
Dan did not press her further.
Neither did Tyler.
Greg broke the silence, pacing across the room.
“Tell me about her,” Greg commanded.
“Tell me about this new queen.”
Megan gave a small, sad shrug.
“She is very beautiful,” Megan whispered.
“Very cunning,” Tyler chimed in from the corner.
Dan rolled his eyes at Tyler’s interruption.
“She is hard to read,” Dan noted, looking at his father.
“Her scent is always carefully subdued.”
“Subdued,” Greg repeated, stopping his pacing.
“It is as though she does not smell like anything at all,” Dan explained.
Greg fell perfectly silent for a beat too long.
“Princess,” Greg said, stepping closer to the bed.
“Your father only had one daughter the last time I came to this palace.”
“And your mother had already passed away by then.”
A deep frown gathered between Greg’s pale brows.
“This would make your new queen a bastard child.”
Megan’s chin lifted defensively before she could stop it.
“Heather is not a bastard,” Megan argued fiercely.
“My father adopted her officially when we were small.”
“She is my true sister.”
Greg asked, his voice sharpening, “Adopted?”
“Some random human child?”
“Why would the king do that?”
“My father loved her,” Megan insisted.
“He loved Heather.”
“Child,” Greg interrupted, shaking his head.
“Your father was a king.”
“A king knows the brutal intricacies of royal succession.”
“He would not have adopted some random orphan and put her in the line of inheritance.”
“He would not make her your absolute equal in his official will.”
Greg shook his head slowly, his eyes dark with realization.
“That is not a thing a king does for simple love.”
Greg began to pace the room again, his heavy boots thudding against the stone.
Tyler watched him carefully.
“It makes sense she was adopted, though,” Tyler noted slowly.
“Now that I think on it.”
“They do not look very much alike at all.”
Greg’s frown deepened into a scowl.
Greg demanded, “What?”
Tyler gestured at her vaguely.
“Well, Megan is…”
“Cute, kind.”
“She looks like a person you would want to bring home and feed.”
“The sister, though,” Tyler twisted his mouth in distaste.
“She is a real piece of work.”
“Look right there.”
Tyler pointed a thick finger at the back wall of the chamber.
There was a small painting hanging near the wardrobe.
It had hung there since Megan was twelve years old.
It was a portrait of the two of them, Heather and Megan, standing side by side in the royal garden.
Heather was a head taller, her black hair cascading down her back.
Her bright green eyes already looked far too clever for her young face.
Greg crossed the room and stared hard at the painting.
His face did not move at first.
Then all the blood drained from his features.
Dan asked, stepping toward him, “Father?”
Greg did not answer.
He stepped even closer to the canvas.
Greg pointed a shaking finger at Heather.
“Is that her?”
“The sister.”
“Yes,” Dan confirmed.
Greg muttered a harsh, ugly word in his native shifter tongue.
“Father,” Dan said, his voice rising with alarm.
“What is it?”
Greg turned around slowly.
He looked directly at Megan.
There was a grim, sorrowful comprehension etched into his weathered face.
“Your people have hunted mine for decades,” Greg said quietly.
“And yet your father secretly adopted a shifter child.”
Megan stared at him for a long heartbeat.
His words did not make any sense to her.
Megan whispered, “What?”
“She shook her head in sheer denial.”
“Heather is not a shifter.”
“Of course she is,” Greg stated flatly.
“I knew her mother personally.”
“She looks exactly like her mother, right down to the unnatural green of her eyes.”
“I do not understand,” Megan breathed, her reality fracturing.
Greg straightened his spine, pulling his authority around himself like a cloak.
“Dan, Tyler, with me now,” Greg barked.
“Father,” Dan argued, looking back at Megan.
“Now, my son,” Greg commanded.
“We have miscounted the political board entirely.”
“The girl on this bed is not the grand prize.”
“She is the bait.”
“The new queen is not riding north to rescue her beloved sister.”
“She is riding north to draw us out into the open where she can finish what her mother started.”
Greg’s voice hardened into steel.
“Is that clear?”
A long, suffocating pause filled the room.
“Yes, Alpha,” Dan said, his voice barely a rumble.
He looked at Megan.
He looked at her the exact way he had looked at her across the dark orchard the night he escaped.
It was the look of a man leaving his soul behind.
“I will come back,” Dan promised.
The words were barely audible.
Then he was out the door.
Tyler followed him, shooting one last apologetic look over his broad shoulder.
Greg’s heavy footfalls faded down the corridor.
The heavy wooden door closed with a small, dry click.
Across the room on the back wall, Heather smiled down at her from the painted canvas.
They brought her to the ruined throne room at dusk.
It was her father’s grand throne room, but it felt entirely foreign.
The royal banners were torn down and shredded across the marble floor.
Armed wolves in their human forms lined the high stone walls.
Massive wolves in their true, monstrous shapes lay along the foot of the dais like breathing gray hills.
Her father’s great carved wooden chair stood completely empty.
Greg stood proudly before it rather than sitting upon it.
It was as though even the Alpha King would not take that tainted seat.
Megan was forced to kneel at the bottom of the stone steps.
Her wrists were still bound tightly with rough rope.
Dan stood rigidly at his father’s right hand.
Tyler stood a pace behind Dan, his warm golden eyes never leaving Megan’s kneeling form.
“Princess,” Greg’s voice carried clearly across the vast room.
“You asked me this morning what you did not understand.”
“I will tell you the truth now.”
“You have earned that much.”
Megan lifted her chin stubbornly and said nothing at all.
“Twenty years ago, there was a powerful clan of snake shifters in the deep south,” Greg began.
“Their royal queens were born with a rare, dark gift in the blood.”
“Influence.”
“They could not force a man to act directly against his own will.”
“But they could lean heavily on his mind.”
“A poisonous whisper here.”
“A lingering doubt there.”
“Drop upon drop, until the victim could no longer tell which thoughts were his own.”
Greg’s pale eyes remained steady and merciless.
“We went to war with those snakes.”
“Your father rode proudly beside me in that bloody campaign.”
“We scattered them across the continent.”
“We believed we had finally ended the royal line.”
“We were wrong.”
“The snake queen had a hidden daughter.”
“That daughter survived the massacre.”
“She found her way north to the one royal house best placed to take her ultimate revenge.”
“The house of the human king who had helped destroy her entire people.”
Megan gaped at the Alpha King, her chest heaving.
“She came to him as a tragic, motherless human child,” Greg explained.
“And your father took her in out of misplaced pity.”
“And then slowly, drop upon drop, she began to lean on his mind.”
Greg’s voice did not rise, but the anger underneath it was palpable.
“The paranoia.”
“The cruelty.”
“The brutal war on my people who had once been your father’s greatest allies.”
“None of it was his own doing.”
“It was hers, worn like a mask on his face.”
“I asked him last night to look at me and speak my name.”
“He could not do it because there was almost nothing of his own mind left.”
Greg released a heavy, exhausted sigh.
“The glassy eyes.”
“The empty, repeating words.”
“That was not a tragic illness, child.”
“That was the magical working showing right through the cracks in his broken mind.”
Megan squeezed her eyes shut.
“He did not stop loving me,” Megan whispered to the empty room.
She bent over her bound hands and wept silently.
Her hot tears fell onto the cold, unforgiving stone floor.
Greg let her have a brief moment of mourning.
“Only a moment,” Greg warned.
“Which brings us to the massive army currently riding toward our gates.”
“Your sister has named herself the rightful queen and demanded you back immediately.”
“She wants this war.”
“She wants to bathe the continent in blood.”
“The cleanest way I have to deny her this war is brutally simple.”
Greg’s voice did not soften in the slightest.
“I must send her back your severed head.”
Megan jerked her head up in pure horror.
“If you are dead, she has no royal banner to rally behind,” Greg stated coldly.
“The southern human lords only rallied their armies to save you, the true princess.”
Greg drew a slow, calculating breath.
“I do not enjoy this bloody arithmetic, but I am a king.”
“I am sorry, child.”
“No,” Tyler yelled, breaking the heavy silence.
Tyler stepped quickly from the line of guards.
He dropped to one knee on the marble steps, his golden head bowed in submission.
“Sire, give her to me,” Tyler begged.
“Let me formally claim her.”
“A claimed mate of the Beta line is not a prisoner of war.”
“She would be Pack under our full protection.”
“No,” Greg commanded instantly.
Tyler’s head snapped up, his golden eyes flashing.
“You are exceptionally fond of her,” Greg acknowledged.
“You would die for her, I do not doubt that.”
“But fondness is not a fated soul bond.”
Greg’s gaze bored into Tyler’s defiant face.
“I will not let you throw yourself on the sacrificial blade for a thing you only wish were true.”
Tyler’s jaw worked frantically as he searched for an argument.
“But,” Tyler began again.
“Enough,” Dan’s voice echoed through the room like thunder.
Dan stepped away from his father’s side.
He walked slowly down the marble steps toward Megan.
“Stand up,” Dan said softly.
Megan tried to obey, but her legs absolutely refused to hold her weight.
She collapsed back onto the cold stone.
Dan knelt down gracefully in front of her.
He took her painfully bound wrists in both of his massive hands.
He began to work the heavy knot loose with his strong thumbs.
“Dan,” Greg warned sharply.
“What exactly are you doing, my son?”
Dan did not look back at the Alpha King.
“Killing her is the small, cowardly move, Father,” Dan stated boldly.
“Megan is not a simple pretext.”
“She is the true, legitimate heir to this kingdom.”
“She is the only trueborn child of King Craig.”
“You have the rightful queen of the south kneeling right here against the usurper who poisoned her father.”
Greg studied his son with a newly calculating eye.
“Heather will see it coming from miles away,” Greg countered.
“The instant we publicly name your princess our political ally.”
“Heather will name her a vile traitor.”
“A wolf-bewitched puppet who foolishly opened her own father’s gates to the enemy.”
“Which, I must remind you, your princess actually did.”
Megan flinched at the harsh reminder of her treason.
Dan did not let go of her freed hands.
“Then we make it far more than a simple political alliance,” Dan declared.
The entire throne room went dead quiet.
“A mate claim is not a banner she can tear down with a clever political word,” Dan said.
“A claim is sacred magic.”
“Megan is mine, and I am hers.”
“And there is not a wolf or man or snake alive who can ever say otherwise.”
“No, I suppose not,” Greg agreed softly.
“If it is actually true.”
Dan finally turned his head and looked directly into Megan’s eyes.
“It is true,” Dan said with absolute conviction.
His pale blue eyes were completely bare.
Everything he had spent a torturous fortnight burying was simply there in them.
It was naked, raw, and completely unguarded.
Megan could not look away from the intense devotion shining in his gaze.
“I felt it the very moment I saw her kneeling in chains,” Dan confessed to the room.
“I told myself she was the human enemy.”
“I told myself it was a twisted trick of the mind.”
“I walked out on her without looking back because I did not trust myself to look at her again.”
Dan’s deep voice roughened with raw emotion.
“And then I felt her in mortal danger from half a palace away.”
“I knew right then that she is my fated mate.”
“There is no part of this that is a lie.”
Megan’s breath shook out of her lungs in a ragged gasp.
She felt the powerful truth of it radiating from his skin.
She felt the terror and the desperate want pooling in her own stomach.
It poured through her veins, warm and entirely undeniable.
“I claim you, Megan,” Dan whispered, so low only she could hear.
“If you will have me.”
If she would have him?
It was as though there had ever been a real choice.
It was as though her body had not instinctively turned toward his in the dark every single night.
It was as though she had not felt like a lost compass needle finally finding its true north.
“Yes,” Megan said, her voice echoing perfectly in the quiet room.
Her eyes darted just once, helplessly, toward Tyler kneeling on the steps nearby.
Tyler gave her the smallest, saddest nod of encouragement.
Go on, sweetheart, his golden eyes seemed to say.
She turned her complete attention back to Dan and smiled through her tears.
“Yes, I will have you.”
The invisible door in her chest and the heavy door in his swung wide open in the exact same instant.
A profound, magical warmth passed between them that required absolutely no words.
Greg let out a long, heavy breath that seemed to echo for miles.
“A fated soul bond cannot be denied,” Greg announced to the watching crowd.
“Not by me, and not by any mortal law.”
He looked critically at the two of them kneeling on the stone floor.
“It legitimizes her completely in the eyes of the Pack.”
“It puts the true, rightful queen of the south on our side by sacred law.”
“You have successfully given me my far better move, Dan.”
“I will gladly take it.”
Greg turned away briskly, already shouting orders for his military captains to gather.
On the cold floor of her father’s ruined throne room, Dan drew Megan up into his massive arms.
He held her the exact way he had held her in the dangerous corridor during the attack.
He held her hard, wrapping both strong arms completely around her small frame.
He buried his face deep into the messy strands of her dark hair.
Tyler watched them from the steps, and the look on his face was incredibly complex.
He looked profoundly glad and bitterly grieving all at the exact same time.
He was glad for his brother’s newfound happiness and grieving for his own broken heart.
Megan, resting her cheek against Dan’s furiously hammering chest, reached one trembling hand out toward Tyler.
Tyler did not hesitate.
He came down the remaining steps instantly.
He folded his big, rough hand around hers tightly and absolutely refused to let go.
The three of them stood perfectly still together in the smoky wreckage of the fallen kingdom.
The days that followed were a chaotic blur of intense military preparations.
The Alpha King moved his entire massive army south to intercept Heather’s advancing forces.
They set up a sprawling war camp on the rolling green plains near the border.
Thousands of shifter tents dotted the landscape like gray mushrooms.
The air was constantly thick with the sharp scent of woodsmoke, roasting meat, and anxious anticipation.
Megan had been given her own large canvas tent in the center of the heavily guarded encampment.
Dan refused to leave her side for more than a few minutes at a time.
His protective instincts had flared to an almost suffocating level since the mating bond settled.
He paced the perimeter of her tent at all hours, his pale blue eyes constantly scanning for threats.
Tyler stayed close as well, acting as their loyal shadow and providing a buffer against the suspicious generals.
Megan awoke one night to a remarkably cold hand stroking her messy hair.
For one warm, hazy, half-dreaming moment, she foolishly thought it was Dan.
Then she smelled something sickly sweet that absolutely did not belong in their military tent.
Her eyes flew open in sheer panic.
Heather sat elegantly on the edge of the simple army cot.
She wore a luxurious riding cloak of midnight blue velvet that blended perfectly into the shadows.
“There you are,” Heather whispered, her voice cracking slightly.
“I have been so incredibly frightened for you.”
“I have not slept a single wink since those beasts took you away.”
“I raised half the entire southern continent in a fortnight just for you, Megan.”
Megan’s throat closed tightly with complicated emotions.
She slowly realized that the camp outside was completely, unnaturally silent.
She also noticed that beside her, despite the sudden intrusion, Dan did not stir at all.
He lay deep and motionless in the heavy blankets, his breathing dangerously slow and even.
A wave of freezing dread closed over Megan’s racing heart.
Megan demanded in a fierce whisper, “What did you do to him, Heather?”
“Nothing he will not eventually wake from,” Heather replied smoothly.
Heather’s cold hand reached out and found Megan’s pale face in the dark.
“Come home with me right now.”
“I have a fast horse waiting.”
“I have a clear road mapped south.”
“I have a massive kingdom that is rightfully yours for the taking.”
Heather’s voice dropped to a desperate, pleading whisper.
“I cannot lose you, too.”
“I have lost absolutely everyone.”
“Mother, father, everyone I have ever truly loved.”
Megan carefully took her sister’s shaking hands in both of her own.
“I cannot go with you,” Megan whispered back sadly.
Heather flinched as though she had been slapped hard across the face.
Heather hissed, her green eyes flashing with sudden rage.
“Because of them?”
“They are bloodthirsty monsters, Megan.”
“They murdered our father in cold blood.”
Megan took a deep, steadying breath.
“Our father was completely gone long before they ever arrived at the palace.”
She forced herself to say the terrible words aloud.
“I know exactly what you did to him, Heather.”
“I know what you really are.”
“I know all about your mother and the ancient snake shifter war.”
Megan watched her beautiful sister go bone-white in the dim moonlight.
“He ruthlessly destroyed my entire people,” Heather implored, her voice trembling with decades of grief.
“I was only five years old.”
“I watched my family burn alive.”
“The wolves did that to me, Megan.”
“They are the true monsters.”
“They are not monsters,” Megan stated firmly.
“I know it is the hardest thing in the entire world for you to hear, but it does not have to end in war.”
She pressed her sister’s icy hand tightly to her own wet cheek.
“You loved father.”
“The real one, the one who happily took you in off the streets.”
“The one who read bedtime stories to us by the fireplace.”
“The one who was kind and gentle before either of us understood what your dark powers slowly did to his mind.”
“I know you genuinely loved his kindness.”
“Stop chasing endless war, Heather, and choose kindness instead.”
For a long, agonizing moment, her sister was utterly, terrifyingly still.
Behind the bright, unnatural green of her eyes, Megan finally saw the frightened little child who had decided violent revenge was the only safe path left.
“At least agree to talk to me officially,” Megan pleaded.
“Meet with me in the neutral zone.”
“Let us see if there is any possible way to peace.”
“Please, I am still your sister.”
Heather looked at her in silence for a very long time.
Then her sharp gaze drifted past Megan to the massive sleeping man on the army cot.
She noted the intimate way Megan’s body instinctively curved protectively in front of him.
Heather asked, genuine disbelief coloring her tone, “You actually love him?”
“Yes,” Megan answered immediately.
It was the absolute easiest word Megan had ever spoken in her entire life.
She thought of the magical door in her chest that never closed anymore.
She thought of waking up warm and safely tangled in his arms every single morning.
She thought of his low, rumbling voice comforting her in the terrifying dark.
“With everything I am,” Megan confirmed fiercely.
“I love him completely.”
“He is mine, and I am his.”
Something in Heather’s beautiful face went incredibly soft and sad and almost glad.
Then, in a fraction of a second, the expression completely changed.
All at once, the profound grief was tucked away flawlessly like a sharp blade sliding back into its leather sheath.
Heather tilted her head slightly to the side.
Her red-rimmed eyes lit up with something almost painfully playful.
Heather asked, as light as anything, “And what about the other one?”
It was exactly as though they were little girls again, trading silly secrets behind a velvet curtain.
“What of him?”
It made Megan frown deeply in absolute confusion.
Megan asked, “What other one?”
“The golden-haired one, currently lying unconscious just outside your tent flap,” Heather clarified.
Heather’s perfect smile curved with a wicked sort of amusement.
“Do not be coy with me, sister.”
“I have perfectly good eyes.”
Megan’s stomach dropped like a lead weight.
“Tyler,” Megan gasped in horror.
“Did you hurt him?”
“Heather, did you seriously hurt him?”
Megan heard how shrill and panicked her own voice came out, but she absolutely could not stop it.
Because if Heather had severely harmed Tyler, there would be absolutely no peace meeting.
There would be no white flag of truce.
There would be no peace ever again.
Dan would personally tear the entire South apart stone by bloody stone and never look back.
And Megan was not entirely sure she could ever forgive her sister either.
Heather snorted indelicately.
“Well, I did have to get past him somehow, didn’t I?”
“Relax, sister.”
“He only sleeps.”
“He is far too pretty to kill quickly, that one.”
Megan absolutely did not like the dark, suggestive way Heather said that.
“The peace meeting,” Megan pressed urgently, desperate to change the subject.
“Will you promise to come?”
Heather stood up gracefully and drew her dark cloak tightly around her slim shoulders.
“For you,” Heather said very low, her voice thick with sudden emotion.
“I will come.”
Then, faster than the eye could track, Heather vanished into the shadows of the tent.
Megan stood alone in the empty, silent space with her face wet with tears and her heart in a million pieces.
She was deeply grieving the sister she had lost, but she finally had real hope for the future.
She quickly ran outside into the cool night air.
Tyler lay sprawled awkwardly in the damp grass, completely dead to the world, but entirely unharmed.
She dropped down beside him heavily and pressed her trembling hand flat against his warm, rising chest.
She finally remembered how to breathe.
Neither Tyler nor Dan would wake from the magical sleep for several more hours.
So Megan simply sat down on the grass between them in the cold, gray hour right before dawn and waited.
There was still a massive, looming war to prevent.
There was still the deeply festering old wound behind Heather’s green eyes to heal.
But there was undeniably hope.
And for the very first time in her entire life, Megan did not feel completely alone.
Some powerful bonds were fated by ancient magic.
Some profound bonds were actively chosen by the heart.
Hers were only just beginning.
THE END
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Disclaimer
This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Names, characters, and details have been altered. Any resemblance is coincidental. The author and publisher disclaim accuracy, liability, and responsibility for interpretations or reliance. If you would like to share your story, please send it to [email protected].
