Page 82 of Wolf’s Fated Bride

Blade’s eyes brighten. “Let me guess. The royal family has an escape route?”

I nod. “How long do you need to get ready?”

“I was born ready.” He whistles, and Ash’s cousin enters the kitchen, along with another male.

“The Peacebroker is arriving with Wardens. We can assume they’re not here to renegotiate the treaty that the Stormcrest pack broke. They’ll find a way to blame Ash for the broken treaty and justify the kill orders that the Wardens will execute. They’ve had it in for Ash for a while, and the window of opportunity to take him out once and for all has arrived. If Ash died under the claw of a Stormcrest wolf, that would be acceptable. But this?” Blade points toward the living room. “This isn’t how Ash will go out. I can’t allow them to end him in this disgraceful manner. He would hate to die like a lazy bitch bleeding out on the floor while we all sit around crying about it. True?”

“True!”

“I’ve decided on a tactical retreat. We have a way out. Who’s with me?”

“We are,” they say in unison.

Blade turns to me. “Lead the way.”

Chapter 34

Ash

Imight have died. Am I dead?

My heavy eyelids won’t lift, so I sniff out the place. Incense laced with a chemical burn that reminds me of alchemy hits my gut. I pinch my lips to stop from vomiting. Do dead people vomit? I doubt it, but nobody knows for sure, so I can’t say.

A sharp pain stabs my temples. It feels like someone is trying to crack my skull open with a dull blade. I wish they’d use a sharper knife and end it already. This misery isn’t for me. I’m either alive or not. Fuck this. I try to sit up, but my stomach lurches.

Gently, someone directs my head, and I empty my belly into a container rather than on myself.

“Easy there, killer,” a woman says. Not Runa. Maybe it’s the Stormcrest healer.

I inhale, seeking her scent, but she stuffs my nostrils with gauze that smells like mint. It forces me to breathe through my mouth. I try to lift my hand to remove the gauze, but I can’t even do that.

Am I restrained? Oh, hell, no.

I jerk left and right, but can’t break the restraints. Probably because I’m weak. I hate being weak. My damn eyelids won’t open. It’s as if there’s something holding them down. Is there? Did she glue them shut?

“Release me at once,” I order. Even my voice sounds weak.

“Not yet.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Belda Kissimore. I’m a healer.” She peels back my eyelids. Apparently, I’m so drained, I can’t see on my own. A face hovers over me, the blur making it difficult to discern. If I weren’t restrained, I’d rub my eyes.

Growling, I thrash against the restraints and snarl at her. “You better kill me while you can or run when I recover.”

“Shut up, Ash, she’s trying to save your life.”

“Blade?”

“Mmhm. He can’t see me,” he says to the healer.

A warm, wet cloth wipes the fog off my eyes, and I blink, making out Blade’s face. Beyond him is a cloth ceiling that’s painted with motifs of the lunar cycle, wolves, and elements.

“Where am I?”

“In bed fighting the poison in your body,” the woman says.

I lift my head a notch, and the dull knifelike stabbing pain raises the bile in my belly.