Chapter 84

Nicole reached the queen’s suite quickly, hoping that what she would be dealing with wouldn’t be too bad. She knocked on the door expecting an answer, but none came. A servant she recognized readily opened the door with a grave expression.

Mira had been with the August family for years. She knew about Nicole’s relation to Daphne and more than most about the August family. If she looked so grave, Nicole knew it was worse than she could have expected.

“Mira?”

Mira let her inside and closed the door behind her. Daphne’s scent had changed, leaning a little closer to the scent of a true vampire than before. Given the timing of the change, she was suspicious. They knew of plenty of half-human vampires who had never had the thirst for blood. There were also some who, for one reason or another, had taken on the full change. Those few had a bit of an advantage over born vampires in that they tended not to be sensitive to sunlight even after the change.

If Daphne had been attacked and the urge had been great enough, it could have been enough to change her, but what of her escort? Mira led her into the bedchamber and she froze seeing Daphne lying on the bed eerily still. Even the sound of her breathing seemed muted, though her chest moved as always.

Her clothes were mussed with dirt and movement as if she had been running. There was the faintest scent of a horse suggesting she’d been on a horse at some point. Her hair was tangled and matted in places with loose leaves and the dust of the canyon.

She looked as though she’d spent the night running.

“I haven’t changed her yet,” Mira said. “I thought it best to have you examine her first.”

She nodded and approached. Daphne’s eyes were moving behind her eyelids. She was paler than she had been before, but she didn’t seem injured. There were some splotches of blood on her shirt and vest, but there was nothing to tell her that she had been injured enough to lose that much blood.

“Daphne?” She didn’t stir. She didn’t even twitch. Her heart rate had slowed considerably, it was nearly imperceptible.

“Have you tried to wake her?”

Mira’s eyes were glossy as she nodded, and Nicole clenched her jaw. Daphne had entered Eternal Sleep or at least something like it. She didn’t know how long she would be able to stay in such a state since she was human. It could kill her. If Daphne died like this, she’d probably walk away from the vampire nation and let the werewolf kingdom finish them off, but she reserved a bit of hope. Daphne was not the same woman Rose or Lily or any of her ancestors had been. She was bonded to a werewolf and half-human.

Anything was possible. She relished the idea of murdering John and everyone connected to this idiotic plan with her bare hands to calm herself and re-center her focus.

In her experience, there were only a few things that could have sent Daphne into this state: grave injury, traumatic stress, and severe uses of magic. Rose had fallen into Eternal Sleep after she’d murdered a whole battalion of werewolves.

What had John done to Daphne? She could risk reaching into her mind with her magic, but she wouldn’t risk doing more damage.

“Keep anyone from entering for a while.”

Mira nodded, “Of course… Should I wait outside?”

“It may be best…” She swallowed. “I don’t know what I’m about to find.”

“I’m sorry,” Mira said softly before leaving. The door clicked behind her as Nicole prepared herself.

She took a seat at the corner of Daphne’s bed and started with the obvious. There were no wounds on her neck, but there was one on her wrist along with an ugly purpling bruise.

Shackles were the first thing she thought of as the same ring of bruising was on her other wrist. She was cooler to touch making Nicole think she had used magic of some kind.

She eyed her legs suspiciously. Aside from the tear in one of the legs, they seemed unharmed which was suspicious if she’d been attacked. It seemed as though someone had grabbed her by her leg and pulled, but she hadn’t faced anyone with blades or claws. Daphne had struggled. The bruises around her ankles said that she’d been shackled there.

She hadn’t been gone long enough to get these bruises without struggling.

Nicole shook her head and braced herself as she cast the spell over Daphne. It was a basic monitoring spell that would tell her Daphne’s general state.

The blue light drifted over Daphne’s body, pooling around her head, each of her arms and legs before turning golden as it pooled over her hips.

Her heart lurched.

Daphne was pregnant.

The bruising was healing far quicker than it should have been. Even the wound in her arms seemed too shallow to have only happened the night or so before. Daphne’s magical abilities were awakening.

She hadn’t been attacked by vagrant vampires, she was sure of that. John had likely used vagrant vampires in his militia and was recruiting the outcasts of other territories to his cause.

And what of the rest of the escort.

Her heart lurched at the thought. They were likely dead or worse. The duchess’ husband had been known to promote the turning of werewolves to reinforce the ranks, but Nicole had never subscribed to that method. Turned werewolves were little more than fodder for killing in terms of ability.

If John and the duchess had joined forces, then Daphne’s escort had likely been turned.

If Daphne had witnessed it, it could have been enough to traumatize her into falling into Eternal Sleep. She’d fought sometime after she’d been captured, so she might have exhausted her magical reserve as well.

The single bite wound and the change in her vitals were concerning though. She glanced back at the spell, checking the movement of the light. There was a small, almost imperceptible thread of red light running through her chest. It vanished as it got closer to the glowing gold pool around her hips. The baby felt healthy, vibrant, and developing quickly.

The boy was Arthur’s child, she was sure. She cast another spell to try and figure out what the red thread was and found it tangled and attacking a thin silver-white line that went through her chest and to where the baby was.

Daphne told her that she and Arthur were mates and had married formally. She didn’t know exactly what that meant for werewolves, but if it was anything like a vampire’s blood bond then the silver-white line had to be her bond with Arthur.

There were remnants of the silver-white light running towards her head, but it seemed fragmented. Her heart lurched and she clenched her jaw as she figured it out.

John had tried to force a blood bond. It would explain the bite wound in her arm. She’d have to examine to try and figure out if he’d managed to form even half a bond with her, but she didn’t think that was possible. Even if he had forced his blood upon her and drank from her, her bond with Arthur would fight it.

To what end, she had no idea.

A knock sounded on the door and she dispelled the spell.

“General, Captain Valon is here.”

“Allow him entry,” she said, standing and closing the doors to Daphne’s bedchamber behind her.

Valon entered with a nod to her, “General, I am here as you have ordered. How can I serve you?”

“I am tasking you with a trip to the border to meet with the werewolf king.”

“As you wish.”

“You will go alone and no one is to know that you will go.” She looked at Mira. “When you entered, was there a note on the table?”

Mira frowned, shaking her head, “No, general. Did you leave a message for me?”

“No,” Mira said. “Daphne left a message for me and now it is gone. I don’t think I have to explain what that means.”

Valon looked grave, “Is Her Highness alright?”

“She lives, but she is in no state to be seen. As such, she is in no state to return to the werewolf kingdom as first planned. Still, he deserves to be updated.”

She wasn’t sure what she would tell him. She hoped it was enough to calm the young king’s heart and get ahead of this foolishness. She didn’t have much information, but what little she could give him she would. She sighed and sank into a chair. What about his child? If Daphne never woke and he knew about his child, it would only complicate things. He was young. Younger than his father had been when he stood across the battlefield from her with a hardness to him that neither Dean nor Osborn had.

“When you meet with the werewolf king, you will deliver this message.”