Lycan's Affection

Eleanor raised a hand to stop the caravan as they gradually approached the lycan palace. They stopped, and with a small huff, she let herself down.

"Bring her to the underground dungeon."

Ruth's eyes widened. "This is not what we agreed on, Eleanor."

"I do not even remember having an agreement with you. You...asked to be brought back to the lycan kingdom. And here we are."

"How can you do this to me?!"

"How can I not?" Eleanor asked, taking a step closer. "You thought I would be foolish enough to bring you close to me so you can wreck whatever havoc you want?"

Ruth swallowed hard. "I have the poppy and..."

"You already admitted it was of no use. And you do not seem to know how to apply it, even if you did have one. You are better suited for the dungeon."

Two assassins caught her from each side, and she gasped, her eyes widening even more as she realized what was about to happen.

"Eleanor! Eleanor, I am pregnant! Do you have no compassion for a child?!"

Eleanor nodded. "Unfortunately, I do. So, I shall cater for you. From above. Take her away, I do not have all day."

All of Ruth's screams and howls fell on deaf ears as they took her away to the dungeon. Eleanor walked to the palace, then stopped by the door, her eyes misting up.

She had thought she would come back quick to him and possibly bring a cure with her. But she had failed yet again. She clenched her fists, then closed her eyes as she tried to brace herself for what she would see.

Slowly, she walked in. The palace still smelled like him. His essence in every step that she took. It was so strong she thought she could see him. She gave a small, wistful smile as she caught sight of his favourite sword. He had not even taken it for the war.

She had started to walk to it when she heard a shrill yell from Conaan's chamber.

"Bring me the incense!" Someone screamed again.

Abandoning her original path, she ran up the stairs towards the chambers. She gasped when she saw what was happening. The healers were scrambling around, sweat and dread filling their faces. Conaan, however, was still lying on the bed, his chest rising and falling in a sickening rhythm. He was struggling for breath, his chest rising and falling literally off the bed and on it.

"What is happening?" She asked, running to his side. She went on her knees, her hands going to his chest.

"We do not understand. We can take it as a good sign that he is not fully unconscious, but if it continues like this and he loses air, he might..."

"No, no, no," Eleanor said, straightening. Her foot hit the vase just beside the bed, the one she had spent hours trimming. It crashed to the floor in a loud sound, the flowers falling away from it.

Eleanor did not spare it a glance as she leaned over, her hand coming to lightly pinch Conaan's nose close.

She took in as much air as she could, then leaned to him, her lips opening his. She tried her best to focus on trying to resuscitate him, rather than the taste that still stayed dominant in his lips.

Her eyes closed as tears filled them, and she slowly moved away, her body falling back to the floor. He was no longer hysterical, his arms now dangling off the bed. The healers worked around him again, covering him in healing oils and incense and acupuncture.

She shook her head, then buried her face in her arms, her body shaking with the force of her tears.

"My lady." She turned to a male healer.

"Yes?"

"One of the boys has woken up."

She nodded, wondering when she would hear that Conaan had woken too. There had been no celebrations for their victory over Polaris still since no one knew what would happen to Conaan. No one wanted to rejoice the King's demise.

She stood slowly, then started to walk to the door when she stepped on part of the shattered glass. She moved sharply, then bent to check her foot. There was a very small cut, and she cussed under her breath. Grabbing the folded paper on the floor next to her, she started to clean out the blood when something caught her eye.

There was a small sign on the edge of it. She stood, her eyes squinting as she saw yet another paper.

"I will come soon," she said, dismissing the healer.

He nodded, then walked away. She held the two papers in her hand, then slowly opened the first one. It was written in code, and she opened the other one. It was Conaan's handwriting.

"If anything happens to me, take care of Matthew."

Her brows furrowed. She could not understand if he meant that he was leaving Matthew in her care or if...

She quickly opened the other one, her eyes wide. It was the werewolf code she and Alexander used when they had first started exchanging letters.

She swallowed, trying hard to recall the codes for each letter. She stared at it for a very long while, her feet tapping hard on the floor, not minding the wound.

"Anderson," she started, her eyes falling to the rest of the letter. "Ensure...Conaan does not find Matthew."

She swallowed. There was still more, and she struggled to decode it.

"Matthew's blood carries a resistance to the poppy poison. It was his gift. The poison was made to resist poppy flowers, but Matthew's blood is capable of breaking it. He is Conaan's weapon against us. He already has a mate. Once he finds my brother, he will be complete. We can not let that bastard be complete."

Eleanor's hands fell to her side once more, her eyes widening. She remembered when Conaan had asked her if Matthew was Alexander's only brother. That means...

But even if Matthew was the cure, what role did her mate bond play?

She looked up. One of them had woken up. If it was Matthew...

She turned to Conaan, tears of joy filling her eyes. With quick strides, she covered the distance to him, then kissed his forehead before she ran out of the room.