“Knots upon knots.” Mirelle said. “He isn’t spellbound, but there is some magic playing on his mind. We can start with the cloud, what looks like a shimmer over it all to you. It must be removed.”
Although their hands only moved slightly, Lycan could see the strands being pulled and moved. Greene and Seath had their eyes fixed on Donovan, though. The omega looked pale against the slab of tree. He whimpered in pain, head lolling from one side to the other.
“You are hurting him.” Seath growled the words. While Lycan might have been taken aback by Seath’s protective tone regarding another omega, the pain Donovan was obviously feeling trumped those thoughts.
Mirelle had a deep frown. “He’s not responding to the Seelie magic that should protect him. This is strange magic—“
Suddenly Donovan took in a rush of air, back arching off the bed in a sound of agony, before collapsing.
The picture in his mind flickered, the vision turning off like a television set and Lycan could feel the absence of life in Donovan.
Seath turned to Mirelle. “What happened?” He knew better than to believe what his eyes told him in the Seelie realm.
“The prince is dead.” Tremon said the words flatly, coldly. “And killed in the Seelie realm at that. It might be better for me that he’s gone, except now we must deal with this business.”
The floor of the Council chamber moved. Leaves and vines erupted from the earth, circled each other in what looked to be a fast-moving whirlpool. Then, they wrapped themselves around the body of Donovan, carrying it off the altar and on to the ground, where it remained in a cage of vines.
“This is the Seelie realm, and the Seelie realm will take care of its guests,” Mirelle stated.
Tremon turned to The Council. “I withdraw my original complaint and I wish to lay a new one. Recompense for the murder of Prince Donovan and for the broken bond. The blame for both obviously rest at the feet of the NorthWest Pack.”
The Councilors gasped, eyes moving from the man in the cage of vines to Tremon’s new volley of accusations.
Tremon moved to grab Lycan, but Seath was quick to pull Lycan even closer, until the ground grew more vines, like ropes, that crawled over his feet, wrapped his ankles, and locked him in place. He went still, knowing the vines of the Seelie realm moved tighter the more one fought them. The vines were clearly sent for him and him alone, leaving Tremon free to grab Lycan.
“You don’t touch him,” Seath snarled, but Tremon only raised an imperious eyebrow.
Reaching out to where Lycan stood, staring at Seath intertwined in the vines, Tremon easily pulled Lycan away and pushed him toward the altar.
“He’s next.”
Lycan turned from the push back into Seath’s arms, which came around him with all the strength and love he had come to associate with his mate. It silenced Seath’s verbal protests.
“Seath,” Lycan said, his lips ghosting close to Seath’s, “whatever happens, I thank you for saving me that day. I may not know who I am, but I do know that I love you.”
Seath closed his eyes to the image burned in his mind of a too-thin Lycan on the ground in the woods, baring his neck to the death-bite as Death looked on.
Seath pressed his mouth to Lycan’s, the kiss salty with their tears. “I love you, Lycan. If you ever wondered if it was a love match as well as a fated one—don’t.”
“Council, perhaps we should pause to consider further action,” Greene suggested.
Tremon looked ready to turn things physical as his icy glare hit Seath, but it was Mirelle who spoke.
“We cannot pause.”
Seath tried not to be affronted. He would say to anyone else that he considered Mirelle an ally. But she was Fae and they were dealing with a surprising turn of events. He hadn’t expected her to intervene, but was still disappointed that she didn’t.
He felt helpless and terrified and Lycan was motioned toward the same slab that Donovan had been on. But, Lycan was at his core the spellbound omega he had found in the woods running for his life. And while he didn’t have to bare his neck this time, he still squared his shoulders with the same sort of courageous surrender, kissed Seath as if it may be their last, and turned toward the slab.
“Seelie magic requires balance, counselors. These two men, Donovan and Lycan, are obviously connected by fate or magic or both. For the sake of the Prince,” she gestured to the vine-wrapped man, “we must continue. There must be balance between the two,” Mirelle said.
The vines cut into Seath because he could not relax, could not hold himself loose as he watched Lycan in the center of the table, and the coven reconvened.
Was Donovan even alive? Would his fate become that of Lycan, as well? But then, Seath noticed, Death wasn’t here. They hadn’t made an appearance, even with Donovan on the ground.
His heart ached, and a cool breeze let him know there were tears on his cheeks. That was his mate. His love. And in his time of need, all the Alpha power in the world didn’t matter.
He couldn’t help Lycan.
