Looking up, I gasp with dismay. Ahead of me, the vines have grown through the windows and doors of the palace, snaking inside and, in some places, prising the stone apart. Holes gape in the roof and walls. It will take thewhispsmore than a few seconds to fix this.
“Clear a path,” I order, and feed thewhispsa little more power. A gale rushes past me, tearing into the palace, taking it apart. Piece by piece, beam by beam, the structure is dismantled. Bestian and I will create a new palace after this.
If I’m not too late.
No. I won’t give up hope.
I push my shoulders back, and press on, calling his name as I enter the ruins.
I find him at the bottom of the ballroom stairs, in a bed of rotten moonflowers. My king is sprawled on his back, facing the sky. His cloak conceals most of his body, but every bare patch of his skin is a dull, mottled gray instead of vivid teal. His mask is gone, his expression still.
With my heart in my mouth, I drop to my knees beside him, seized with panic when, for a horrible moment, he doesn’t seem to be breathing. I put my trembling hand on his chest and, after a few agonizing seconds, my palm rises and falls with the barest movement. My heart finally starts beating again.
“Oh Bestian, my love,” I whisper. “What have you done to yourself?”
TWENTY-TWO
Bestian
At the farend of a dark corridor, I scent a hint of something wonderful. Sweet and sharply floral—Rose’s scent. There must still be some on my robe. Instead of bringing comfort, it brings the pain into sharper relief.
Unable to move my lips enough to roar, or yell, I allow myself to groan. The forlorn sound echoes in the lonely space.
“Bestian?”
Either I’m hallucinating, or I’m already dead. But then I hear it again. Louder, with a note of panic.
“Bestian?”
I struggle to focus on the blurry figure as it moves toward me. Her scent grows stronger, making me dizzy. I try to say her name but my lips won’t cooperate.
“Oh Bestian, my love, what have you done to yourself?”
She’s kneeling beside me, her huge brown eyes shimmering, a look of horror on her beautiful face. Ulf, I wish I could reach for her, comfort her, tell her she didn’t do anything. This was my choice. My sacrifice.
And I would do it all again. For my kingdom. For her.
“Can you talk?” Her hand is on my chest but I feel nothing.
I try to speak again, and fail. I can’t shake my head.
She’s stroking my ravaged face with her long, elegant fingers but I can’t feel her touch. Her scent is driving me out of my mind. I wish she hadn’t come back. I had thought nothing could be worse than being without her, but I was wrong. Seeing and hearing my Omega in distress and not being able to do an ulfdamn thing to soothe her is infinitely worse.
Instinctually, I try to purr, but the sound is strangled in my constricted chest. I can’t even do that. I’m helpless to do anything…
… except to die.
* * *
Rose
His breath whistles between his rigid lips. I can barely make out the word. “Rose.”
“I’m here.” I take his hand, stroking the scaly gray skin.
A groan creaks out of him.
“You did it. You saved everyone in the kingdom. You saved Ma.” I press my cheek to his. His cedar scent is tainted with ash. “It’s done. The curse is broken.”
