I nodded grimly, settling on Bastien’s other side. Together, we positioned him between us, our bodies creating a fortress around his smaller form. Protection was instinctive now. The three of us against the endless horrors of the Dark Lord’s domain.
“I’m not dying,” Bastien muttered, though the effort of speaking made him wince. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“No one said you were,” I replied, trying for a lightness I didn’t feel. “But even the most stubborn prince needs rest occasionally.”
Marcel’s thought brushed against mine, private from Bastien.He’s getting worse. The poison shouldn’t have affected him this long. Something’s different about this attack.
I met my older brother’s gaze over Bastien’s head.I know. The Dark Lord is changing tactics. Using something stronger.
We both knew what that meant. Our enemy was getting desperate, or creative. Neither option boded well for us. But at least we’d felt a change in Isabeau over the past few days. A strengthening. Her presence in our bond had been more consistent, more alert, though strangely distant from the castle.
“She’s awake more,” Bastien murmured, proving he was still coherent enough to track the connection that bound us all together. “Growing stronger.”
“Yes,” I agreed, taking comfort in that small mercy. Whatever hell Isabeau was enduring in our absence, she at least wasn’t starving anymore. “But she’s not at the castle.”
Marcel’s growl rumbled through the ledge beneath us. “No. Someone’s taken her.”
The knowledge should have enraged me. It would have, under different circumstances. Isabeau belonged with us. At the castle. Where our bond was strongest. But I couldn’t ignorethe evidence of my senses. She was healthier now. More aware. Her fear had lessened, replaced by a wary sort of comfort that suggested she was being cared for, even if she remained cautious.
“She’s better off,” I said finally, the admission tearing from me like a piece of myself. “Wherever she is, she’s being fed. Kept warm. Protected.”
“By someone else,” Marcel growled, the possessiveness in his tone something I understood too well. We’d only just found her—our mate, our salvation—before being ripped away. The thought of another protecting what was ours...
“Does it matter?” I asked softly, watching Bastien’s chest rise and fall with concerning irregularity. “If she’s safe? If she’s healing? We always said we wanted what was best for her, even if it wasn’t us.”
Bastien’s laugh was a pained wheeze. “Always the diplomat, Laurent. Always trying to see the best in every shitty situation.”
I smiled despite everything, combing my clawed fingers gently through his matted fur. “Someone has to balance out your cynicism, little brother.”
Truth was, I didn’t like it any more than they did. The thought of Isabeau with another protector made something primal and ugly twist in my chest. But we had more immediate concerns. Like keeping Bastien alive long enough to find a way out of this realm. Like figuring out how to break the Dark Lord’s hold on us all.
“She’s dreaming,” Marcel said suddenly, his head tilting as if listening to something beyond my perception. “I can feel it. She’s reaching for us in her sleep.”
I closed my eyes, focusing on the delicate thread that connected us across dimensions. And there she was, our Isabeau. Her essence more vibrant than it had been since our separation. The familiar warmth of her spirit brushed againstmine like a caress, sending a shudder of longing through my entire body.
“Marcel,” I whispered, suddenly afraid to hope. “Do you feel what she’s trying to do?”
My older brother nodded, his eyes wide with a mixture of wonder and fear. “She’s never done this before. Never reached this far, this deliberately.”
Bastien stirred between us, a faint whimper escaping him as the poison pulsed visibly beneath his skin. “What’s happening?” he managed, his words slurring more pronouncedly now.
I didn’t answer, too focused on the miracle unfolding through our bond. Isabeau’s consciousness, still dream-hazed but undeniably present, had homed in on Bastien. On his pain. On the foreign darkness destroying him from within. And she was...
“She’s pulling it out,” Marcel breathed, watching in astonishment as tendrils of black began to lift from Bastien’s wound. “Gods above, she’s drawing the poison through our bond.”
I couldn’t look away. The dark venom literally lifted from my brother’s ravaged flesh, defying gravity and everything I understood about our separate realms. It rose like reverse rain. Droplets of pure corruption pulled through some invisible siphon toward whatever part of Isabeau was reaching for us.
Bastien gasped, his back arching as the poison began to flow more freely. Not toward his heart as it had been, but outward, drawn by a power none of us had realized Isabeau possessed.
“It hurts,” he choked, claws digging into my arm. “Laurent, it fucking burns.”
“I know,” I soothed, though I didn’t know what he was experiencing. “But let it happen. She’s helping you. Let her help.”
The poison continued its impossible exodus, more and more of the black substance lifting from Bastien’s wound, from theinfected veins surrounding it, even from deeper tissues where it had burrowed toward vital organs. It hung suspended above him for a breathless moment, a cloud of pure malevolence, before streaming away over the cliff’s edge like some perverse waterfall.
Marcel and I exchanged stunned glances. We’d always known Isabeau was special, had sensed the magic in her blood from the moment she entered our forest. Our beasts knew her as our mate immediately, hence why Marcel claimed her upon her arrival, unable to fight the urge. But this? This was beyond anything we’d imagined. This was the power of a goddess, channeled through a mortal woman who probably had no idea what she was doing even as she did it.
“The Dark Lord,” I whispered, realization dawning like a cold sun. “He knew. That’s why he wanted her blood. That’s why he didn’t just kill her when he had the chance.”
