None of this makes sense. I stare at him, waiting for an explanation that will render this nightmarecomprehensible.
“Her wolf is being erased,” he continues. “Slowly. Methodically. If it weren’t for the mate bond between you two, anchoring her, she’d already be completely under the necromancer’s control.”
My wolf keens. The thought of Selene gone, replaced by something hollow and dead—
“How do we stop it?” Lucian’s voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. “How do we kill this thing?”
“First, you find the necromancer.” Kieran stands and moves to the window. “Second, you destroy the undead.”
“What is the undead, though?” I demand. “You keep saying that word, but—”
“It’s exactly what it sounds like. A corpse, reanimated by dark magic, bound to serve the necromancer’s will. A puppet.” Kieran’s reflection in the glass is grim. “It walks, talks, appears alive. But it’s rotting from the inside out.”
My stomach turns. “And this thing is connected to Selene?”
“Through her wolf, yes. That’s why she can’t remember. Why she loses time.” He turns back to face us. “The undead feeds on her consciousness, her will, her sense of self. Eventually, there won’t be anything left of her to save.”
“No.” I say the word with absolute conviction. “That’s not happening.”
“Then, keep her close.” Kieran’s gaze locks onto mine. “Don’t leave her alone. Not for a second. The necromancer or the undead will try again. And next time, they might succeed.”
I’m already moving toward the door when Lucian’s voice stops me.
“Where is Selene now?”
“My quarters. With Astra and Daciana.”
Lucian goes rigid. “Astra is with her?”
The sudden shift in his energy makes my wolf bare its teeth. “A healer is there, too. Why—”
“No!” Kieran’s voice cracks the air like a whip. “Don’t let the Queen near Selene.”
Everything stops. The air in the room becomes thick, suffocating.
“What?” Lucian’s power erupts, filling the space with lethal intent. “Why?”
“Necromancers feed off unborn children.” Kieran’s words are clinical, but there’s urgency in his tone. “The life force of the fetus…It’s the purest form of energy. If this necromancer knows Queen Astra is pregnant—”
I don’t hear the rest.
I’m already running. The hallways blur past. My boots slam against stone, my wolf howling in my head, demanding I move faster. It’s weak, but the mate bond is still there, and I pour everything I have through it.
Hold on. Just hold on.
I round the corner to my quarters, and my blood turns to ice.
The door is open.
Not unlocked. Not ajar. Wide open.
The smell hits me before I get there.
Blood. Fresh blood. And a lot of it.
My wolf explodes forward, reacting to the clear presence of danger. I slam through the doorway, and the scene stops my heart.
Daciana lies crumpled on the floor, her throat torn open. A dark, spreading stain pools around her. Her sword is still in her hand, but her eyes are glassy, unfocused.
