I hold it to my lips as I cough and cough for several minutes, and soon the cloth is soaked with blood.
Mother Linnea gives me a fresh cloth. “First, I need you to understand that you’re not in trouble. I’m going to ask you some personal questions, and they may seem strange or prying, but Iwant to make sure you get the right treatment. Don’t speak. Just nod or shake your head.”
I nod, showing her I understand.
“Thank you, Zenevieve. Have you been intimate with an Alpha while he was in a rut?”
She’s already seen the dragine marks on my shoulder. I nod.
“For how many of his ruts?”
I hold up one finger. I cough into the cloth again, and I’m frightened by how much blood spills from my lips.
Mother Linnea purses her lips. “I will not judge you, Zenevieve, but I must know the truth so I can treat you. How many of his ruts have you spent together?”
I insistently hold up one finger as I cough.
She sits back with a frown. “That is strange. Your symptoms indicate that you are suffering from lavish sickness, but that’s not possible if you only spent one rut with him.”
My eyes fill with tears. It’s not lavish sickness. If I had been Stesha’s lavish, then maybe all this pain would be worth it. We were only together for a few hours, which is far less time than a Beta needs to spend with an Alpha before she gets lavish sickness. Cariss was adored for many months before Dandro broke her heart.
I cough harder than ever into the cloth and point at the cup of medicine that Mother Linnea is holding, aching for some relief.
She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Zenevieve, but I fear this is lavish sickness, and so I can’t give you any medicine. If you don’t cough, your lungs will fill with blood, and you will suffocate and die.”
My lungs keep spasming and my throat burns. Is there really nothing that can stop this agony?
Mother Linnea is silent for some time, sunk in thought, and then her eyes light with suspicion. “Zenevieve, may I pleaseknow the name of the Alpha in question? No, don’t say his name. I think I can guess.”
19
Stesha
Ispend the whole night on the dragongrounds on my knees in the snow, contemplating my sword.
Unforgivable.
That’s what I am. I should fall on my blade, but I can’t decide what would hurt Zenevieve more, hearing that I am dead, or seeing my face again. There’s always a sense of unreality during a rut. It alters your mind and makes you think and do crazy things as time slips past at unpredictable speeds. The avalanche, the time spent with Zenevieve on the mountains, and then my idiotic surprise when she spoke about us being mated is all tangled up together. Zenevieve’s scent is all over me. Her blissfully happy, aroused, luscious scent.
The freezing cold bites into my brain, cooling my rut and making me realize what I’ve done. I hurt the woman I swore two oaths to protect. I ripped out her heart. There has never been a more craven Alpha than me.
Just after dawn, someone approaches me across the dusty expanse of the dragongrounds. It’s Sundra, and she asks, “Is Zenevieve feeling better, dragonmaster?”
“Better?” I ask in confusion. I raise my eyes and see that Sundra is standing over me.
“I carried her to the Flame Temple yesterday. I thought you knew she’d fallen ill.”
I get to my feet, sheathing my blade, and set off at a run. Ill, or worse? I should have considered that she’s in so much pain she could hurt herself. Gods, what if she swallowed poison?
I arrive at the temple door, breathing hard, but before I can enter someone within calls out, “The dragonmaster is not permitted to enter the Flame Temple.”
To my shock, a pair of castle guards step in front of me, crossing their weapons in my face and barring my way. Outrage flares through me as I see that Mother Linnea is the one who gave the order, and she’s approaching me with her hands in her sleeves and a stony expression on her face.
“Is Zenevieve here?” I demand, looking past the guards at Mother Linnea.
“She is. Do not do that, dragonmaster,” she adds quickly, seeing that I’m about to shove through the guards and turn the place upside down in search of my former ward. “TheHratha’lenhave a sacred right to defend this place and those within. Entrance here is a privilege, not a right, and your privilege has been revoked.”
“What has happened to Zenevieve?”
