Bloodbound [Werewolf]

Chapter Nineteen

The sound of metal rasping against whetstone echoed uncannily throughout the entire den as I continued to hone my knife. I had been doing so for the past few days in an attempt to keep myself busy and my thoughts away from Conan, but doing so was far easier said than done. It'd been roughly two weeks since the lashing, and not a single word about Conan's well-being was whispered along the corridors. With the way no one spoke of his health or condition, it almost seemed like he'd ceased to exist. Even among the group, we'd given up on prodding, knowing full well that his state was in the hands of Cienna. It was making me so anxious and agitated to the point that I could no longer sleep at night or eat my meals properly.

The group had been restless as well. Christina was the one who'd offered me a knife to hone when hers was done. It was a little strange to see her so composed yet so furious. I'd never seen her keep her composure this much when I knew she wanted Cienna dead.

"I know you're worrying about Conan, but he's a tough one. He'll be back before we know it," I remember her saying when she handed me the dull blade. Honestly, that was the only thing I could hold on to at that time — her words were my saving grace amidst the countless doubts that were swirling inside my head. And so, I honed and honed and honed to the point where the blade finally snapped into two; a perfect representation of my patience.

"I cannot stand this," I spoke, standing up and letting go of the broken blade. "I'm going to find him."

"You shouldn't," Christina almost immediately replied, looking up from the pile of scattered parchments on the dining table; her face calm but voice tight with resolve. "Cienna doesn't allow anyone near his recovery room other than the palace's doctor. We already tried to sneak in, remember?"

"Then what should we do? Should we just wait here and wait for a miracle?" I snapped back.

With a straight face, she replied, "Yes."

I didn't know what to do then or how to act or what to say — I was annoyed, worried, angry and yet I couldn't do anything other than growl in frustration before deciding to walk out and release my resentment elsewhere. I never believed in miracles, not when all I have been given were curses upon curses.

Who knew a miracle could really happen at that time? I certainly didn't.

Because I didn't expect the den's main door to open, nor to see Conan standing there with a soft smile.

"What..." I breathed, my eyes wide. I was afraid if I blinked then he'd be gone like a mirage.

"I'm back," he replied gently, a grin slowly growing at my shock.

I didn't know what took over me when my feet rushed towards him, arms wide open to embrace him as my body collided with his. He staggered back on impact, regaining his balance with a light wince and that's when I remembered that he just got back from recovering.

I backed away but was pulled into his arms once more by him; feeling his arms snaking around my waist as he nuzzled his nose to the crook of my neck. I stood stiff, unsure of what to do, but quickly melted in his embrace as my eyes started to wet.

"You had me worried," I whispered into his shoulder.

He hummed, letting the faint smell of lavender and peppermint assure me that he was really there — that he wasn't just a figment of my imagination. "I know. I'm sorry I had to make you wait for so long. Your she-devil sister wouldn't let me out. She's almost as stubborn as you — almost."

With a scoff, I lightly punched his chest, swallowing back the sobs of relief from the tension I hadn't fully realized was plaguing me the past few days. "You shouldn't have taken the punishment in my stead. I could've handled it."