Ruler [Blood Magic, Book 3]

Chapter 32: Denial is a Place Underground

I awoke to my gut turning itself inside out, a hundred million grasping claws trying to make my insides my outsides. I groped at my stomach, feeling for the bullet wound. Had something gone wrong with the spell? Had my stomach opened itself back up again? I shoved my hands up under my dress and they came back clean and dry. What was happening? The invisible chainsaw tore through my mid-section again, and a choked cry slipped through my lips. I fumbled in the sheets for the little red pager. Where had I left the damned thing? On my second frantic dive through the bedding, I caught sight of it near the pillow. I scooped it up, pressing the button at the same time.

I closed my eyes, pager still clenched in my hand. Please hurry, I thought, please.

If the bond was supposed to save me, why wasn't it calling out to Keel? Why was I alone?

The door to the royal chambers swung open, but the pain radiating out from my centre had turned my muscles to stone so I couldn't even crane my head to see who had come to my rescue.

"Mildred, what happened? Are you okay?" It was Arthos. His vampire speed put him at my side in milliseconds.

"Help." The word little more than a whisper.

Arthos' gaze drifted down to where my hands were clutching my stomach as if all my innards were in danger of falling out, which is exactly what it felt like.

"I think I should get His Majesty," he said.

I shook my head. Keel was the last person I wanted to see right now. I was still a long from making peace with what he and my father had done, and the fact that it was now attempting to tear me apart piece by piece wasn't helping.

"No, you help me."

Arthos looked at me, then the door, his face awash with uncertainly.

"Arthos, please," I begged.

He raised his wrist, unbuttoned the sleeve of his shirt and tactical jacket and slid it up his elbow. Then he bit into his forearm and offered it to me. The dusky but unexpectedly aromatic scent of his blood turned the pain in my gut into a focused, hungry force. "No," I said, realizing what he expected of me. "No."

"I can get the king if that would make this easier."

I shook my head again, harder. A migraine detonated a series of blastbeats between my temples. No, Keel wouldn't make anything easy.

I shoved my face into my pillow, attempting to block out the scent of Arthos' blood, but it crept in anyway, and my stomach roared and turned two more vicious somersaults before settling back into a grumbling ache.

"Mildred, you have to eat. The discomfort will only grow worse if you don't."

"Nooooo." It came out as a long drawn-out moan into the pillow.

"That's enough now." Arthos' words became stern, but I detected no anger or impatience in them, simply a switch in tactics. "They didn't save you and risk a war just so you could starve yourself to death." Arthos tugged at my shoulder, encouraging me to turn and face my new reality and find a way to embrace it.

"They shouldn't have saved me at all."

"Is that what you would have done if His Majesty had been shot?"

I thought of the way the bond had compelled me down from the surveillance room the day Keel had been ambushed. It was an ample enough reminder that these weren't necessarily the king's heroics, they were informed by our unique connection, which would have demanded he do everything possible to save my life - and his.