Pregnant After One Night With The Lycan

Chapter 98

Pregnant After One Night With The Lycan By Kellie Brown

Chapter 98 Sacrifice

Queen’s POV:

I’ve been confined and restricted to my quarters for over a month now. No one has come to see me, nor have I asked to be seen. I remain in solitude accepting my fate, so long as my children are able to survive, I care little for my own existence. My children will carry on my legacy, they will live on. NôvelDrama.Org © content.

Despite my acceptance of it, this reality still haunts me. And I find myself turning to books as a method to overcome my sadness. At least Joseph allowed me that. He could have easily left me within four walls that are empty and barren. But he permitted my love for reading. I drown myself in the variety of genres I’ve collected over the years. Books about science, books on philosophy, bibliographies, and my favourite, fiction. But today is no day for reading, for as I sit beside my window, my hands are f*orc*ed to put down the pages in my hand. My room faces the main gate, and I watch the guards fluster and run about like madmen. Something is amiss.

Title of the document

Even the guards stationed by my door appear distracted, they mutter words I can’t hear to one another in subtle discomfort and tension. What on earth has happened? I wonder. Just then, I recognize the voice of my most capable and faithful maid yelling at them.

“What are you doing here? You know the situation is serious! You’re needed at the front gates!” I can imagine their flustered faces, their armour clatters against itself as they rush off to wherever needed. I smile, knowing how intelligent Penelope is.

I shift off the windowsill, and lift the hem of my gown as I hurry towards the door. I hear shuffling from behind before the little carved window slot on the top end of the door clicks open. It’s so small, I can only see her bright hazel eyes peering back at me.

“Tell me what’s happening!” I hastily whisper, knowing there is little time for formalities.

Without misstep Penelope tells me how Eric has been defeated by Marco. And while immediately I fear the death of my son, she a*s*sures me that Eric is alive and has formed some form of alliance with Marco. I appear confused, until she elaborates.

“Dorian is Joseph’s son.”

“What? He’s not my son.” H

“No. He isn’t… I’m sorry your majesty.”

It feels like a knife has just been wedged into my chest, and this invisible knife only embeds itself deeper as Penelope explains how Dorian captured Cathy and used sacrificial black magic on her to attempt to destroy the royal family. And whilst he’s dead now, Cathy is in a coma. And the only way to awake her is for one of her family members to voluntarily die instead of her.

My legs want to buckle beneath me, but what stops me from crumbling to the floor is placing my hand through the little rectangular peep hole. My maid understands my pain and she clasps her fingers with mine. “You must find a way to help me escape,” I grow desperate in my plea. “Even if it’s just for a moment. You must help me.”

Tanya’s POV:

Every day since we found about Cathy’s situation, I have been worried sick, especially when knowing the promise of survival is so close yet so far. Cathy feels just within our reach, her body lays waiting for

us, no longer imprisoned and taken by a monster. But her soul… it sits in a realm I can’t see, slowly voyaging onwards. And if we are not quick enough, we may miss it.

Most notably, when we learnt about Cathy’s dilemma, Eric’s expression still haunts me. I can’t imagine, nor want to imagine the guilt and torment he must be feeling. I can’t help the dark blob of anxiety that sits deep down within me, like a sign that something terrible is about to ensue.

It’s nearly midnight, and I still can’t find myself comfortable enough to fall asleep. As my chest continues to rise and fall with great effort, like something heavy is pressed against my b*reas*t. But I try to focus, try to count, try to do anything to bore my mind and allow it to rest.

Eventually, I feel my eyelids grow heavy, only for them to spring up as the bed jolts beneath me!

I turn round to see Marco sitting up in bed, his bare chest pumping at a rapid rate as excessive sweat covers every inch of his skin. I sit up, hold him gently at the arm, and he flinches despite my softness. “It’s me Marco. It’s Tanya.”

I whisper, knowing how waking up from a terrible dream can be difficult. Yet I still brush his arm in slow soothing motions, trying to bring his mind back from whatever horrid place it may have been. I plant soft kisses against his shoulder and arm, being patient for him to tell me what’s wrong.

“I don’t know why, but I just have a terrible feeling that something bad is going to happen,” he says, turning to look at me with a tense expression that feels so unnatural.

I nod. “Me too, I can’t fall asleep. I just have this horrible feeling in my gut.”

“I don’t know what it is…” Marco says. “But something is telling me to go back to the cave where Cathy is trapped. I’m drawn to it in my dream. Over and over again, and it’s like I never reach it in time… I think we need to go there, now.”

“Then we must go. We must trust your intuition, Marco. Let’s go.”

Without another word the two of us get dressed and shift into our forms, galloping hastily through the woods as wolves, weaving between the trees and blending in with the dark forest as we move with purpose. Finally, we approach the cave, shifting back and hurrying through its gaping entrance that’s eerie and laced with foreboding.

Upon entering it is Eric who is standing within the magical sacrificial circle beneath Cathy’s body. His clothes are drenched with sweat, his chest rising and falling so rapidly I can imagine his heart rocketing out his chest. I don’t think I’ve ever seen tears spill from Eric’s eyes, and I don’t think has Marco either, as my husband looks at his brother in absolute horror.

Eric is holding a knife to his throat. His hand is shaking as he holds the blade sideways to the flesh just beneath his chin, ready to slide it round. “Eric No!” I scream.

“It must be done. I did this. I did this to her. And now, this is the only way I can give back to her. To save her.” I can’t help but scream his name once again as Marco bolts in Eric’s direction. I can sense Marco’s terror as he rushes at his brother at full Lycan speed. But it appears to be too late as Eric moves his arms, closing his eyes in surrender to his fate.

But suddenly, someone else materializes from the shadows, snatching hold of Eric’s arm and twisting the blade out of his grip. The weapon suddenly clatters to the ground as a woman’s sobs can then be heard.

It’s the Queen…

The bags beneath her eyes and frazzled hair starkly contrast to her magnificent robes that she’s still dressed in. But she sobs and sobs, cheeks w*et and red with tears as she forcibly pulls Eric into her embrace, screaming almost as she breaks down and shakes.

“How could you?! We’ve nearly lost your sister and you thought taking your own life was the solution!”

“It’s the only way to save her,” he says with a stifled sob. “No! I will not accept that response from you. You are my child, my only boy. There is a way. Marco and Tanya will find another way.”

Despite the fact the Queen is technically meant to be on house arrest, I can’t deny how heart breaking the situation before me appears. I rest a hand on Marco’s arm, knowing he can’t deny that the Queen has prevented Eric from k*il*ling himself. As a family, they were already so torn, offering them an ounce of sympathy is the noble thing to do. And so, we leave them be.

The next couple days are immensely stressful and disorderly, as everyone searches for another way to save Cathy. Marco continues having terrible nightmares, he jolts awake in hot sweats, unable to breathe. There are times he wakes and whispers how his dreams torment him. How he feels obliged to sacrifice his own life for Cathy.

But I do my very best to soothe him, trying to coax him out of his despair and remind him that we still have time. That we’d eventually find a way to save Cathy. I of course hide my own anguish, for hours and hours I read through hundreds of books, flipping through pages as I scour the library for any information, hoping, praying, that there’d be another way.

But in the end, our efforts are futile. One afternoon, Marco enters our room with a solemn face, and I rush towards him in fearing the worst. “The Queen has died,” he whispers. My eyes grow wide. Together we rush to the cave, finding the Queen being held in the arms of Eric whose bloodshot eyes look upon her limp body in great sorrow. And as her blood trickles round the circle, the dark magic dissipates, and Cathy is saved.