Princess's Revenge: Slave to the Soulbound King Chapter 62

Adelaide

The rescue tent reeked of bitter herbs and suppressed groans of pain. I knelt beside a wounded werewolf, carefully peeling away blood-soaked bandages from claw marks that refused to heal properly. The black spots spreading from the infected wounds resembled some malevolent constellation mapped across pale flesh.

"Easy now," I murmured, applying a fresh poultice of silverleaf and moonwort. "This should help draw out the poison."

The werewolf—a middle-aged woman with graying hair—managed a weak smile. "Thank you, human healer. Your hands are gentler than most of our own."

I pressed my lips together, focusing on rewrapping the wounds with clean linen. Since requesting transfer to the medical area, I'd thrown myself into this work with desperate intensity. Here, surrounded by suffering that demanded all my attention, I could almost forget the sound of Lycanthar's voice growing rough with desire for another woman.

*Almost.*

The tent flap burst open with such force that I nearly dropped my supplies. A small werewolf boy, perhaps seven or eight years old, stumbled inside with tears streaming down his dirt-stained cheeks. His wolf-like ears lay flat against his head in distress.

"Please!" He rushed to me, small fingers clutching at my sleeve with desperate strength. "You're the human medicine woman, aren't you? My mother—she's hurt bad! The black monsters bit her and she can't move and—" His words tumbled over each other in panic.

I set down my herb pouch and knelt to meet his eyes. "Slow down, little one. Where is your mother?"

"In the woods, by the old oak grove. She went to gather berries this morning before the barriers were up, and when she didn't come back, I went looking..." His voice cracked. "She's just lying there, and her skin has those dark marks like the others!"

My heart clenched at his anguish. The oak grove lay well beyond the camp's protective perimeter, where the Hungry Ones swarmed thickest after dark. Going out there would be suicide.

Yet the boy's tear-filled eyes made refusal impossible.

"Wait here," I told him gently, then stepped outside to scan the camp.

Fortune smiled on me—I spotted Vespera making his rounds near the eastern barriers, his green commander's cloak unmistakable even in the afternoon shadows. His werewolf guards flanked him as he inspected the magical wards that kept the beetles at bay.

"Commander Vespera!" I called, hurrying toward him.

He turned at my voice, his expression immediately shifting to concern. "Adelaide? What's wrong?"

"There's a woman trapped in the woods—a mother. She's been infected and can't move. I know it's dangerous, but if you could provide magical protection..."

Vespera's brow furrowed as he considered the risks. Around us, the constant background hum of insects grew louder as evening approached. "The oak grove?"

"Yes. I understand if you can't—"

"Get your medical supplies," he said firmly. "I'll shield us."

Relief flooded through me. "Thank you."

Within minutes, we set out with the boy leading the way. At the camp's edge, Vespera raised his hands and spoke an incantation in the old tongue. Green light erupted around us, forming a shimmering dome of protective energy.

The moment we crossed beyond the barriers, the change was immediate and terrifying. Black beetles the size of rats emerged from every crack in the earth, their carapaces gleaming with that unnatural blue sheen. They hissed and clicked their mandibles at our magical shield, but couldn't penetrate the protection.

"Stay close," Vespera warned, his voice tense with concentration.

The boy led us deeper into the corrupted forest, where dead trees twisted into grotesque shapes and the air tasted of decay. Every step forward felt like walking through a nightmare landscape.

We found her in a small clearing where the canopy opened to reveal the darkening sky. The woman lay curled on her side beneath a massive oak, her breathing shallow and labored. The black veins of infection had spread from several bite marks on her arms and legs, creating dark webs beneath her skin.

I dropped to my knees beside her, quickly checking her pulse and examining the wounds. "She's alive, but the toxin is spreading fast."

From my pack, I pulled out my strongest antiseptic salves and fever-reducing potions. The woman stirred as I cleaned her wounds, her eyes fluttering open.

"My son..." she whispered.

"I'm here, Mother!" The boy clutched her hand.

"You'll both be fine," I assured her, though privately I worried about moving her in this condition. "Let me treat these bites first."

As I worked, applying the medicinal paste to her infected wounds, my foot caught on something that gave way with a soft *pop*. I glanced down to see I'd stepped on what looked like a translucent water bladder, no bigger than a chicken egg.

A sweet, cloying fragrance immediately began to permeate the air—thick and almost edible in its intensity. The scent was hauntingly familiar, triggering some half-remembered association I couldn't quite place.

"What's that smell?" Vespera asked, his voice sharp with alarm.

Before I could answer, the very air around us seemed to vibrate with sudden movement. The beetles that had been maintaining a respectful distance from our shield suddenly went mad, their antennae twitching frantically as they surged toward us in a writhing black tide.

"Something's wrong," Vespera gasped, sweat beading on his forehead as he struggled to maintain the protective barrier. "They've never attacked this aggressively before."

The sheer weight of insects piling against our shield made it flicker and pulse ominously. I could see the strain in Vespera's face as he poured more magic into maintaining our protection.

"Commander, you should return to camp for reinforcements," I said, helping the injured woman sit up. "I'll stay with them."

"Absolutely not!" Vespera's refusal was immediate and fierce. "The moment this barrier drops, you'll be devoured in seconds."

He tilted his head back and released a powerful howl that echoed through the forest—a werewolf's call for aid. But even as the sound faded, we all knew the awful truth: we were too far from camp, and his voice might not carry far enough to reach help in time.

The beetles continued their relentless assault, layer upon layer of them forming an ever-thickening shell around our diminishing sanctuary. Vespera's barrier grew dimmer with each passing moment, his magic slowly being overwhelmed by the sheer fury of the swarm.

I clutched my medicine bag tighter and looked at the frightened boy clinging to his mother. Whatever that strange perfume had been, we'd stumbled into a trap more deadly than any of us had imagined.

The shield flickered again, and in that brief moment of weakness, I caught a glimpse of countless hungry eyes and clicking mandibles pressed against the fading magical light, waiting for their chance to feed.