Vanished Sisters: The Lycan King's Slave Island Chapter 154

Natasha's POV

"No, she's unaware—that is—"

"You think I'm a fool? Choose your next words carefully." The warning emerged as a low growl. "Recall what I said about dishonesty?"

A sob broke from my lips. "Please, my lord. Don't summon Davelina. I'm begging you. Do anything you wish to me, but leave my sister alone. She only tried to protect me. Every action she took was to ensure my safety."

"Your sister faces no punishment from me."

Relief crashed over me with such force I nearly crumpled. "Thank you, my lord," I breathed, gratitude thick in my voice. "Thank you."

He turned away, returning to position himself behind his desk. When he spoke again, some of the hardness had left his tone.

"Your deception notwithstanding, Mordred draws breath today because of you. You preserved his life. I've been contemplating it, attempting to comprehend how his transformation occurred. The sole rational explanation is the mate bond. Your connection to him somehow catalyzed his return to human form."

He faced me once more, expression inscrutable.

"You restored him to me. In exchange, I'll spare your life despite what you've done."

I gaped at him, my mind struggling to process the words. My jaw went slack with disbelief.

"I... I'm at a loss for words. Thank you, my lord. Truly, thank you."

"Reserve your gratitude." He lifted an ornate cup from his desk, examining it with apparent distraction. "Understand this clearly. What I'm offering is merely a temporary stay of execution. I won't champion your cause or petition the court on your behalf. I'll simply act as though tonight's conversation never occurred. Provided no one at court uncovers your secret, I'll look the other way." He replaced the cup with a decisive clink and met my gaze directly. "The instant your deception comes to light, however, our arrangement ends."

I dropped my eyes to the floor, grasping the fragility of my situation.

"Regarding your status as the King's fated mate..." Fergus hesitated, selecting his words with care. "My initial impulse was to maintain maximum distance between you and Mordred. You're human, he's Lycan. Our people will never embrace you. Should he attempt to force their acceptance, it would place him in tremendous jeopardy. Sebastian would exploit it as grounds to move against the King, to foment insurrection."

I forced down the obstruction in my throat. I'd never entertained fantasies of acceptance. But the prospect of separation from Mordred made me want to retch.

"That said," Fergus continued, "were I to enforce that separation—to tear you from him after your soul has already acknowledged its mate—your soul would begin deteriorating. Ultimately, when it could endure no more, you would perish. He's a powerful Lycan King, so he'll suffer no ill effects. But you? Death would be inevitable."

He frowned, cocking his head pensively. "I may harbor no fondness for your kind, but I won't sentence you to such a fate. Therefore you may remain here on Ashclaw. However, beginning immediately, I'll supply you with scent suppressants. Is that understood?"

I despised it. Every aspect of it. But what alternative existed?

Moisture gathered in my eyes, but I forced it back and gave a nod.

"That represents the extent of my involvement in this affair," Fergus said. "I won't actively meddle or attempt to keep you separated—no one possesses the power to interfere with fate. I've no idea what game she's orchestrating at present, but I suppose we'll all discover it in time, won't we?"

I caught my lower lip between my teeth, fighting to stay quiet.

"On your feet."

I hauled myself upright, quickly swiping at the tears that had escaped.

"Fate's a merciless bastard, Natasha," he said, weariness coloring his voice. "I'm more acquainted with that truth than most. As for your sex, you can expose it or maintain your current existence. The decision rests with you." His fingers drummed against the armrest. "My counsel? Continue as you are. It resolves all your difficulties. Simply ensure you avoid detection, and keep your distance from Mordred."

He paused, then added with apparent reluctance, "Although... there exists another possibility."

I glanced up, hope sparking despite my better judgment.

"I could arrange your transfer to the mountain settlements," Fergus said slowly. "Remote communities where your face is unknown. You could live openly as a woman there, serve in a household."

My breath caught.

"You could experience your Feral Heat cycles with other males in those settlements. Who can say? Perhaps you'd encounter someone compatible. He wouldn't be your soul mate, true, but should a bond form following the ritual, you'd gain a new existence. Once a new bond establishes itself, your soul won't wither."

"You'd have a mate who cherishes you, offspring, a place to belong. A genuine home."

"Your absence would go unnoticed, uncared for. Should you consent, I'll make the arrangements. Consider it thoroughly, and inform me of your decision once you've reached it." He settled back in his chair, his gaze resting on me briefly. "Think of it as my parting gift to you."

---

Later that night, I lay motionless in bed, crushed beneath the weight of impossible decisions.

The tears had finally ceased, leaving only a hollow ache that saturated every fiber of my being.

My attention drifted to the small vial of scent suppressant resting on the table beside my bed. Fergus had provided a generous quantity.

His parting words replayed in my mind like a melancholy refrain.

A life unburdened by fear. Free from deception. No longer glancing over my shoulder, anticipating the moment my secret would surface.

Existing as a woman, liberated from slavery's shackles, without terror of exposure or vengeance. An uncomplicated, tranquil existence removed from the citadel's brutality. It seemed like a fantasy made real.

Except that fantasy excluded Davelina.

Existence without my sister held no value. The mere thought of permanent separation stole the air from my lungs.

Fresh moisture welled in my already puffy, exhausted eyes.

Why must my life be so impossibly tangled? What path should I choose?

Three options lay before me, each more unthinkable than the last.

I could remain on Ashclaw, continuing as Nathan, consuming the suppressants, gradually hollowing out inside while separated from my mate. Secure, but empty.

I could relocate to the mountains, live authentically as a woman, potentially form a new bond and construct a new life. Liberated, but isolated, without Davelina.

Or I could return to Howling Citadel, reveal myself to Mordred, and almost certainly die—whether from his rejection or the court's fury over my deception.

None offered what I truly desired.

I wanted Mordred. I wanted my sister. I wanted to exist as myself without terror.

But apparently, claiming all three was impossible.

I shifted onto my side, drawing the threadbare blanket to my chin, and fixed my gaze on the wall.

Whichever path I chose, I would forfeit something irreplaceable.

And I possessed no power to alter that reality.