Freya's POV For a moment, I was frozen. Which was ironic, in a way. I had always thought of Gertrude as cold and immobile, but now I was the one who couldn’t move. I saw why Gertrude made us run. And the reason only fueled my intense loathing for her even more. How dare she? And there I was, naively thinking it was her way to help me relax and stave off the gnawing uneasiness back in the cave. Now that I thought about it, I could see how stupid I sounded. "Get her some clothes, Tuin," she whispered to the lad that led us in. My eyes took in my surroundings. The room seemed to blur as I struggled to absorb all that I was seeing. It was like I had entered a strange still life in black and white, with males, females and pups arranged around the room like living corpses, waiting to die again, their faces thrown into stark contrast by the flash of a lightning bolt through the small windows. What was this place? She cleared her throat with a discreet cough, her gaze darting around
Freya's POV "I'm-I'm so confused. How are you here? " My whisper was harsh and hurried. "I tailed the rogues when they kidnapped you, my queen." I exhaled loudly, my hands running through my white t. "Explain everything to me right now. And be careful not to omit even the most ordinary or subtlest detail." "I will most definitely do this, your highness. But not at the expense of your safety. I need to get you someplace safe first." "How are you going to go about that?" My words were frenzied. "For now, I must–" "Luna?" Gertrude's voice, though faint and sounding faraway cut into my words. My sharp ears could already hear the crunch of small rocks under her feet from a distance. "Where are you? Freya?" Her voice was sounding louder. Oh no. Fuck, she was getting closer. I looked at Krayne, who was checking for possible ways for us to escape without her sighting us. I knew that there was no way. I sighed, hating that I was having to do this. I gathered enough saliva on my tong
Freya's POVI think I used the wrong word.She didn't come to me. "Come" was too gentle a word. Too elegant.She, more like, staggered into my thoughts, the vision of her as vivid as day, her eyes wide with agony, her body wracked with sobs and slick with sweat and tears. The pain from her was so intense, it consumed me even from the inside out. I could literally taste the stench of her suffering on my tongue.I really looked at her.She looked exactly like me. Her face was the perfect reflection of mine, her eyes the same shade of blue, her hair the same shade of white. It was as if I was staring at myself in my dressing mirror.She was my spitting image. I was told that we looked the same but I wasn't expecting us both to look like fucking clones of each other. This extraordinary coincidence filled me with a sense of unease. How could fate be so broken, to bestow upon Zane such a twisted blessing?At first, it was only her I saw. Then the vision broadened to reveal that she was laid
Freya's POVThe rogue, Darius had left us to our "bitchy devices". He didn't mind as long as it brought him more steps closer to ruining "the fucking pussy that called himself the Lycan King of Adivaine."Which happened to be my mate, in case you hadn't noticed.So we were here. We sat on the couch as I tried to reach Adalia again while Gertrude was proving herself really not useful since she seemed perfectly content in distracting me with questions that only served to upset me further."We could talk about it, you know?"I released a puff of white air from my nostrils. The air was bitterly chilly that morning and yet for some reason I felt warm. So warm that I did not wear any protective clothing to shield me from the cold despite how Gertrude nagged at me and almost forced me to put on layers upon layers of her own clothing. You know, the "consider the little one in you" talk.The unborn child had survived much worse. It had a resilience of its own. Even if the worst happened to me
Freya's POV I had an old power. An old power that even Gertrude, the killer of mothers and the layer of curses, or anyone else in the whole of Adivaine could only dream of having. The prophecy was the only way for me to access that power. Gertrude said this to me on the first day I fought against having the prophecy fulfilled by my own hands. "I can't identify what power it is that you have but I know that you know this, feel this." She said this with so much conviction I briefly wondered if we switched bodies sometime in the past without my knowledge. I sure did feel a lot of power. To sleep. Take that moment for example, I had yawned no less than a hundred times since I began trying to reach Adalia again. And by "since" I mean thirty minutes ago. Darius scoffed and watched me with narrowed eyes, his expression a battleground of annoyance and amusement. "You really do feel sleepy, don't you?" He asked. It seemed like a trick question so I didn't deign to answer it. I was much
Freya's POV "It was me. I was the one who cursed your mate, Zane." Adalia cursed Zane. Adalia cursed Zane. Adalia cursed Zane. Those three words kept singing a discordant tune in my brain but they couldn't make sense no matter how hard I tried to process it. If my brain was a meat grinder, this information would be stone. Adalia cursed…her mate. Adalia cursed. How? I tried to listen as Gertrude whistled softly in my head to remind me of the real world and to come back to reality. "What did you just say, Adalia?" I was on the verge of a panic attack, and I needed an explanation to save me. With utmost urgency. "I cursed him, Freya. That is why you are the only one who can unlock this curse." "This...it doesn't make any sense. Start from the very beginning." She smiled sadly and shook her head. "No, I can't do that. You will have to find that out by yourself. You will eventually, I assure you." "Why can't you do so?" Her usually serene demeanor abruptly shattered, her eyes
Freya's POVThere was something I found very annoying about people who talked too much. And it wasn't that they talked too much. It was that they were greedy. They weren't content in using their own time to drone on and on about something as trivial as the pair of shoes they picked that morning. No, they were much comfortable using others' time. The time they had was not as precious as others deemed theirs, so they made it a point to waste yours. Your time.What's worse death by hanging from a rope or death by being forced to sit and listen to the most ancient healer I had ever encountered in my life who only cared about the scary warts that were growing on her nose?
The answer wouldn't be as obvious as you think, trust me. If what the healer–whose name sounded like it was inspired by a toddler's gibberish–was talking about screamed how thoroughly unenjoyable this process was, her voice did way worse than scream: it grated my ears so badly it was painful.For the life of me, she was more like a witch than Gertrude.What process was this, you ask?They labeled it "The Extraction Ritual." And by "they" I mean both the archaic healer and the white-haired witch who held me prisoner.First, it was Gertrude who announced that I must do "The Extraction Ritual" while I was poring over the scroll which contained the prophecy –the only progress I was making was me feeling like I was brushing by, just merely scenting a breakthrough in my efforts, but not quite reaching the source of that scent.However, as soon as she blurted out that I needed to do the ritual, I promptly delivered a well-aimed, supernatural blast of wind that sent her flying face first into