Chapter 104

Arthur ran towards Osborn, snarling at him. Osborn didn’t seem worried, watching and waiting for him before moving at the last possible moment. He shifted into his human form so Arthur’s attack, just barely missed him before shifting back into his wolf form to snap his jaws at Arthur’s leg.

Arthur shifted mid-air and rolled across the ground. His heart was hammering. If he hadn’t, there was a good chance that Osborn would have taken his leg off or at least wounded him seriously.

Osborn was nothing like Owen. He had to be more careful. Osborn chuckled and turned towards him.

“Hello, nephew… shame your mother manage to get you out in time… I’m impressed you have a bit of battle awareness.” Osborn laughed, dark and furious. “Next time, I’ll just take your head.”

Arthur got to his feet, eyeing Osborn. They watched each other before he heard the duchess’ footsteps.

“His head is mine!”

In the moment that the duchess drew his attention, Osborn lunged at him. Arthur tried to leap aside, but he knew it was too late. At the least, Osborn was going to take a chunk of his shoulder.

“Arthur!” Nicole called, lifting her hand, casting a wave of light between them that repelled Osborn as the duchess’ blade came down hard and swift where Arthur had been a moment before.

“Back off!” Nicole hissed, meeting the duchess’ blade with her own. The duchess’ blade clanged and snapped. The end of it flew away from them as Nicole shoved her back. The woman gasped as she flew back and Nicole turned her blade on John. He went pale looking at her sword as she glared at them both.

“Y-You,” John stammered. “That’s impossible!”

The duchess stared up at her in horror, “You… Your eyes...”

Nicole glared down at them, lifting her sword and sending a soft healing spell at Arthur.

Arthur gasped and shuddered at the rush of warmth that went through him as his wounds closed.

“Focus on Osborn. I’ll deal with these two.”

Her eyes burned gold as the illusion faded, revealing her features completely. Arthur stared at her in shock. If he had any doubts about how closely related she was to Daphne, he didn’t have them now.

“Q-Queen Lily,” John gasped, “You’re a—"

“Scared, Whitcomb?” Nicole asked as the duchess got to her feet, hissing, and screeching.

“I don’t care if you were the queen reborn! Out of my way, Nicole!” She screeched, “I was promised his head!”

“Let me send you to the afterlife,” Nicole said, “I promise to send your husband soon after!”

The duchess screeched. Her usually beautiful face twisted with fury as she lunged at Nicole.

“You won’t stop me!” She screeched, slashing the rest of her sword through the air. Nicole blocked it as John ran forward. She kicked him in the chest and met the duchess’ attack, tumbling them both down the hill.

Arthur turned back to look at Osborn who huffed, “And what did you do to make such friends with General Steward?”

He cackled, “You’re more like your father than I thought!”

The mention of Dean infuriated him. He had no right to bring him up. Arthur growled and rushed at him. Osborn side-stepped him easily. The movement sent a spike of apprehension through him. He hadn’t even noticed that Osborn had moved until he was tumbling after missing.

“Kill the girl,” Osborn growled. Arthur shuddered at the sound of his command and watched two werewolves nearby rush off towards where Daphne was.

“Daphne!”

Osborn jumped in front of him and tackled him before he could break away. Arthur cursed, barely dodging the snap of his jaws though Osborn managed to scratch him across the shoulder.

He caught a glimpse of Owen with Daphne as he went down.

The two wolves rushed towards Owen and he stiffened. The two were old friends of Osborn’s who had also lost their mates during the war. Traitors to the werewolf kingdom and wrapped up in Osborn’s power and promises of vengeance.

They were also a bit stronger than Owen was at the moment.

Owen growled, “Back off!”

They stopped at his command, but he felt their resistance. He knew that the power of the Royal Family waned the father away someone was from the mainline, age, and battle prowess. As Dean’s nephew, he would have had a bit less power than his father but not less than Arthur because of their age. With his missing limb and the fact that Arthur had beaten him, he’d lost a bit more power.

The fact that he’d been able to stop them in their tracks was either a miracle or the result of his determination to keep Daphne safe.

Daphne watched the two stumble and waver as Osborn and Arthur jumped back into their fight.

“Daphne,” Owen said, “I can hold them off for a while, but you need to know that he has to be killed.”

“Who?”

“My father, Osborn.”

Daphne choked at the words, “He’s your father?”

Owen growled at the two as they started to inch forward and growl at him.

“He’s lost his mind. He doesn’t care about beating the werewolves. He’s not looking to help anyone. He wants everyone to die. You, Arthur, the vampires… everyone.”

Daphne looked over at the two wolves who were watching them, still not retreating as if they were held in place between Osborn and Owen’s commands. They moved a bit closer and she felt something inside her pulsing, urging her to do something.

She could almost see Owen’s command over them breaking

“He wants revenge for my mother’s death,” Owen said, “But he blames everyone. It won’t stop with this fight, Daphne. It won’t stop with Arthur or even Nicole.”

Daphne could almost see the fires blazing across the lands. The forests going up in smoke and people screaming. The forest floor would be drenched in the blood of vampires and werewolves alike.

One of them growled and broke free of Owen’s command.

“Stop!” Daphne yelled. The air shook and Owen looked at her with wide eyes. The wolf whined and twisted, but he stopped and retreated. The other didn’t even move.

How had she done that? Was that vampire magic or something else?

Owen chuckled, “You really are--”

Daphne gasped, looking up as Osborn turned and looked at them. He barked an order. Arthur reared up behind him before he was cut off by a group of turned werewolves. Osborn’s eye narrowed and he growled before starting to run towards them. Owen stiffened and Daphne’s heart raced.

The sight of him barreling towards her shoved her mind back into a hazy memory. Another wolf had charged at her. In her mind’s eyes, its jaws were open and its teeth glinted with the intent to kill her.

Again, a name was at the tip of her tongue. Wanting to break out like a cry for help, but she didn’t know what the name was.

Who did she want to call? Were they nearby? Would they save her?

“Kill her!” Osborn thundered.

The wolves snapped free of Daphne’s command and rushed towards them.

Owen darted in front of her, “Run, Daphne! I’ll be right behind you!”

Daphne began to backpedal away. She lost her footing and tumbled down the slope. Her sword slipped from her hand as she crashed to the ground. She looked up as Owen tore through one of the werewolves and threw them aside.

“Turn back, Owen!”

Daphne gasped at the terrible power that filled Osborn’s voice as it cut through the air. Owen cried out and stumbled. He shifted back to his human form with another cry as Osborn reached him. Daphne’s heart clenched in terror.

“Owen!”

“Traitor!” Osborn snarled.

“No!” Daphne cried as Owen choked and jerked. Osborn’s hand ripped through his chest. Her eyes burned.

She couldn't breathe.

“That half-breed was more important than my love to you?” Osborn sneered in Owen’s face.

Owen shuddered as the pain began to dissipate into a vague numbness. He thought of Daphne and tried to gather some strength to hold Osborn in place, but his strength failed him. He looked up into his father’s glinting red eyes and wondered what his mother would think of him now.

“… crazy…mother… hate you…”

Osborn ripped his hand out of Owen’s chest. His body crumpled at the edge of the small hill and rolled down to Daphne. She hurried to him, panting in panic and hoping that she could do something for him.

She called magic to her hands, trying to focus on healing his wounds and not the mounting terror.

Osborn’s burning red eyes turned to look down at her as Owen’s blood dripped from his hand. He gave her a sold smirk and licked some of the blood from his hand with a little hum of pleasure.

Her stomach turned violently and she gagged at the sight.

Owen was right. He’d lost his mind.

He sneered, “No need to mourn, Your Majesty. You’re next.”