Elizabeth XI

Elizabeth touched her tongue to her suddenly dry lips. “I refused to give him access to your soul. I told him I would suicide first. He allowed his puppets to consume children and I carried out my threat. He was barely able to save me that time. Twice more he did things to others I couldn’t tolerate, and I suicided. After that, he only punished me. I knew you would survive if I died. I would be reborn with your half of our soul intact, but if he was able to take it from me, you could be made his servant, and he would have been able to corrupt or harm you in other ways. I couldn’t take the chance.”

She rushed the confession, ashamed that she couldn’t think of any other solution than to suicide when she had been told the ancient hunters in the monastery had endured for centuries and locked themselves away because they hadn’t believed in meeting the dawn and giving up on their lifemates. That was only showing him once again that she was a . .

“Do not.” Fero hissed the command at her in ob