Cursed Lycan's Scarred Mate
Chapter 65: Setting priorities straight [2]

Chapter 65: Setting priorities straight [2]

Lady Morgana’s sharp tongue earned a dark scowl from Ronan; however, he had to deliver credit where it was due. The Coven Leader was quite formidable in her own way and reliable in various criminal activities if required.

"Find Avery at all costs," Ronan voiced an absolute command, irrespective of the fact that he was merely a comrade and guest accommodated at Sabre Coven. "Alive, if possible. By the end of the week."

Lady Morgana ceased her rhythmic tapping on the table, her sharp nails digging into the wood while she squinted at Ronan.

Unfortunately for her, standing toe to toe with a Lycan Alpha never ended well or in her favour.

"You should depart soon from Sabre Coven," Lady Morgana advised, returning to her rhythmic tapping, which made Ronan’s brow twitch, unfond of the noisy habit. "I will have my Wickans report to you."

"What of the temporary solution to Vivian’s curse?" Ronan pondered, searching Lady Morgan’s eyes for any sensible reason as to why she would suggest departing from her Sabre Coven. "That would defeat the purpose for which I’ve come."

Lady Morgana leaned forward. While she herself was still sceptical of Vivian’s background and agendas, she reckoned her decision, which might seem unreasonable, was actually out of the best interests of Vivian.

The she-wolf was better off staying clear of every dark corner and backwater location that only laid her vulnerable to Estwood Coven’s reach.

"In the North, your mate will be safe," Lady Morgana justified. "I am still communicating with sister covens to reach aid me in the temporary solution to our pretty wolf’s curse. If I must journey north with them, then so be it."

"Vivian is safe wherever I am," Ronan insisted, his voice rough with refusal. "We will stay."

"Do not be reckless, Ronan," Lady Morgana warned, mindful of her tone growing too sharp, lest she speak without a lid on her mouth and instigate another argument with the brute Lycan. "Remaining here, even under my protection, is no better than laying Vivian bare as bait to Estwood Wickans. Furthermore, regardless of the ill relations your mate shares with Estwood, I will not cripple my relationship with Alaric for her sake."

As much as Ronan wanted to lunge at the opportunity to argue, there was no sense in fighting against Lady Morgana’s rationality.

Irrespective of what enmity he bore towards Estwood, it would be irrational of him to involve Lady Morgana and sabotage her relations with Estwood Coven.

It irked his pride to no end, but the old, cranky witch was right.

"I will leave for the North in two days then," Ronan promptly agreed, swallowing his pride. "I do not wish to travel yet as Vivian needs time to rest and recover."

"As you wish." Lady Morgana reached the same agreement. "For now, Vivian can take advantage of our herbal bath remedies for pain and burn relief."

Speaking of Vivian, the she-wolf was preoccupied entertaining Soran’s ramblings. Apparently, the Wickan believed she would benefit from his expert spellcraft abilities.

"Let’s not beat around the bush, now shall we, Miss Moonborn?" Soran spoke with a condescending undertone, his lips curled into a cynical smirk. "If you share your knowledge of the Old World with me, I will teach you how to harness the dark magic cast upon your body."

Vivian stared at him wide-eyed, fidgeting with her emerald amulet. What could a Wickan ranked lower than a coven master possibly do to counteract her curse?

Didn’t Lady Morgana express that the curse could be altered, which meant Vivian would be forever changed, but there was no surefire way to harness the dark magic of her curse or nullify it?¹

Even if there was a way per Soran’s untrustworthy claims, why didn’t he disclose it sooner?

"I don’t trust you," Vivian answered bluntly, refusing to engage whatever outrageous ideas he might propose to her. "You have a strange aura about you, and your words sound more spiteful than friendly."

It was Soran’s turn to react with surprise, although it was subtle. Vivian was apparently more observant than he bothered to give her credit for.

Still as hostile as usual.

Hence, he decided to try a gentler approach.

"I simply wish to help you, Miss Moonborn," Soran spoke in a softer, less deceitful tone. "Is that so difficult to believe, hmm? I’m merely concerned for a damsel’s well-being. It would be unbecoming of me if I didn’t offer her escape and peace, especially since it’s in my ability to do so."

Realising she possessed little power at her disposal in the moment, Vivian decided to humour his claims, which clearly held malicious motives.

However, as for her knowledge of the Old World, she was unwilling to expose the source of her information to him.

"First, teach me how to harness the dark magic of the curse," Vivian proposed, crossing her arms defensively. "Demonstrate what you can do; then only will I believe you."

"Very well," Soran said, chuckling mirthlessly. He stepped closer, indicating he wished to pass through the door.

Hesitant, Vivian allowed him to have his way and followed after him.

She very well knew Ronan would reprimand her for indulging Soran’s suspicious activities; however, if there was even the slightest of possibilities she could cling onto life without the impending doom of her death, she would snatch the opportunity without hesitation.

Following Soran, Vivian found herself in an unusually desolate room. It was dark, somewhat dimly lit due to the flickering lanterns hung up near the musty old windows where slight draughts breezed through.

The floorboards creaked under the heel of her boots as she warily glanced around, sighting shelves crammed with jars of strange ingredients, their labels faded or peeling.

Vivian covered her mouth with her hand, simultaneously pinching her nose closed because the air was thick with the tang of dried herbs, the earthy scent of spilt potions, and an underlayer of charred flesh.

Just, what the hell happened in this room? Was that animal or human flesh?

Dust lingered in the air, settling on every surface it could find.

"What is this place?" Vivian asked, her tone nasal because of pinching her nose closed. "Why does it smell so awful?"

"An old ritual room," Soran stated, pivoting on his heels to face her when he suddenly stopped. "This is where we will begin your path to freedom from the darkness binding you to its chaos."