Her Merciless Prince by Daniella Wright

Author:Daniella Wright [Wright, Daniella]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-02-02T18:00:00+00:00

The beast snores and whines, its back leg kicking. Eron growls softly.

“I know,” I say, wiping sweat from my forehead. “I’m working as fast I can! It’s not like there’s a plan to follow here… ouch!” I slip and drip some of the acid samples on my hand. It burns. I dress it with herbs.

Eron is near me, eyeing the wound.

“I’m fine. My herbs work fine on me, thank you.”

He suddenly looks pretty sheepish for a wolf.

“Oh, stop worrying about it. At least now we know that if you get injured again, you’ll probably die from your wounds.”

He cocks his head sideways and I give a quick laugh. “I’m messing with you. Now stop being cute and let me concentrate.”

He snorts air out his nose and turns back toward the beast. Pretty sure that was a laugh.

The beast grumbles. Again. It’s waking up.

I can’t figure it out, though. I can’t quite get the acid to stop secreting. I can smell the beast’s burning flesh from here. The alkaline solution was already moving out of its system, and the acid returning with a vengeance.

Focus.

Two more drops of calcium... no change in the acid. Like the acid mutated and changed to adapt against being stopped.

Like a blight upon the lands.

Dad used to tell me stories of diseases running rampant in olden days to cull civilizations down. To reduce the number of humans to one more manageable for the resources. Stories of insects destroying civilizations, unstoppable viruses, blights unlike any other...

I liked those stories. It placed us in the circle of life. Showed us as a cog in a greater machine, not the ones controlling the machine. That thought always comforted me, and still does.

Our world shows that we can survive under extreme circumstances, but maybe we aren’t meant to.

Maybe that’s why this beast is here.

Eron growls.

I can’t stop the acid. I can’t stop the acid, and I can’t contain a beast made of acid.

The choice is clear: burnt crops or a dead beast.

I stand, pick up my crossbow, take a step toward the beast. Eron doesn’t stop me, seems to understand. Of course, he does. Eron is a beast himself. He knows that nature isn’t about a perfect balance.

Sometimes, it’s kill or be killed.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper and let my bolt fly.

The beast is so used to pain that it doesn’t even cry out as it receives the killing blow.

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