The door opened and Ginger entered with a tray of food. She bowed to Lazarus and placed the table on a small table next to the bed. As soon as she left, Emma asked, "What interests do you share with Maeve?"
Lazarus frowned as he snapped his gaze to her face. He sipped his wine and scoffed, "Why do you want to know? Leave her out."
Emma took the food tray and took a healthy serving of broth. "Why should I leave her out of this? I should know everything about my competitor." Emma had thought a lot about whether she should talk to him about being his mate, but she decided not to. If she succeeded in her game, he would confess it to her himself.
"Maeve and I like to rule. We are both made to rule people. She loves to have intelligent arguments about kingdoms and politics. And like you she likes to talk to others."
"Oh please!" Emma retorted, glaring at him. "I have barely seen her speaking with people around. She is nothing like me and never would be. She is so disrespectful and full of herself."
He chuckled. "It seems I have touched your nerve."
"Do not compare that snooty goddess with me!"
"Yes, I shouldn't. You are—"
"Kindly save those words Lord Lorza!" she spat, giving him a nickname she didn't realize. "I know what you will say. That I am inferior to her and blah blah."
Lazarus's lips curved in a half smile. Lorza was better than lazy. "Maeve and I are going to have lots of children together. We are going to rule Wilyra together."
"They won't be her children!" she shot back, irritated. "They will be my children, which you both are going to enjoy. She would practically be their stepmother. But—" she calmed herself. "I wonder what the two of you are going to teach my children. Killing and politics and kingdom?" She flicked her hair after she had retorted. "But wait— there would be nothing of the sort to teach. Because you would have already fulfilled it by then."
He narrowed his eyes at her. "If you think you are going to sow dissent between Maeve and me, that last try was… weak."
She lifted the bowl and started having broth. Some of it escaped her mouth and ran down her chin. His finger shot towards her chin and he wiped it from there and took that finger in his mouth.
As if not noticing what he did, she said, "This wasn't a try to sow dissent between you and her. These are my serious observations." Then she murmured, "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree!"
His brows bunched up. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing!" she continued to have the broth. She wanted to say that he was like his mother who cheated on her husband, but perhaps this was not the time.
Lazarus shifted the tray towards him and began eating from it. Once they were done, she said, "I want to sleep. This mortal needs some privacy." She wanted him to go.
"I can't," he turned to look at her. "You will sleep with me and in my room from now onwards."
"But—"
Before she could say another thing, he grabbed her and traced her to his bed. She closed her eyes and felt like yelling at him. Instead, she pulled a pillow and a fur and covered herself till her head. "Don't touch me when I am sleeping," she warned him.
Lazarus watched her with gritted teeth. He was hoping that she would pleasure him but she went to sleep. He tugged the fur, covered himself and pulled her to his chest. These days he was sleeping when she was. And the only reason was that he slept better.
However, coldness gripped him soon and his nightmares returned. He was the eight-year-old self, and was kneeling in the blood forest that was now covered with snow everywhere. The trunks of the trees were red as they sucked blood from those who were buried beneath them. He hated that place. "Mother!" he shouted. "Where are you?" He got up to run to find his mother. He had somehow jumped over the walls of the palace to come here. "Mother!" he shouted, coming to a halt. His breath was turning to mist. A sob wrecked his body. They had buried his mother alive somewhere here.
She had committed no crime, except to save him. The king had whipped her again and before sending her here, he had snatched her necklace. His mother had cried and screamed in pain when the necklace was snatched from her. It came out with her skin and flesh. The necklace was an integral part of her being.
She had said that it gave her the power and was infused with magic. It was so powerful that people of the Lore were after it forever. Adara planned on giving the necklace to him when he ascended the throne.
"Motherrrr!" he cried again. Little Lazarus hated this forest. Cold wind gushed through it, tousling his hair. No one knew where she was buried. He sank his knees on the snow and cried, calling for her, trying to find a lead, trying to find her body so that he could dig her out.
All at once he heard a noise. freewebnovel.c om
"Lazarus!" Someone shook his shoulders. "Lazarus!"
He jerked open his eyes. He had broken into cold sweat. It was dim in front of him. Slowly when the vision cleared, he saw Emma. His hand went to her cheek. She was so soft and warm. So far removed from the torture he had seen. He curled his fingers behind her neck and pulled her to his chest. She lay there, her hands wrapped around his chest. As they lay together on his bed, his mental agony began to fade.
"You should stay away from all that…" he murmured, stroking her hair softly. "Always…" He had to protect his mate from everyone and every danger. "So close… so close…" His arms tightened around her in a protective hold. He pulled her over his body and soon went off to sleep. This time it was free from nightmares.
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