of stew and a large piece of freshly made bread. My stomach growled, and suddenly I was ravenous. I sat up and reached for the food. “MacLean, I think you’re my favorite person right now.”
“I always was. You just forgot for a little while. But don’t worry, I forgive you.”
“Hey,” Teryl protested.
I waved the butter knife at Teryl. “You bring me fresh bread, and we’ll talk.”
He laughed and sat at the end of the bed while I ate. The food was simple, but amazing. The best meal I’d had in days. I actually felt like I hadn’t eaten in days, not less than twenty-four hours. Getting stabbed apparently does that to a person.
The doctor had said I’d need as much rest and sustenance as I could get to help speed up the healing process, so I emptied the bowl, enjoying the comfortably full feeling in my stomach. When I finished, Teryl took it from me, setting it aside.
MacLean sat on the other side of the bed. He offered me the roll of parchment. “I grabbed this for you. You should read it now.”
I stared at it. Resentment, anger, and fear rose to the surface. I didn’t want to take it. If it hadn’t been for that roll of paper, none of this might have happened. Bad luck. That’s all it was.
“You need to read it.” Teryl’s voice held compassion, which grated on my nerves.
I didn’t want compassion or pity. Couldn’t they see I needed sleep? Not some damn, ridiculous fate.
“Why should I? So far, it’s been nothing but trouble. What if it says ‘ask again later’ or ‘not this time’?”
Teryl frowned at my sarcasm. “It’s not a Magic Eight Ball. It’s your fate. It’s a gift.”
Angrily, I grabbed the roll. “A gift? Nothing about this damn thing has been a gift. This has been the worst week of my life.”
They didn’t say a word as I stared at them in challenge.
“Fine. You want me to read it?” I tore the small ribbon off and unrolled the stiff, heavy paper in small, jerky movements. It read: Elleodora Emmaline Warlow.
I cringed. My last name was Fredricks. I’ve never used Warlow. Never would, heir or not.
Fated for two, meant for one. You are the chosen. The one. Your birthright is great. The clouds will clear as your twenty-eighth birthday nears.
“Great,” I snorted. “It’s a child’s nursery rhyme.” A crappy one at that. Next, it would mention rainbows with pots of gold.
“Read the whole thing,” MacLean encouraged with a tinge of impatience. Teryl made a sound of agreement.
I rolled my eyes and regretted it instantly. Eye-rolling was not compatible with my concussion. When the dizziness passed, I resumed reading, although a little more slowly.
You will take your rightful place amidst the confusion. The souls will speak to you, and the lines will reform. Don’t lose sight of your path.
It was signed simply: Carys.
Wow. That was…pathetic. Unimaginative. And a huge letdown.
Without a word, I handed the parchment to Teryl, and the men read it together. I had flown across the world, lost my mate, and sustained multiple injuries from my childhood nightmare, all for a riddle? If I hadn’t been so pissed, I’d have laughed. Or maybe not.
Disappointment sat heavily on my shoulders. I had put it all on the line. A woman had died. All for eight miserable sentences of nonsense.
I didn’t know how I was supposed to react. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. Part of me did want to laugh hysterically. Most of all, I wanted to tug the covers over my head.
Exhaustion pulled at me, a bone deep weariness which I knew a good night’s sleep wouldn’t help. I settled back against the pillows and stared at my hands. I wanted to go home.
“Elle,” Teryl said. “Do you know what this means?”
“Yes. Carys should have turned her attention to writing bad children’s books. And she shouldn’t have quit her day job.”
I don’t know why I had believed my fate would tell me anything. Fated for two, meant for one. What a load of crap. Yeah, that had really cleared things up for me. Besides, how could I be fated for two men but really only meant for one?
“No.” MacLean leaned toward me and took my hand. “It means we know exactly why your father wants you to step in as his heir. And why he was stealing the souls.” I noticed he ignored the mention of who I was meant for.
“Let me see it again.” I reread it, but