Mendeve: Descendants

Chapter 18

Belle squinted as she tried to open her eyes. Ryan was by her side in a chair. Eyes closed, head bent, and arms crossed his chest.

She flinched at the sudden sting of pain she felt as she tried to sit up. She got up slowly and ignored the sting.

Once she was upright, she studied her surroundings, noting that they were in a large tent.

How had they even get there?

She tried to remember but a splitting headache interrupted any memory she tried to surface. The last thing she remembered was the sharp pain from being stabbed. The blood that she felt blossoming through her shirt. Then Ryan reassuring her before closing her eyes to sleep.

She looked down to see herself still in the same dress. It was caked with dried blood, definitely all hers.

Someone had really tried to kill her.

The thought terrified Belle. Things were already getting serious way too fast. Belle didn't know if she could keep up anymore.

Accept it.

Belle frowned as she looked for anyone nearby. There was only Ryan, but he was sleeping soundly.

Where did she hear that from? The voice sounded so familiar. Belle couldn't place it, but she knew she heard that somewhere before.

Her headache threatened to get worse as she thought hard. But she gave up, wanting the persistent headache to stop.

Belle swung both of her legs to the side of the cot. Her legs felt numb. She stilled her legs until the pinpricks ceased. She wiggled her toes to test her feet.

Other than the headache, Belle felt fine. Nothing felt out of the ordinary. Even her back felt as if nothing had ever pierced it.

But as she stood up, Belle felt the heaviness of her body. The air was stolen from her lungs as her vision started getting dotted with growing black spots.

Oh no. She was about to faint.

Before she reached the ground, strong arms caught her. She blinked furiously to see who it was, but knew once he spoke.

"Steady now. You lost a lot of blood, you can't just go traipsing around whenever you'd like. Let your body heal itself first." Ryan scolded.

The dark spots finally cleared. She was now gazing into silver flecked violet eyes. Belle had to hold back a sigh.

Gods she needed to get a grip on herself.

"What are you, my mother? I can handle myself, thank you very much." She said.

Ryan raised a thick brow. A gesture Sam was more known for than anyone else.

"Really? Well, sorry. So, I guess you won't mind if I dro-"

"Don't you dare." Belle warned.

Mischief twinkled in his eyes. It took all of Belle's remaining strength to still her hand from reaching out to tuck a loose strand of his hair.

Someone cleared their throat, catching Belle and Ezryan's attention.

A stout man stood in the tent. His frame was well-muscled, reminding her of Uncle Richard as they looked about the same age. The beard with a touch of gray made the man look older than Uncle Richard though. His hair was neatly trimmed and combed back.

He was dressed in fine, gold armor that gleamed without sunlight. The Sythel crest decorated his chest plate.

But it wasn't the armor, or the hair, or the impassive look on the intimidating man's face, that caught Belle's attention. No siree.