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Misery could feel her head swimming. Her heart was going so quickly she was fairly certain it would simply give up soon. The old female could only stare at him in a staggering, frozen kind of terror. It seemed cruel kismet was not going to let the night end with a shrill female's voice crying out in the night. Misery knew Larskpur had been chosen, that was why she had saved him. The white female had felt the touch of Tak emanating off of the frightened boy and she had made up her mind. Anzu's fiery eyes had turned to her in quiet horror when she'd began to speak in the thick, guttural german. He hadn't understood at all, but he had felt the coldness of her tone. His fate had been sealed.
"Cut him down! Now! You heard me, don't stare you fools. I have been touched by Ankh and you will obey me. Cut him down. Take this male - he is tainted and he will serve as Tak's meal. I said now." Larkspur had been cut free and Anzu had been taken by the clamoring hands. Misery had stood before the mad eyes of the Khalif, her heartbeat racing and terror on her tongue. But they had obeyed. They had all known her in wicked darkness, and they knew Ankh had saved her. She had been made Alpha shortly after. But none of that had been relevant. She had simply pulled the trembling giant to her and whispered soft promises of salvation. He had embraced her and she had sealed his loyalty than and there. Larkspur became her most beloved son.
Misery had saved him because of the touch of destiny on him. But it seemed likely now that the touch of destiny might have been her own demise. That thought was chilling, and she trembled. Her wounded hand reached around for the switchblade but she had left it near the shadows. Her cane was near her bed and she knew sudden movements wouldn't end well. "Me en tak, Larkspur. But you are better than that. Don't let him control you." Misery had done everything to save him. Tak would always have claim over Larkspur's fate and soul, but she could hope - and it was a desperate, terrified hope - that she had claim over it as well. Misery did not dare speak the holy tongue - too afraid of strengthening the spirits hold, she fell into the common tongue.
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