Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 112500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 563(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 563(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
“No, my queen.”
“She dresses like us and trains like us. Yet as I watched her earlier amid the clan, she clearly doesn’t fit in.”
“I had the opposite impression,” he said honestly.
Did she look different from Berserker women? Yes. Emilia was slighter, her skin pale as new snow, her movements hesitant—as if she expected rebuke with every breath. She gave those small, uncertain smiles that she might just as quickly reclaim. At least at first.
“Others welcomed her tonight,” he added.
Yrsa’s eyes glinted like bermetal catching firelight. “Mustn’t they? Else risk offending the great shield who has taken her under his wing.”
He inclined his head. “By your decree, my queen.”
“I’ve been thinking about that, dear Arctos.” She drank her vodka. “Perhaps I was hasty. I believe I might have…wronged you.”
He stilled. In all the years he’d known her, he’d never once heard the queen hint at regret.
“She isn’t one of us,” Yrsa continued. “And she never will be. She belongs with her own people. Her own family.”
He met her gaze squarely. “Despite what they’ll do to her?”
“The machinations of vampires aren’t our concern.”
“You don’t fear them creating day-walking soldiers?”
Her laughter came soft and low, more dangerous than mockery. “I have no fears about Bloodreach at all.”
Something in her tone froze the air between them. “Then will you allow me to retrieve our people?”
“I’ll consider it. In the spring.”
He parted his lips to argue, but she lifted a hand, elegant and absolute.
“Arctos, you must think further ahead,” she said, her smoke-smooth voice threading through the chamber. “Think like one who has lived for millennia. How would we feed a hundred newcomers through a brutal winter? Those Berserkers have never hunted, would starve at our table. Our law is simple: all must pull their weight. But in spring, with abundance, I could relax that rule. You could train them properly.” She leaned back and sighed. “A few months is nothing. Patience would serve us better than hunger.”
Her logic was flawless—practical, even merciful on its surface. He should have felt reassured. Instead, unease crawled up his spine. She was lying to him; he could feel it, as surely as he could feel the shift in the air before a storm.
When he hesitated to respond, she added, “The Fey fear a catastrophic All-Battle nears with this Accession. I don’t share their concerns, but should we not limit our risk for a few months, just in case?”
Yet more logic. He had no argument. Only that unease. At length, he said, “I believe you’re following your head, my queen.”
“Ha! With that settled,” Yrsa said, her tone brightening, “let us return to the subject of your marriage.”
His heart gave a hard, defensive thud.
“I give you leave to annul it,” she said. “Your patience with Emilia has been noted. Berserker females will welcome your suit. You could father a cub of your own to grow up alongside Torben and Dagny’s.”
He had noticed the lingering looks. The veiled invitations.
The thought of filling his long table with laughter and the small, fierce energy of children struck him like an old wound reopening. For a heartbeat, he allowed himself to imagine it—the warmth, the belonging—and then confusion swept in. The ache in his chest deepened until he could hardly draw breath.
“Even your nymph friend would suit you better,” Yrsa said lightly. “When I made my decree, I didn’t consider the insult to you, but a vampire wife is an insult.”
He’d thought the same.
“Your queen apologizes and thanks you for your continued loyalty. We can announce this tonight.”
Send Emilia back to Coștin? Prey gifted to the predator?
Sensing his hesitation, she said, “You don’t believe Emilia wishes to remain wed to you, do you?”
No. He was not the vampire scholar of her dreams. But he believed she now understood the benefits of staying with him. “There are other considerations. Her brother is as evil as you can imagine. He believes she is his Bride, has abused her for years. I won’t send her back to that.”
“She told you this?”
“She confided it, yes. I only share it with you so that you fully understand the situation.”
In a low tone, Yrsa said, “Maybe she is his Bride. Maybe they do things differently there. Are we to judge them for matters of the heart?”
Yes. Yes, we are. Arctos struggled to find his mental footing with her.
“If she is indeed Prince Coștin’s mate, then she has shirked her fated and royal duty,” Yrsa continued. “Which no Berserker would do. Yet more evidence she doesn’t belong here.”
Was he hearing Yrsa correctly? On the tip of his tongue: Are you jesting?
“In any case, I know you wish to continue the life you led before Emilia, so I am freeing you from her.”
He’d wanted this so much!
Yet things were different now, weren’t they? Emilia wasn’t what he himself had dreamed of, but hadn’t she earned his loyalty? Above all the sounds in the raucous banquet, he heard her sweet laughter, could imagine her eyes shimmering in the candlelight.