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)
“And what about matehood for you? You’ve craved it more than anyone I know. Now that you are wed, you’ll be expected to give up the search for your mate. Though it’s an Accession.” Could Arctos’s fated one still stumble into his life? Yes. But unlikely. Moving outside of one’s day-to-day sphere brought the best chances.
“An Accession may yet shift the stars.” Arctos’s voice dropped. “Once I show Emilia a bear’s life, her day walking will embolden her just enough to flee me. When she crosses the border into Craigdúr, those wolves will tear her apart. If not them, then the witches. So it’s only a matter of time, cousin, until I’m a widower.”
“And if she doesn’t run?”
Arctos’s lips drew back from his teeth. “Then she’ll be even more fun to break.”
“I see. So all is not gloom.” Torben had no concern for the princess who’d engineered this situation in the first place. But he blamed Yrsa most. “Why do you think our queen did this to you?” he asked.
For centuries, she’d ruled with wisdom and strength, but in the last few decades, her behavior had made little sense. Torben couldn’t shake the feeling that the future boded ill for Berserkers—and that she knew it. Still, he’d shared his suspicions with no one. Not even Arctos. Not even Dagny.
“Why does any monarch weaken a second-in-command?” Arctos said absently. “Perhaps I haven’t shown enough allegiance.”
“Nonsense, cousin.” Arctos had demonstrated utter loyalty to the queen. “She must fear how others look up to you.” Many Berserkers, tantalizingly close to ohalla themselves, whispered of a stalwart new rule under Shieldchief Arctos. “They support you for a reason.”
“Change the topic. We tread near sedition, and you know it.”
The cavern seemed to lean closer, listening.
Torben clenched his jaw, then said, “I’d hoped you would earn immortality tonight. It eats at me how close you are.”
“There was scant valor to harvest. Enfeebled leeches scurried at the sight of us, like creeping things beneath a lifted stone. Only a handful of guards had warrior spines, and Inkletter allowed me every kill.”
Arctos’s Berserkerage would have leveled the field between him and immortal vampires. “You could have hunted deeper. Yrsa was right: the barracks—”
“The princess was there for the taking, and I had orders.”
How had he kept himself from going Berserk and slaughtering them all? To linger so close to immortality…
Arctos stared into the fire. “I’m glad that you’ve earned ohalla at least. Our line will continue in more than one way.”
Torben was now immune to illness and would regenerate from every injury except a beheading. “Yes, but I earned it by chance!” he said, glancing around with caution.
Last year, he’d taken over a friend’s guard shift at the maze’s mouth on the very night a pack of wendigos had somehow reached Ravinelun’s outskirts. Most suspected the Valkyries had delivered them as a prank—or an ohalla blessing. After all, undead creatures didn’t simply escape from the Helter. A river of fire encircled that land.
Torben continued, “Yrsa could unleash warriors like you into the Helter or the Badlands, and ohalla would flow like mead. She’s protected us all our lives. Why forsake us now?”
“It’s not for the two of us to question our ruler. She must have a reason.”
The reason? As an immortal, her shieldchief would be nearly as powerful as she was.
Seeing Arctos would speak no more about the subject, Torben said, “Did you scent other Berserkers in the castle?” Rumors said vampires bred their kind as blood bags, yet Yrsa forbade an investigation.
“I couldn’t scent anything. Incense seared my nose until my senses reeled. But I will find out from my new captive.”
“Your wife. She’s a full member of the clan, remember?” Torben raked his fingers through his hair. “By Wóden, this can’t stand.”
“Now you want to revolt against our laws?” Arctos’s laugh was low and bitter. “The vampire outplayed us. It’s done.” He glanced toward the sleeping chamber again, the third time since they’d begun speaking.
Suspicion flared. Was Arctos secretly relieved to possess any spouse? Torben asked, “Is there nothing attractive about her?”
Arctos laughed low. “Are you jesting? Emilia Vlădescu is a parasite of such weakness, she defies belief. Do you remember my mother’s last words? Before she led vampires away from me, she told me she would live on if I did—if my line did. Do you think she meant through a vampire’s womb?” His grip tightened around the cup until it buckled in surrender. “And even if I wanted a spoiled princess like Emilia, she looks at me with horror. None I saw in the castle tonight bore scars. Not even the guards. Emilia fainted when she gazed upon mine.”
“So Yrsa paired a pampered royal with a scarred warrior in a match doomed on both sides.” Why? The queen could have chosen any number of charming Berserkers for the vampire. “Another slight to punish you for your popularity? Or is our ruler felling trees to prepare for a fire?”