Page 110 of Lake of Sorrow

One warrior swung his axe downward like a logger, but it missed the beast, lodging in muddy ground instead. Before he could pull it free, claws sank into his hamstring below his chainmail tunic. Another Kar’ruk rushed to help him, but, after gouging muscle from his foe, the beast shoved the wounded warrior into the paths of the others, delaying them while he sprinted out of their view.

A part of Kaylina was glad the Kar’ruk were suffering by having their own tactics used against them. A part of her worried that, with this advantage, the beast would be victorious, as he had been in the plant’s vision. Then he would turn on her.

She twisted her wrists, desperate now to loosen the bonds, and looked around for anything that might help. If only the Kar’ruk hadn’t moved her away from the altered plants. Now and then, one of the warriors stomped through the undergrowth as they rushed about, battling the beast, but she couldn’t touch any of the foliage.

Did she need to? Kaylina glanced toward her brand, wishing she knew what she’d done when she’d communicated with the pine tree and the plants. As far as she could recall, she’d only willed her thoughts at them.

Can you help me escape? Kaylina asked silently, focusing on the plants she’d knelt on before. Not with a vision. Maybe with a knife. She snorted at herself. As if the undergrowth had a knife. Maybe some of your berries could be smooshed against my ropes to loosen them, she suggested instead.

A Kar’ruk went flying, landing among the plants. The leaves rippled, as if displeased, but they didn’t respond to Kaylina in any way she could understand.

Only when she looked up did she realize that the Kar’ruk had been the last warrior standing. Using their invisibility powder against them, the beast had been victorious. The bodies of the dead littered the valley, their tents smashed, their magical powder destroyed.

Heavy breathing came from the air near the undergrowth. Heavy breathing and soft snarls that chilled Kaylina.

The beast stepped past the downed Kar’ruk, drawing close enough for her to see. He was staring straight at her with no recognition in his eyes. Blood dripped from numerous axe wounds, but his muscles rippled under his short fur, and he emanated power.

Kaylina tensed. The vision had proven true. He would kill her now.

An uncertain roar came from the forest at the entrance of the valley. Was that a taybarri? Crenoch?

Of course, Vlerion would have been mounted on his taybarri until he turned. But Crenoch might be too afraid to charge in as long as his rider was in this form.

With his blue eyes devoid of humanity, the beast stalked toward Kaylina.

Terrified and trapped against the stump, she couldn’t do anything but meet that animalistic gaze. Mouth dry, she hummed the song he’d shared with her, trying to remember some of the lyrics, those detailing the sorrow of the lake as humanity, with its common enemy defeated, turned on each other.

Eyes slitted, the beast looked her up and down. He stopped close enough to touch her, close enough to kill her.

A clawed hand—paw—reached toward her. Kaylina winced, turning her face away, but made herself sing the snatches of lyrics she remembered. If only she had more of a talent for music. Maybe it would have worked.

A single cold claw traced her cheek to her jaw. It didn’t draw blood. It didn’t even hurt.

“My… female,” the beast rasped.

“Yes,” she croaked. Might the plant have been wrong? Maybe Vlerion wouldn’t kill her. Maybe he would?—

The claw trailed down the side of her neck, to her breast, and she shivered, realizing he might not tear her to pieces, but he could kill her all the same. The scars on his mother’s neck came to mind, evidence of the beast’s touch, left when Vlerion’s father had claimed her. And Isla had said that some women chosen by the various beasts of the Havartaft line hadn’t survived.

“My mate.” The beast snarled, gripped her shoulder, and looked back at the dead Kar’ruk. His lips rippled in defiance, showing fangs instead of blunt human teeth.

“Yes,” Kaylina said again. Remembering the spymaster’s question, asking if she could, with her anrokk power, control the beast somehow, she whispered. “Will you free me?”

He leaned closer, inhaled her scent, and licked her throat. With his trousers in shreds, she could see that he was aroused, that he wanted her.

“Vlerion,” she whispered, trembling. Afraid. “I command you to free me.”

He snarled, the grip on her shoulder tightening, and his gaze jerked to her face. Irritated. Defiant. And possessive.

No, ordering him around wasn’t a good idea.

“Please,” she tried in a far more conciliatory tone. “I won’t go anywhere if you free me. I’m your female, okay? Your mate.” She preferred that term, one that didn’t imply that he owned her.

“My mate,” he rasped in that inhuman voice.

His paw lowered from her shoulder to cup her breast through her shirt. Another tremble went through her, though she wasn’t positive that desire didn’t mingle with the fear, raising the question of what it would be like… if she survived.

But she shook her head. With the memory of the plant’s vision filling her mind, she doubted she would survive the beast’s ministrations. The great power in that body could be unleashed by lust as much as rage.

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