Page 9 of The Stolen Bride

I spooned in a bite. Yep. Chicken and rice with a hardy cheese sauce. “How so?”

“Does it really matter?” He offered me a parody of a smile. “I’m keeping you.”

Chapter

Three

Get Your Sneak On: More Stealth Equals Fewer Screams

–HOW TO TRAIN YOUR BERSERKER

By Elizabeth “Elle” Darcy-Bruce

“Excuse me? You’re keeping me?” I dropped my utensils. “For how long is this so-called keeping supposed to last? A day? Two? And why?” I threw the queries at Viktor, beyond flabbergasted, bordering on discombobulated.

He disregarded my words, because of course he did. Muttering to himself once again, or maybe to the mysterious whisperer he could no longer hear, he pulled a backpack from behind the trunk of a tree and packed up the camp, stuffing a compass, tinderbox, hatchet, sharpening stone and lantern inside. “When the Valkara calls, I come.”

That explained nothing! I pressed my hands over my churning belly. “Is she your woman or something?”

“That is my hope, yes.”

So he planned to keep me, but he was into her. Typicalguy. “Go, have fun. Don’t let your nonexistent door hit you on the way out. I’ll be just fine. No worries. Okay, bye.”

He snuffed out the fire, chanting, “Find, destroy, happy. Find, destroy, happy.”

Ugh. Not this garbage. “As far as mantras go, I’ve heard better.” The sun began its descent, light fading. I didn’t know when, exactly, darkness would arrive, but it wouldn’t stop me from launching an escape.

Obviously, teaming up was a nonstarter. I wouldn’t be aiding either Malachi or Viktor, no matter what prizes they offered. At the right moment, I’d jet. The condition of my feet no longer mattered. Nor did his beast’s reaction. Both kings could get bent.

With Viktor preoccupied, I stood slowly, quietly, and backed up. Now might be the perfect opportunity to go. The king never even glanced my way. So, I did it. I spun and ran, dashing around trees. I would find a place to hide. Oh! At the top of a sturdy oak I could wait him out. Maybe he’d already forgotten I existed.

There! That one! The upper branches possessed enough foliage to cover me while notches in the trunk offered anchors for my hands and feet. Pumping my arms faster, I glanced over my shoulder. Sweet goldendoodle! No sign of Viktor. This was better than I’d hoped.

With the finesse of a child, I scaled the tree, yanking myself over different branches. My muscles strained and burned, and bark scraped my skin. A host of stinging cuts registered.

A twig snapped below as I hurled myself across an upper branch and laid as flat as possible while maintaining a firm grip on my anchor. Though I went still as a statue, my heart continued to pound.

Through the thick shield of dewy green leaves, Iwatched as three strangers entered the area. They varied in height, but each man bearing a similar muscle mass to my (former) captor. They’d also opted to forgo shirts, revealing tattooed torsos. Instead of leather pants, they sported loincloths. And, um, wow. Massive wings covered in black feathers tipped with gold arched over each of their shoulders.

I licked my lips. Those wings appeared rooted to their bodies by bony joints. And if berserkers were real, it made sense that turul-shifters were real, too.

Was I about to meet he who should not be mentioned? Viktor’s loved-hated enemy, Mr. Deco himself.

The middle warrior sniffed the air and grinned, unveiling a mouthful of too long, too sharp teeth. He smoothed back the strands of his yellow hair, his eyes glinting with a thousand shades of red. “She’s nearby, and she’s been with Viktor.” Like the very king he referenced, he spoke Hungarian.

So. They searched for me. Foreboding arched along my nerve endings, and there was no bottling it. I felt as if porcupine quills pressed beneath the surface of my skin, desperate to break free. Some innate instinct told me these guys weren’t interested in having a productive conversation.

Maybe I should have stuck with Viktor.

“Is she his firebrand?” another asked. “Or does the honor belong to the other?”

The firebrand thing roused my interest, but the mention of “the other” piqued my curiosity. Did Viktor have a second prisoner tucked away somewhere? If so, that person might be my ticket home. The much-desired partner to help me navigate this treacherous land.

“Doesn’t matter which is which, since they are bothours,” the blond replied, and the other two snickered. “Come out, come out, wherever you are, pretty girl,” he called. “We’re here to aid you. Save you from the big, bad feral.”

Hardly! I sensed their malevolence on a cellular level.

I stiffened as a bead of sweat or blood trickled down my temple…my cheek…and hung from my jaw. A single thought consumed me.Don’t fall, don’t fall.

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