Page 39 of The Stolen Bride

With the vow hanging in the air, he stalked off.

I bit my lip. Here I was, alone, mere feet away from the field of death. If turul-shifters returned, I’d be a sitting duck.

I laughed without humor. Of course, I was already dead, wasn’t I?

Chapter

Ten

Lights, Camera, Berserker! Surviving Movie Night

–HOW TO TRAIN YOUR BERSERKER

By Elizabeth “Elle” Darcy-Bruce

The short winter day passed with no visit from the berserkers or the turul-shifters. No food or water, either, though I’d been able to drag a discarded fur over by using my feet. The original wearer no longer needed it.

Despite being forced to remain in a sitting position, hugging a tree trunk, I kept my wits honed. Even as the acrid smell of death worsened and flies and scavengers descended, feasting upon the carnage. Thankfully, I was ignored in favor of the seemingly never-ending buffet.

No matter what, I—refused—to—cry. Deep down, in a hidden part of me, I maintained hope, expecting Viktor to overcome the poison, spank his men for daring to endanger the life he’d nearly died protecting, then rush to my rescue. A prospect as wondrous as it was frustrating. I didn’t likeneeding another person for anything, especially considering a good number of weapons waited only a short distance away, there for the taking.

But dang it, if I had to choose between Viktor’s survival and a trip home, give me King Vik. Forget overdue bills and constant internal tension. Return my grumpy, surly berserker. The guy wasn’t terrible. On the contrary. He’d saved my life at the risk of his own. And he gave good cuddle. The best. But also, he’d willingly placed himself and his best soldiers in danger to save my sister. From the beginning, I hadn’t had to fight for calm; it was just there. Because of him. I’d gotten to (mostly) relax and be myself, and he’d seemed to like me anyway.

If my reoccurring dream was a prediction, as I’d begun to suspect, hewouldsurvive.

Hope spread, and I clung to it with every bit of my strength.Please be a prediction. I just had to get to him. I was the guy’s firebrand, after all. An important position. Themostimportant. Surely there was something I could do to save him. What was a lethal toxin compared to a determined woman?

Okay, so, I might have sniffled. But sniffling wasn’t crying! And, yes, my chin trembled. But no tears streaked down my cheeks. Not more than one. Possibly a couple dozen. Already cracked bottles vibrated.

I racked my brain for any tidbits about healing I might’ve read in my study of berserkers. Any story my mom may have told me that I’d forgotten. But answers never came, and hopelessness attempted to murder the hope.

A hoarse, broken roar pierced the air, and I jolted. Viktor! He still lived! An answering whimper rose from deep within me. “Keep fighting, Vik,” I shouted. He could overcome this. He would! He must. In fact, any moment,someone would remember some obscure cure and release victory cheers.

Awful, terrible silence stretched, and my shoulders rolled in.

When night fell, great darkness cloaked the land. Birds erupted into songs better suited for a horror movie soundtrack. The temperature dropped, the chill drilling into my bones. My teeth chattered. I shifted, using the tree to my advantage, blocking a gust of wind scented with death. Bending my head, I rested my brow against bark. The jagged edges cut into my skin, but I didn’t care.

Come on, Viktor. Pull through before it’s too late.

Morning arrived with muted rays of light filtering through the canopy of bare tree limbs overhead. I was just about to shout and beg for an update when twigs snapped, signaling the approach of someone—or something. I braced, ready to kick as if my life depended on it. And it just might.

Bodi broke through a wall of branches, his expression grim.

“No!” I bellowed, violently shaking my head. “You didn’t. You wouldn’t.”

“No, not yet,” the warrior grated, unleashing great tides of relief inside me. The prince freed me from my prison, but not my cuffs. He jerked me to my feet, and my knees nearly buckled.

Somehow, I remained upright despite a barrage of aches and pangs as he dragged me through the woods. “What happened?” Did Viktor wake up and demand my presence? Had the prince changed his mind about ending my life? I bit my tongue. Or was I soon to die?

Up ahead, a turul-shifter landed on a branch andsquawked, startling me. “Prince Bodi,” he called. “Deco’s offer is still good.”

Bodi stiffened, still saying nothing. We passed the shifter without incident.

“Let’s kill him while we’ve got the chance,” I encouraged, looking over my shoulder, but our foe was already gone. Dang it. The more shifters we eliminated, the less danger that surrounded Viktor. “What offer did Deco make you?”

“That’s not your concern. Viktor is. He hasn’t been the best king for centuries. He threatens us daily, erupts often, and tends to choose punishment over mercy. But his people remain loyal because we remember the ruler he used to be–who he was becoming again with your arrival.”

Pain, fury and resolve drenched his words.

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