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)
“A logical vampire? It’s been ages since I’ve seen that attribute in your kind, though you used to be hailed for it.” Yrsa would know; she’d been born before the Exile. “Will the vampires come for you?”
“No. They feared your incursion, and this male beside me appears to have wiped out most of the kingdom’s swordsmen.”
Arctos said, “You can’t convince me you have so few.”
“No one trains. It’s mocked. But…”
“But what?” he grated.
“My brother has some skill with a sword, and he might try to come after me with the few guards left or with mercenaries.”
“Attack the bears in their den? Is he crazed?”
“Yes. He is. My father does evil acts because he believes only royal vampires have worth. Prince Coștin does evil acts because hurting people brings him happiness. He is a fiend who enjoys torture.”
The queen gazed on with narrowed eyes. “And your mother? Will she not burn down the Skein to get her daughter back?”
“I’m no beloved child to her. Her devotion is to blood, not to me.”
Yrsa said, “Still, even mistreated offspring cling to their family. Yet you have no loyalty to yours? Any thoughts for the guards my shieldchief felled?”
“They weren’t guarding me. They were trapping me. Like a bear, I wanted no cage.”
Yrsa leaned forward on her throne, the torches lighting new interest in her eyes. “Perhaps training will make a Berserker of you yet.”
Had Yrsa lost her own mind? Unmated immortals did risk madness as they aged. What else could explain the strange bent this conversation had taken? Discarding a hundred reasonable objections, he settled on common sense: “How are we meant to feed a vampire, my queen?”
Yrsa asked her, “Do you drink from others? Your eyes are clear, which means you haven’t drunk a victim to death, but perhaps your bloodlust is still developing.”
“I eat solely food. I’ve never had a sip of blood, have never had the urge to bite, nor felt fangache, the throbbing in the canines that accompanies thirst. Maybe it’s another power of mine.”
“Food, is it? Well, clearly not enough. Or of training. You must adopt a Berserker regimen quickly before you freeze weak and frail forever.”
The vampire glanced down at her own frame as if seeing it for the first time. She gave a small frown.
Yes, leech, you are objectionable in every way.
The queen continued, “I predict you only have a few months before you become fully immortal.”
“I believe so as well. My queen,” Emilia added with another look his way.
“You might not know this, but I have the right to choose spouses for Berserkers. And you are now a marriageable clan member. I’d like to see you wed.”
Audible swallow from the vampire. Her shaking intensified.
Who would Yrsa burden with such a millstone? Someone disfavored. Someone she wanted to shame eternally—
“Arctos will wed you,” Yrsa decreed.
Gasps.
Rage flared at the blistering insult; the vampire looked like she might faint. How clever is your plan now, leech?
He struggled to curb his tongue. The queen must expect a backlash from him. Her phalanx of queen’s guards certainly did. Around her throne, their bodies tightened like bowstrings.
Arctos’s own hand itched to draw his weapon, but he forced himself to say in a measured tone, “What offense earns me this, my queen? Beyond a life of absolute service.”
She flippantly waved away his words, spurring his rage even more. “You’ve wanted a wife and family. Here’s your chance.”
Family? Vampire children begotten on a leech? He had to choke back bile. His line—his parents’ line—to continue with this creature? If you live on, we live on.
“I hereby decree you wed. It is done.”
Murmurs rose from the crowd. More than a few would want him to use his notable talent—instant Berserkerage—to challenge the queen. If he could defeat the first channeler, he could take the throne and earn immortality, dispatching others to do the same.
No.
He forced a breath through his teeth, recalling the care Yrsa had given him and Torben as boys. This queen had earned his fealty. He couldn’t spend his fury on her, so he would spend it elsewhere. I will make this vampire’s life a living hell.
Yrsa turned to Emilia. “No one is more Berserker among us than Arctos of the Wintry Eye. You schemed to be here, so obviously you wanted a life of training and sacrifice. Your new husband will ensure you get it. Let’s see how a pampered leechling likes a bear’s life.”
And let’s see how she enjoys her new husband’s visage. He pulled off his helmet, revealing his face.
The vampire slowly turned to him with a look of dread. Whatever she saw was obviously worse than her imaginings. With a strangled cry, she fainted, hitting the ground like a bat shot out of the air.
Chapter 9
Inkletter
Nadje played me as a satyr plays a reed pipe.
Sweet notes, crooked tune.
Ink stood motionless outside the Berserker court, half traced, concealed to most. He’d dropped off Arctos and the prisoner, then lingered to eavesdrop, fearing he’d just signed the princess’s death warrant.