What was his life worth now to Elden? Better to face the end now than to go on living with the failure. He heard voices in the hall.
THE BLOOD SORCERER SAT on the King of Elden’s throne. The former king. The body had been removed, but the stains from his blood still covered the floor. One of the castle servants tried to clean up the carnage left by her dying ruler’s body, but the sorcerer quickly put a stop to that. He thrilled at walking through the spilled blood of Aelfric. The dead king’s pain, the anguished cries, energized the great hall. The sorcerer still felt the traces of Aelfric’s fear for his children’s safety, and his growing need for vengeance, even as his life’s blood drained away, seeping onto the cold stone floor for the sorcerer now to plod through.
A wish for vengeance that would be denied. Even now the Blood Sorcerer’s minions were verifying the deaths of the heirs of Elden.
Leyek entered the great hall and bowed low to him. The sorcerer demanded the same displays one would give royalty. He was royalty. Better than any crowned monarch born of birth. The sorcerer had earned his right to walk exalted among the people. Killed until he reigned above all others. Drained the blood of many to sit on this gilt-and-jeweled throne.
“One of the scouts has returned, my lord,” Leyek informed him.
He unfurled his long index finger. “Only one?”
His minion nodded. “Yes. Your creature is weak. He must be fed before his questioning.”
The Blood Sorcerer stood, anger simmering around him. A visible mist. “Then see it done. There are plenty of Elden’s citizenry in the storehouses.”
“Already done, my lord.”
The mist began to dissipate. Leyek had earned his second in command years ago, and was bloodthirsty enough to not let his position weaken. “Good. Which heir?”
“The scout was too weak, but this pairing was after Dayn. Or the sister, I think.”
The Blood Sorcerer began to fondle the dark red rubies embedded in his chair. “Let’s hope it’s the girl, and that she’s still alive. I relish the draining.” He closed his eyes and shuddered in anticipated pleasure.
Agonized cries echoed outside. “Good. The feeding has begun. Let me know when he’s finished off with his stock. I want to be one with my pet in the questioning.”
Leyek nodded. “Very good, my lord.”
The Blood Sorcerer gave a disinterested wave of his hand. “Make sure the draining is slow and extreme. My pet deserves a treat.”
SOMETHING KINDLED WITHIN Rolfe. Some spark…some return to life. The desire to survive.
One of the heirs still lived.
Lived only to be hunted and slaughtered. But Rolfe might be able to prevent their capture. A small, sliver of a chance, yet he’d take it. He’d make himself invaluable. Learn all he could of the blood scouts, and steer them away from the heir they hunted.
OSBORN WAS SILENT BESIDE her as they traced their path back into town to buy supplies. Silent but certainly not forgotten. Breena had tried, forcing herself to enjoy the freedoms that awaited her. She’d focus on only the good experiences to be had in town, the booths, the food, the newness of it all. She’d forget about the men who dragged her in the alley. Their deaths. She had to put those thoughts aside, and block every painful experience she’d had since Rolfe shook her awake. It all seemed a different lifetime ago. Happened to a different person. Good. It was the only way she could face what was next to save her family and her people.
More villagers filled the streets and small groups clustered in front of the more popular booths. A surge of excitement quickened her steps, and soon she and Osborn were among the crowd. Even without the berserker she knew lurked below Osborn’s very prickly surface, he was one intimidating man. Tall and broad, there was no hiding the raw strength of him. The shopkeepers, eager for a sale, took a step backward as he approached, and she’d seen several people cross to the other side of the narrow street to avoid accidentally getting in his way. If he were one of her brothers, she’d tell him to remove that ever-present scowl on his face, he was scaring the townspeople. Or maybe it was those dark brown eyes of his that made those around his wary. He was constantly scanning the crowd, assessing the level of threat.
She may have grown up a sheltered princess, but Breena knew that kind of alert wasn’t instinctual. Her brothers were fighters after all. No, a man with that kind of guardedness and suspicion was like that because he’d brought danger down upon himself. His own doing.
The tales she’d read as a child always hinted at the softer side of the beast, but Breena suspected whatever soft side Osborn once had, he’d stomped to the ground and then did a little dance on its remains.
A smile tugged at her mouth, and Breena laughed at the foolish image she’d conjured in her head.
Osborn glanced at her sharply, and she laughed out loud. She’d blame her silly behavior on lack of sleep and the bone-deep weariness of her aching body that made her laugh with such little provocation. But it felt good to laugh. He stopped at a booth and she continued on, knowing his eyes would not stray from her for long.
“Do you need help?” the lady asked her quietly, darting a quick glance in Osborn’s direction. His attention was on the rope he was inspecting, but it would only be a distraction for a moment or two. His vigilant gaze would be upon them both soon. “Help?”
“To get away,” she explained, her voice a quiet hiss.
Tears filled her eyes, as Breena realized what the woman before her was asking. The shopkeeper was trying to help her, escape from the terrifying man who always kept her in sight. She quickly blinked the tears back. Crying would only alarm the woman further, and draw Osborn’s watchful eye. Breena managed to shake her head, overwhelmed by the kindness of this stranger. She’d faced a warrior and battled a creature of blood magic, but it was this one woman’s compassion that nearly reduced her to a shaking mess.
The woman’s gaze narrowed. “There are rumors of that one. He’s a killer. Ruthless.”
That’s exactly what Breena was hoping for.
“We’ve struck a bargain,” she told the woman who, despite her obvious fear of the man, would help Breena if she could.
Osborn had finished his transaction, and had turned his attention back to her. That fierce battle face of his firmly settled.
The woman beside her sucked in a fearful breath. “You’re sure?”
Her magic led her to this man. Breena was as sure as she could be.
“I’m here every other day. I’ve helped other women in the past. Just send me word, and I’ll do my best to get you free of him.”
Breena shook her head again. The rough fabric of the shirt rubbed at her nipples.
“Actually, there are a few things I need.”
IF BERNT AND TORBEN THOUGHT it was strange to see Breena at their brother’s side at the rendezvous point, they didn’t show it. They walked together as a group, silent, as Osborn bought additional supplies from the vendor. No one asked what she carried in her package, and she didn’t volunteer the information. These men didn’t need to know the intimacies of her underthings.
She caught snippets of agitated chatter from time to time.
“Did you hear? They found Unwin and Dudley dead. In one of the alleyways.”
“Thieves, the both of them. Surprised it hasn’t happened sooner.”
No one seemed to mourn the loss. A few days ago, the thought of someone dying, seeing someone killed before her eyes, would have been horrifying. Now she viewed the ruthlessness of others in a far different light, and the death of those who would murder without conscience did not bother her.
At another booth the vendors speculated on a suspect. “Who could have done it?”