A chill ran through him. His berserkergang wakened. “Elden?”
“No one can get in, and what news that’s coming out is bad. The queen and king dead. The heirs gone, too.”
Something satisfyingly elemental burned in his gut. Elden was finally getting its due. He rued that it wasn’t by his hand. He’d always taste the regret of vengeance not fully satisfied. The berserker in him called for his pelt. Maybe he could brandish the fatal blow and send those cold vamps to their deaths.
Osborn felt lighter than he could ever remember. At least since Elden wreaked havoc and took away most of his life. Now to complete his final task.
BREENA ACHED EVERYWHERE. Even her ears seemed to hurt, and she didn’t know how that was possible. Her shoulders dragged, and it took her longer than usual to make it to her knees and roll up her pallet and shove it out of the way.
The sun shone brightly through the window. Well past their usual practice time. Osborn must have suspected she wouldn’t be much use with a sword today. Especially as he was the one who made her this way.
The bedroom door opened, and Bernt and Torben slunk inside the main room, looking not much better than she felt.
“I don’t want to be an Ursan warrior anymore,” Torben said.
“Yes, you do,” she told him with a smile. “Grab some apples and bread. We can take our breakfast outside. The sunshine will do us some good.”
Once outside, Breena raised her face to the sun, allowing its warm rays to heat her cheeks. She stretched, relieving the tightness of her aching muscles. A blue bird flew over their heads, and she smiled.
“You seem different today,” Bernt remarked. A small frown formed between his brows. “You’re not wanting to leave us, are you?”
It had never really occurred to her that the boys would begin enjoying her in their lives. She’d felt more like an intruder, one who’d broken their furniture and stolen their food. But now she realized they’d miss her when she left, and she’d miss them.
Would their brother?
“I’ll have to go sometime. This isn’t my home.”
“But it could be,” Torben told her. “I saw Osborn clearing out some old furniture and crates out of the storeroom. I think he’s wanting to make it into a bedroom.”
“He doesn’t like you sleeping on the floor.”
The thought of Osborn caring about her comfort, trying to find someplace better for her to sleep, made her heart leap.
“I do like sleeping in front of the fire,” she assured them. “At home, I had a fireplace in my room. And besides, I’m too tired to do anything but just fall down on the floor and go to sleep.”
The boys laughed.
“I like it with you here,” Bernt informed her.
“Osborn does, too,” Torben added. “I can tell.”
“He’s a lot nicer. He doesn’t yell nearly as much.”
Really? Because she thought he yelled a lot. All the time.
“And he finally began our training.”
“He was already a warrior by the time he was our age, I think.” Torben bit his lip. “He doesn’t talk much of what happened to our parents and the rest of our people.”
She squeezed the boys’ shoulders. “I can imagine what he’s suffered. Is still suffering. Remember, he wasn’t much older than you when he took on the responsibility of two little boys. When you lose those you love, it changes you. But every day seems better than the last.”
That was a lie. A comforting adage she so wanted to believe, wanted these boys to believe, but suspected it would never be true. Each day didn’t diminish the hurt, only added more time and distance so that it would be easier to forget.
Avenge.
Breena couldn’t forget. Something inside wouldn’t let her.
The man who was the topic of their conversation entered the clearing. Osborn never failed to make her breath catch. He looked different somehow. Less grim, and with an added resolve. She hoped that didn’t mean more balance practice. He’d tied his hair back, and wore the town clothes from just a few days ago. In fact, he carried several large packages in his massive arms.
“Didn’t know if you crew would make it this morning,” he told them, something similar to a smile curving his lips.
Bernt and Torben quickly scrambled to their feet.
“Ready for more?” he asked, but his eyes were squared on her. “Get your swords, and head out to the practice field. I need to talk with Breena.”
The boys raced to get their scabbards and then flew around the corner of the cottage, leaving her alone with Osborn. He carefully placed his packages on a crate that stood next to the front door, and the dream of last night hit her full force. The pain of it. The anguish. Every vivid detail. But mostly the comfort given as she cried.
Osborn had given her that comfort. Wiped her tears. Breena knew that now. He’d soothed the ache in her heart. If only for a few moments.
Avenge.
Only she could not be truly consoled. Not until the need planted in her consciousness had been relieved.
For the first time, Breena felt uncertain around him. Not sure how to act or where to look. Something in their uneasy relationship had changed in the night while she slept. She twisted her hands, then quickly thrust them behind her back.
“I’ve been to the village,” he told her.
“I can see that,” she replied, eyeing the packages.
His eyes narrowed, and his gaze scanned her face, brushed over her every feature. He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck, a gesture she’d seen often enough now to know something heavy weighed upon him.
“I think I found a place where you can go,” he finally told her, his gaze dropping.
“Go?”
“There’s a woman in the village. She fell last winter and has trouble taking care of her home now. You’d have the entire second floor to yourself, and a little spending money.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You can’t continue to stay here, Breena,” he told her with a shrug. “It’s not right. Not a woman with three men.”
Breena made a scoffing sound in the back of her throat. “Are you actually going to talk to me about appearances? Propriety?”
He tugged loose the rope that held his hair in place, freeing the strands. There was her Osborn. Wild and untamed. “I’m trying to do what’s right for you.”
She marched toward him. Breena wasn’t about to let him get away with making decisions for her. “By sending me away? We had a deal.”
Breena watched him swallow. Then his gaze turned to hers. “You cried last night, Breena. You cried in my arms.” His voice sounded raspy and strained.
A lump formed in her throat. The warrior who’d tried not to care about her worried for her. A lot.
“This isn’t good for you. You’re not meant for this life.”
And she was not meant for him, he was saying.
“I don’t want to see you grow cynical and so consumed with vengeance nothing will ever be right for you again.”
“I’m consumed with vengeance now.”
“And it will eat away at you until there’s nothing left but hate. I don’t want you to end up like…me.”
Breena shook her head. “I can’t turn it off. My parents are dead. I saw them die. There was so much blood.” She covered her face with her hands. “I didn’t even get to bury their bodies. Something calls out to me. I can’t let it go.”
“How do you know this? Your memory—”
“My memory came back,” she interrupted.
SHE MET HIS GAZE, AND WHAT he saw in those green depths made him pause. Made his breath hold and his chest constrict.
“Last night I put myself in a dreamhaze. I went back to the night my parents…” She swallowed. “I went back to the night my parents died. I saw the blood. Their blood. The wounds to their bodies.”