She hugged this man tightly to her chest, her body still fluttering. Osborn had brought so much pleasure into her life. New experiences. She wouldn’t be who she was right now if it weren’t for him. A part inside her sobered. Was this the woman she was meant to be? If the Blood Sorcerer hadn’t attacked, everything would have stayed the same. She would have gone on being Princess Breena.
But the attacks did happen. Her parents were murdered, her realm most likely destroyed, the people who looked to the royal family for protection and continuity dead or enslaved. While she found bliss in the arms of a man.
BREENA WAS QUIET THE rest of the day, and he grew more worried. What if he really had hurt her, and she was trying to hide it? Why had he done it? Worn his pelt and chased after her? It was insanity.
Because she asked you.
And Osborn would do anything Breena requested of him. But not that again, he vowed. Never again. The idea of causing her harm made him hurt.
He watched her, helpless as she suffered through dinner. She had no stories to share at the campfire. By evening he was filled with guilt over his weakness. Osborn had to fix it. He followed her to her room that evening.
“You’ve been quiet all day,” he said as he joined her in the bed. She hadn’t told him to go and leave her alone, so he took that as a good sign.
“I was thinking about how happy I am.”
A rush of relief almost made him shake. Osborn laced his fingers with hers. “That’s a good thing.”
Breena shook her head. “No, it’s not. I shouldn’t be happy. Not when my people are suffering. When my parents are dead.”
Cold streaked through him. Not the kind that signaled the return of his berserkergang, but from panic. It was happening. He’d feared Breena would become guilt plagued…like him. It would eat at her now that it had taken root. The blame she’d heap on herself would tear at her soul, leaving her anguished and filled with regret.
He wanted to take her into his arms, and assure her that the death of her family was not her fault. Smooth the line forming between her brows, and tell her she had nothing to feel guilty over.
But he didn’t, because he knew she wouldn’t believe him. Just as he didn’t believe those same things about his own life.
They didn’t make love that night. Instead, they lay side by side, barely touching.
HE AWOKE THE NEXT MORNING with that same feeling of doom.
Osborn disentangled himself from the bedcoverings, and stared down at Breena’s beautiful face. He’d never grow tired of gazing at her. Even if he were privileged enough to grow old with her, see lines fanning from her eyes, and more gray than blond strands in her silky hair. It wasn’t her features that made her beautiful to him. It was her spirit. Her capacity to love, both him and his brothers, despite all that had been ripped from her life. Breena hadn’t feared the berserker in him. That’s when it all changed for him. She wasn’t afraid of anything.
While he was filled with fear.
He’d lose her. He knew it to be true now. Osborn had probably held on to her a little too long already.
After slipping out of her bed, he quickly dressed. He could no longer put off journeying into the village and seeking news of Elden. That was what loomed in the distance. Breena’s revenge and her dreams of seeing her brothers, if they were still alive, restored to the throne. It was time for her to fulfill and silence the commands—no, the curses—her parents instilled in her mind. Survive and avenge…survive to avenge.
The village was quiet as he crested the hill, most of its residents still asleep. All but the merchants. Osborn found the spice man unpacking his wares, and arranging the items for optimal display. The man smiled at his approach. “I told you to stock up on olive oil before my supply dried up. Now it’s all gone. Elden is a fortress.”
“What I need is information.”
The merchant only smiled. “The cost is the same. I’m a businessman, after all.”
Osborn dug in his pack, and handed over the coin.
“I’m afraid the news is not good, my friend. Can’t get anything in and out of Elden now. There’s talk the land is cursed by blood.” The merchant shuddered. “I will not go back, not even for the fortune I’d make.”
Cursed by blood. The snake scout made by blood magic. It all confirmed Breena’s dream memory. The Blood Sorcerer was behind the attacks on Elden. “What of Elden’s people?”
The spice man shook his head. “Of them I know even less, although with such little information, I’d suspect they were all dead.”
Osborn had suspected as much, too. Breena’s beloved brothers…Nicolai, Dayn and little Micah.
“There are rumors of a resistance.”
Finally. Some good news. “What?”
The merchant held up his empty palms. Clever ploy. Dropping his story at its most suspenseful.
Osborn slid more coins the spice man’s way. “If I learn your talk was all lies to gain my money, you’ll find yourself joining the dead of Elden.”
“No, my information is solid. Those loyal to Elden’s memory are gathering in an outbuilding along the border. Each day more return to gather arms and plan an attack. A fool’s last stand, if you ask me.”
And Breena should be there to lead her people.
Osborn had still been foolish enough to hold a small sliver of hope that Breena would stay. Hadn’t realized it until that hope just died. He should have known better. In the stories she shared around the firelight at night, the princess never remained in the cottage in the woods.
On his way out of the valley, Osborn secured the provisions they’d need for their travel to Elden. To the place where her people gathered, very likely awaiting a leader. He’d learned the positions of the stars as a child, and could easily lead her home.
The walk through the tree-lined path that would lead him back to Breena did not take long. With a quick knock to her bedroom door, he stepped inside. She smiled up at him, and stretched her morning sleep away.
“I was just wondering where you’d gone.” She scooted to the side and flipped back the bedcovering. “Now you can come back to bed.”
He did not move.
Her welcoming smile faded. “Osborn, what is it?”
“I have news of your people.”
Her beautiful green eyes widened.
“They’re forming a resistance. They hope to take back the castle.”
Breena squeezed her eyes tight. “Yes.” Then she whirled off the bed, quickly retrieving fresh clothes. “We’ve got to get there as soon as possible.”
“I’ve readied our packs.”
“I must gather my things. Do they know that I’m still alive? What a foolish question. Of course not. How would they even know? I wonder who’s leading them? And I’m talking so fast you can’t catch up.”
His lips turned up in a grin despite his souring mood. “You’re excited. It’s okay.”
Breena gripped his elbow. “It is going to be okay, isn’t it? I can feel it.”
“Finish packing what you need. I’m going to give some instructions to my brothers.”
Bernt flashed Osborn an accusatory glare when he stepped outside, blinking under the sun.
“I want to keep her,” Torben told him, sounding more boy than man.
“She doesn’t belong to us,” he tried to explain.
Bernt shook his head. “But you could make her stay. Tell her what she wants to hear.”
I love you.
Please stay.
I’m dying inside at the thought of you leaving me.
He ground his back teeth. “This is her path. We’ve always known that.”
“What about after? She’d come back if you asked her to.”
“I have no right to ask. Besides, she’s a princess. Princesses belong in castles.”
Bernt turned on his heel and stalked into the wilderness. There’d be no goodbyes from his younger brother.