Page 107 of Ravenous

“Yes.” It had been mere weeks since the morning Emilia had demanded a place in the clan—since her trembling hand had touched the Channeler Stone, courage shining through her fear.

Maybe, in time, he and Emiliacouldbe friends. But nothing more. His scars ran deeper than flesh. Truly accepting a vampire as his wife just wasn’t possible for him. And the queen had to have suspected that.

“Dagny decreed I must be civil to Emilia,” Torben said. “I suspect you also wish me to be. I am trying.”

“I appreciate that.”

“But you must know your wife will come to crave blood. All bloodthieves do.”

“She refuses it, has set her considerable willpower against such thirst. And she might not be alone. Inkletter and his new partner are looking for others like her.”

“You’ve forgiven the incubus too?”

“He’s useful,” Arctos said, unwilling to explain the quiet shift within him—the fading of old anger, the first thread of something like hope.

Torben’s tone hardened. “You’re keeping things from me. A rift grows between us, and I won’t leave till you mend it.”Berserker forthrightness coupled with Berserker resolve.

Arctos had hoped to stall until after Dagny’s labor, but Torben was a wall when he wanted answers. “I consider you a brother, and I want no rift between us.”

“Then tell me what you’ve learned.”

Arctos exhaled. “Very well.” Lowering his voice, he said, “Emilia told mevampire royals keep Berserker slaves in the castle. A hundred or more. Used for blood.”

Torben went still. Too still, like an animal before it springs. “Captured?”

“And bred.”

A terrible silence followed as Torben’s rage swelled. His fingers flexed open and closed, knuckles cracking audibly. A muscle jumped in his jaw,twitch-twitch-twitch. “How long have you known? How long hasthe queenknown?”

Arctos admitted, “I told her soon after Emilia got here. She’s…investigating.” He’d kept Yrsa updated as she’d asked, but she’d put him off, telling him to dig more.

“When is the rescue mission? When do we leave?”

“There is no mission currently planned.”

Torben’s eyes fired silvery, his fury erupting; he seized the table and hurled it aside. Chairs and trenchers flew. “Why didn’t you fucking tell me?”

“Because I knew you’d react exactly like this. You’re already stretched thin—Dagny near her time, your Berserkerage close to breaking.” Right now he hovered at the brink.

“Don’t you dare say I’m compromised!”

Arctos gestured at the debris. “A curious way of proving you’re not.”

“Make me understand this. The queen knows that vampires use Berserkers as godsdamned food. Even if she can ignore the suffering of her people, she can’t ignore the scalding insult of it!” Torben began to pace, each turn sharper than the last. “Why hasn’t she ordered a rescue?”

“She has reasons. Reservations. I’m not privy to her thoughts.”

“Or she doesn’t trust what your vampire says.”

“Maybe.”

“Look at Yrsa’s other choices,” Torben pressed. “She could send you to the Helter and let you blaze through to ohalla. If she gave you leave to journey to the Kingdom of Rhun, you could become immortal with a single demon duel.”

“I have enough to handle with Emilia’s training,” Arctos said, a thin excuse even to his own ears.

“Still loyal,” Torben spat. “You have to wake up.”

Arctos’s own anger flared. “Loyalty means holding firm when it’s tested. Otherwise it’s not loyalty at all. How can you ignore our history? We wouldn’texistwithout her. We wouldn’t have thrived without her. The first channeler led our people here.”