Page 19 of Ravenous
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 9Inkletter
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.
Usually Ink played a less active role in hostage procurement, but Arctos had asked as a friend—and paid like a patron.
Yet more distasteful developments from Ink’s time in Bloodreach.
Now he staggered, his muscles tight. Ravinelun’s morning winds carried enough court echoes to make it clear: the vampires had used Ink as a game piece. How much had the Badlander Nadje known, and how long had she been arranging the board?
Bad intel could bruise;thiscould end him.Centuries of reputation—bent on the rack.
Though Ink burned to trace to Nadje and demand answers, he hesitated. She repelled him, yet when he’d bedded her, something had happened that had never occurred before in all his years.
He’d nearly lost control.
Over the years, he’d watched kings and killers go stupid over lovers and filed it underother men’s weaknesses. Or else they hadn’t studied history to grasp the folly of surrendering oneself.
I almost surrendered.
He could surmise only one explanation. Perhaps Nadje’s tears had aroused him. She’d wept as she’d shattered, seasoning his meal. It’d been as if he’d eaten bland food all his life, then he’d tasted salt for the first time.
Delectable.Could he be a dacryphile?
How? He avoided tears like curses, outside bed and in it.So what in the gods’ names was it?
Time to dissect the anomaly named Nadje. He tensed to trace but froze at the sound of snickering from a nearby vantage. He slid closer, invisible as breath.
Two Valkyries crouched in the snow, a blonde and a brunette with their pointed ears tipped to the court. The blonde had sparing runes tattooed on her forehead and cheeks, and the brunette’s brown eyes were shrewd.
His fists clenched. He loathed Valkyries, blamed them most for the Exile three thousand years ago.
They were bizarre creatures who fed on electricity. Their origin tale was just as bizarre, one only a drunken chronicler could excuse:
A maiden warrior dying with courage on a battlefield…Wóden and Freya hearing her scream of defiance…striking her with their lightning, impregnating her with a Valkyrie, and rescuing her to Valhalla…then striking other brave maidens from all species until an army of Valkyries prowled their aurora halls…
An immortal sisterhood.
Ink recognized the pair before him: Vendela the Lightning Rider, a swordswoman so fast and intense she made lightning seem slow and relaxed, and her sister Eyrun the Eyesore. They were alleged spies but confirmed troublemakers who seemed to dine on chaos as much as the electricity that fed them.
How much had they heard? Would the news of his failure spread even faster than he’d thought?
He bared his demon fangs and drifted nearer, a scholar tempted to make history.
***
