Hollen the Soulless: A Fantasy Romance (Dokiri Brides Book 1)

by Denali Day

  Joselyn choked on a sob and stumbled into a snowbank. She sat up on her knees. She couldn’t face him like this. She was a disaster. Before today, Joselyn had known what her father really felt for her. She’d accepted it. So why couldn’t she breathe now? Why did it suddenly feel like the truth was crushing her from the inside out?

  Because he knows. Because Hollen knows.

  How could he? How could he throw that in her face?

  For the first time since arriving on the mountain, she was too hot. She ripped at the tie lacing the front of her underdress, tearing it loose. Her secret was out. Marcus Fury didn’t love her. Had never loved her. Old bitterness clutched at her throat with unnatural force. A strangled cry escaped her lungs, and Joselyn pressed the back of her palm against her lips.

  A demand shrieked within her. A vile need for her father to feel how low this humiliation had brought her. She needed that degradation to seep so deep he could no longer bear to stand before a mirror. Just as she’d stopped doing years ago.

  “Joselyn?” called a deep voice.

  Joselyn froze. She swept the sleeve of her dress across her face, brushing away what she could of her tears. Her head snapped up and she fixed dagger eyes upon Ivan. He stared down at her with that scarred face of his that otherwise was so much like Hollen’s.

  “What?” she snapped.

  Ivan glanced around the ravine. “What’s wrong, mu Saliga?”

  She hated that title. Hated these people who insisted on using it. She needed to get away from them. They wouldn’t understand. No one here understood what she had to do. Sniffing, Joselyn jumped to her feet.

  “Take me to the lowlands.”

  Ivan took a step back and dropped his head to look into her eyes. “What did he do?”

  She ignored him. “I don’t belong here. Your brother doesn’t see that, but maybe you do? Maybe you see a lot of things your brother doesn’t see.”

  Joselyn had kept an eye on Ivan, waiting for a good moment to proposition him. In that time, she’d learned a few things about him. The man thought he knew better than Hollen on practically everything. Maybe he wanted to be better than Hollen? Well, now was his chance.

  “Do you like living in a cave, Ivan? Sequestered to one small part of the world for the rest of your life? The height of your potential already realized? Wouldn’t you like more for yourself, to be more? My father could give you that. Could give you anything you ask.”

  She held her breath. The gods knew, this was her best chance. Ivan studied her, his eyes narrowed in thought. After a moment, he licked his fingers and wiped away some of the dirt on her face. Before Joselyn could react, he chucked her beneath the chin.

  “I’m sorry things have been so hard on you, Joselyn.” A sympathetic frown crossed his face. “I swear they’ll get better. One way or another.”

  With that, he turned and continued down the ravine, taking her hope with him. Fresh tears welled.

  Joselyn turned her face up to raining snow. The season was growing later every hour. A knot twisted in her addled stomach as a thought bobbed to the surface of her mind. This was the day she’d been meant to arrive in Brance. And she was no closer to arriving than she’d been when Hollen first plucked her from her horse. She’d done nothing.

  Enough crying. Enough begging. Enough of this. It’s time to act.

  She grasped at her necklace, rubbing the pendant so hard the friction warmed it.

  It’s time to be the dragon.

  19

  Fools Rush In

  The common area was dark, but Joselyn carried no torch. Instead she stuck to the periphery, drawing her hand along the outer wall. Each step seemed to echo through the cavernous space, threatening to expose her. She took her time, careful not to sabotage herself.

  Hollen hadn’t stirred as she’d slipped from their bed, drawing the gneri blade out with her as she rose. Her captor was a heavy sleeper. Creeping out of their bok unnoticed had been no great hardship. For that, Joselyn thanked the gods. They hadn’t spoken a word since their fight. When he came to bed, Joselyn heard him start to, but he’d changed his mind. It was for the best. Nothing good could have come from it.

  An icy chill blew across Joselyn's face as she stepped from beneath the shelter of the common area. The nearly full moon illuminated the dead of night. Against the glare of the snow, she could easily make out the details of the downward-sloping ravine. Joselyn scurried down to the shadowy forge. Sure enough, it was empty. The elderly man, who seemed an ever-present fixture within the armory, was nowhere in sight. It appeared the gods were on her side. She snapped up the bow Hollen had fitted for her along with a quiver of arrows, then made her way back up the slope.

  Joselyn hurried to her cache and fished out her supplies. Finally, it was off to the wood stacks. Giant skids lay against the enormous pile of cut logs. The wooden pallets were used for hauling firewood up the mountain by way of mountain rams. Their bottoms were fitted with shining metal glides that helped them move up the slopes. Joselyn tipped one over.

  The fresh layer of powdery snow muffled the sound of the skid hitting the ground. Her timing seemed impeccable. Even Hollen’s riders had reported that no veligiri had been spotted on this side of the mountain today. She would never get a better chance. Joselyn stacked her supplies on the skid and tied them down with the leather trappings that were meant to secure logs. Now came the difficult part.

  She grabbed on to the front of the skid and tugged. It glided with ease. Too much ease. As she dragged it backward, the slope of the ravine deepened. Joselyn dug her feet into the snow, pushing against the skid to keep it from mowing her over. It took her the better part of an hour to walk it down the ravine. A cold sweat broke out across her brow.

  Finally, she made it to a safe launching point. She was already tired, but this was worth it. Instead of crossing miles of snowy terrain on foot, she’d be sledding down it in a fraction of the time. She had to disappear into the forest before the sun rose.

  Once free of the ravine’s walls, Joselyn stopped the skid. This was it. She glanced back toward Bedmeg for the last time.

  She should be relieved. Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was leaving something behind. Something newfound and precious. Now her anger had cooled, Joselyn could acknowledge that she didn’t hate Bedmeg, didn’t hate its people. In another life, she would have liked to have known them better, to have explored what kind of woman she might have become. To make a home. She closed her eyes.

  I am a dragon. The dragon submits to none.

  She exhaled on a sharp breath and girded her nerves against the harrowing darkness ahead.

  She was Joselyn Helena Elise Fury, and Hollen the Soulless of Bedmeg wasn’t the only one on this mountain who understood duty.

  Joselyn crawled onto her belly, mounting the skid. It was moving even before she settled herself upon it. Just like that, she was blowing down the mountain, toward her destiny. She’d have likened it to flying, except she’d already done that. This wasn’t the same, though it was still terrifying. She stifled a squeal as the skid plunged forward. It sped over a drift and she soared on a current of air, well above the sparkling ground. Joselyn’s hands squeezed the wood so tightly she’d have to pick splinters from them later.

  In a matter of minutes, she was miles from Bedmeg. She was free. After nearly a fortnight, Joselyn had taken hold of her destiny. So why did she feel like she was escaping one form of bondage only to rush headlong into another? She pushed the thought into the back of her mind, choosing to focus on not tumbling from the skid.

  Faster than she could have hoped, the blackness of the tree line approached. She hadn’t accounted for just how quickly the skid would travel. How was she going to stop it? She had little time to think. In a moment of panic, she rolled off.

  Joselyn spun out of control, the wild twist of her legs carrying her far across the snowy ground. Had she not pinned it shut, her coat would have been yanked from her body as she tumbled. When she finally
stopped rolling, Joselyn lay staring up at the star-studded sky. It spiraled above her. She heaved breath into her lungs, desperate to reground herself. There was a crashing sound in the distance, an explosion of lumber. Dread washed through her, and Joselyn groaned. She no longer needed the skid, but like a grim omen, its destruction unsettled her all the same.

  Joselyn wobbled to her feet. The world still seemed to be spinning, and she struggled to reorient herself. She fixed her eyes upon the darkness of the tree line and trudged through the snow in the direction she’d heard the crash. It wasn't long before she found the skid tracks. Joselyn frowned. Should she be pursued, Hollen would know where to start his search. She sighed. It was unavoidable. If her luck continued to hold, the morning sun would melt most of her tracks, just as it had the morning of her hunt.

  A great deal of her nerve evaporated as she stepped into the trees. An image of the blood-seeker flashed in her mind as she crept through the shadows. Would she meet a similar horror out here on her own? The question had plagued her before leaving. From the safety of Bedmeg, it had been easier to reason that Hollen and his men had just patrolled this side of the mountain. He’d assured her that they’d found no further threats. Still, their search had taken place in the daytime. Perhaps the expectations were different at night?

  Focus, Joselyn.

  Following the pull of gravity, she hiked her way through the forest. Instead of crashing blindly into the trunks of trees, she only scratched herself on the prickle of pine needles every other minute. Her progress was slow, and made all the slower by the amount of supplies she’d brought. It was a relief when Joselyn entered a flat clearing and was able to walk unimpeded in the light of the moon.

  How long would it be before she stumbled upon one of her countrymen? A few days? A week? Joselyn had only to make herself known, and her people would do anything to assist the daughter of Lord Fury. A generous reward was all but guaranteed.

  What would her father do when she returned? What would he say to the daughter who had risked her life to save their house? She ground her teeth.

  He doesn’t love me. But, by the gods, after this he will respect me. He’ll look me in the eyes and know what his daughter did to save him from himself.

  The world might owe her nothing, but Marcus Fury owed her that much.

  She thought of Hollen then, thought of his excitement and unfettered pride when she shot the storen. It had required so little to please him, to elicit his praise. He’d marched through the forest with her, his head held high. Her own satisfaction had swelled, blazing bright by the fan of his untempered approval. How she wanted to feel that pride again. Right now. As she risked everything to save the life of the man who’d sold her to his enemies. Instead, all she felt was the pang of regret.

  No. I don’t have time for this. Focus on the task at hand.

  But she couldn't. Now that she’d thought of him, she couldn’t stop. She’d promised to close the lid on his memory. And yet, every detail shone in her mind. The tenor of his voice, the curve of his mouth, the warmth of his hands. Shivering against the night chill, she ached to feel that warmth now. Yearned to feel his heat around her, upon her, within her. She stopped.

  She turned to look back up the way she’d come. It was just as dark as the path before her. There was no certainty there, no assurances. But there was an oath. The promise of a wild man who’d looked at her with pure eyes. Eyes filled with a depth of devotion that had never been offered to Joselyn. And it had come without condition. Without a price to be paid by her.

  A swell of hot tears rose up and Joselyn let them fall. She hadn’t danced with him, hadn’t kissed him. She hadn’t said goodbye. Regret pulled at her chest, back up the mountain.

  He could never love you. Not if he knew what you were really like.

  This morning he’d guessed her secret. Her own father didn’t love her. At worst that made her contemptible. At best, pathetic. And he’d only guessed the half of it. The rest was so much worse. Despite what he thought, she didn’t love Lord Fury. In truth, she despised him. Her own father. And if she didn’t continue on right now, she’d be exactly what he always thought she would be. Worthless.

  Cry if you must. Shed your tears. But you are not going back.

  Joselyn stood a while, her gaze darting up and down the slope of the mountain. That was it, then. She sniffed, drawing her sleeve across her face. She swallowed, calling upon a lifetime of tempered discipline. If she was still any longer, the night’s chill would set into her bones. That was what she told herself as she took a step toward her father, and away from Hollen.

  A tremor wracked the ground beneath her, accompanied by a deep rumbling across the snow. Joselyn froze. A wave of fear dove down her belly. She looked down. There was nothing but fresh, gray snow sparkling in the moonlight.

  Another tremor rumbled through the ground and up her knees. Her instincts wailed. Joselyn started running, her vision tunneling. She shed her water skins, desperate to be free of their weight. They struck the snow with a thud, followed by the sharp crack of shattering ice.

  In Joselyn’s line of sight, the tree line jumped. Before she could contemplate what it meant, her body plunged into a glacial cold that stole the breath from her lungs and seized her heart in her chest.

  Hollen woke to a fist pummeling his chest.

  “Glanshi.” He squinted, trying to see who it was against the glow of the torch. His head pounded with the ache of a fitful night’s sleep.

  Ivan hissed at him in their father tongue. “Get up. Your bride is gone.”

  What?

  Hollen swept an arm out into the coolness of the furs. No Joselyn. He drew upward, feeling for the gneri blade. It was gone. He threw back the blankets and leapt from the bed.

  “Where is she?” he demanded.

  “Helig knows.”

  Va Kreesha. Hollen threw on his clothes.

  Ivan glared at him from across the bok. “I saw her crying yesterday. What did you do?”

  Guilt nettled at him. He had made her cry. A lot. Though she’d tried to hide the worst of it from him. Joselyn was nothing if not proud. He ignored his younger brother and sprinted down the tunnel.

  The common area was still dark. The sun would be rising in an hour and several of the Dokiri hammas were already preparing the morning meal. Lavinia was among them. Hope fluttered within him. His bride had taken a liking to the woman. Hollen darted in her direction, greeting her as he approached with a jerking fall of his hand from his forehead.

  Lavinia, unused to seeing him at this hour, nodded with wide eyes. She spoke in stutter-free Dokiri. “Mu Salig, is all well?”

  “Have you seen atu Saliga?” He spoke loudly enough for eavesdroppers to chime an answer.

  A knowing look crossed her features. “Not since last night. May I help you search?”

  Hollen nodded, grateful. The woman set aside her work and hurried in the direction of the women’s springs, the one place in Bedmeg he was forbidden from entering. Ivan caught up to him and shoved an open palm into his shoulder. Hollen whipped around, ready to pummel him. The look on Ivan’s face made him hesitate.

  “I found skid tracks leading outside Bedmeg.”

  Hollen’s blood went cold. “What?”

  Ivan crossed his arms. “I’m not supposed to interfere. But your bride begged for my help yesterday. I figured she might do something like this. You should have been prepared.”

  Hollen shoved past him, racing out into the ravine. He found the skid tracks and followed them, breaking off for the forge. Hollen searched with rising urgency among the bows of his youngest clansmen. His gaze swept across the wall of hanging weapons until they fell upon the empty spot where the bow he’d outfitted for Joselyn should have been. His stomach plummeted.

  Gods, woman. What madness overtook you?

  He dashed back up the ravine, cursing himself with every step. His bride had made no secret of her desire to leave him. Everyone in his clan knew it. She wasn’t the first Doki
ri hamma to have entered Bedmeg an unwilling prize, but it was rare for a bride to object as staunchly as she, and so frequently.

  Whose fault is that, you idiot?

  Why had he yelled at her? Talked down to her? Made her cry? He growled. Because he’d been angry. Because for all he’d tried to win her, she still insisted on going back to that man. That monster. But was that really so hard to understand? She loved her father, bastard though he was, and wanted to save his life. Why had he taken that so personally?

  Because I’m a bastard too.

  He burst into the common area and yelled for Lavinia. She was just coming out from the springs. All around, the Dokiri hammas whispered to each other with widened eyes.

  Lavinia ran to him. “She isn’t there, mu Salig. The springs are empty!”

  “Erik!” Hollen roared.

  He didn’t wait. He ran back under the open sky. It was just bluing with the threat of breaking dawn. He sent up the sharp whistle, commanding his mount to descend even as he rushed back to the armory. He gathered his weapons, his bow, his axe, knives. By the time he was yanking his saddle off its bench, Jagomri was trilling outside.

  Hollen hoisted the leather saddle onto his gegatu’s back, ignoring the creature’s hiss. He cursed the trappings as he worked to fasten them with shaking hands. Footsteps came up behind him. It was Erik and Ivan.

  Erik jumped to help with Jagomri’s saddle. “Mu Salig, what is it?”

  “I have to go. You’re in command while I’m gone.”

  Erik worked the buckles and laces from his end, vastly speeding the process. “What’s happened?”

  “She’s gone,” Hollen said, uninclined to hide things from his second-in-command. Ivan shook his head.