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

by Denali Day

  After all this time, she was still thinking of her wretched father. Damn that evil man.

  Joselyn tilted her head up to look at him, surprise etched on her beautiful face. “What does that mean?”

  “It means, you’re so damned desperate for his love, you’d sooner throw yourself on a pyre than accept that your father will never have any to give. You’d throw all of this”—he gestured at the bok—“away, for no reason.”

  She made a scoffing sound that was almost a laugh. “You’re not hearing a word I’m saying. You don’t understand.”

  He took a step toward her, reaching for her arm. He barely stopped himself. He was too angry. If he touched her now he might accidentally hurt her. His fist clenched on empty air. Instead, he let raw anger bleed into his voice.

  “No. You don’t understand. You think you can throw a tantrum in front of our people and manipulate me into giving you up? After years of waiting for you? Dreaming about you? You think I’ll just fly you back to the lowlands and scrub my hands? You understand nothing about me.”

  Now it was Joselyn’s turn to be stunned.

  “But you’re going to. I always keep my promises, woman.” His jaw was so tight he thought his teeth might crack. He pointed at her. “And I’ll swear it again as I’ve sworn it before, nothing you do will ever make me return you to the lowlands. You’re here for as long as I’m allowed to keep you. And none of your petty schemes will change that.”

  Joselyn’s face paled. “I’ll make your life miserable.”

  He laughed. He’d been in misery from the moment he’d seen her. She was like a perfect dream that he kept waking from the moment he got close enough to touch. “I don’t care.”

  “I’ll find a way to hurt you. I’ll . . .I’ll hurt the clan.”

  Hollen choked on a breath. Hurt the clan? Joselyn? She couldn’t mean it. What could she even think to do to them? He was about to ask when he saw the widened alarm in her flickering gaze. Her hand was braced against her stomach and she sort of swayed on her feet. She was barely present, her mind racing.

  She’d spoken without intent. She was bluffing. And now, desperation was making her panic. Finally, after weeks of being here, she was truly comprehending her situation. This wasn’t some courtly game. This was a reality with consequences as stark as life and death. Hollen wasn’t playing with her.

  “Enough of this, Joselyn. Accept your lot.”

  Accept me.

  She turned away. Her eyes still cast aimlessly about the room. “You have to take me back. You have to.”

  “It’s not going to happen.”

  She didn’t seem to be listening. “I ha—I have to get out of here.”

  Lunging forward, he gripped her by the arms, forcing her to look up at him. Hollen gave her a little shake. “Joselyn! Regna, you stubborn woman! What will it take to make you understand?”

  She blinked. Tears spilled over her freckled cheeks. A whip of anger contorted her features, and clarity re-entered her gaze. She twisted in his grip. “Let me go!” she snarled.

  The crack in her voice, like a trapped animal, sliced at him. He released her. She stumbled out of his grip and darted away, ducking into the darkness of the tunnel.

  Hollen stared after her. The hum of the mountain and crackle of the fire were the only sounds left once her footsteps faded. Fury and regret boiled in his gut as he paced around the bok. She was still trying to leave him. His bride hated him and all he’d been able to do was rail at her. He scrubbed a palm over his face.

  Should he chase her down? Demand that she stop crying? Stop hurting? What would he say? What had caused her outburst in the first place? And how in the name of the gods had this situation been turned around on him?

  “Va kreesha.”

  Were all women mad, or only his?

  29

  Confessor

  Joselyn turned off into the nearest alcove of the private springs. There were no other torches around. Satisfied she was alone, she notched hers. She crept into the tiny sanctuary and took a seat on the first dry rock she spotted. Close by, a steady stream of water trickled into the pool, echoing off the smooth stone walls. The warm air was thick with moisture. It made little hairs cling to Joselyn’s neck. She drew her knees up and gave in to her tears. They torrented down her face. After a while, Joselyn’s head began to ache.

  He’s never going to take me back.

  Joselyn thought she’d come to terms with that. Now she knew she hadn’t. Not really. She’d always expected to get free, had known that Bedmeg would never be her ultimate fate. Her abduction had been a mere detour on her way to her true destiny. An obstacle to overcome. How wrong she’d been.

  That’s it. It’s over.

  A sense of finality crushed her from the inside. Her father would die. Her house would fall. Apart from Tansy, there would be nothing left to go back to. She’d failed. Joselyn Fury had been defeated. She reached for her pendant, but her fingers only brushed her tanshi mark. More tears fell. The leaking stream of water absorbed her pathetic whimpers.

  What was she going to do now?

  “Well, you’ve picked a fine spot for a cry out.”

  Joselyn jumped. She threw a glance toward the natural archway to see Rosemary staring in at her, torch in hand. Joselyn jerked her face in the other direction, swatting at her tears.

  “Too late for that, I’ve seen you! Now the ‘ole world will know that you’re human like the rest of us.”

  Joselyn stiffened and turned back to glare at the brunette woman. Rosemary met her ire and chuckled. She kicked off her boots, lifted her skirts, and tiptoed through a puddle over to where Joselyn sat.

  “Put your feet in the water.” She sat down next to her and plunged her own legs into the steaming pool. “I didn’t come all the way down ‘ere just to sweat my bloody tits off.”

  For a moment, Joselyn forgot her misery to stare blankly at her companion. Rosemary’s crassness never ceased to startle her, but she found that it no longer offended; rather, it amused her. The ladies of court would throw themselves over a hearth before allowing such words to pass their lips. Not Rosemary.

  She considered asking her to leave, but realized suddenly that she no longer wanted to be alone, mired in this spirit-sucking darkness. She might have preferred Lavinia, or really anyone to Rosemary. But, Rosemary was here, so Rosemary it was. Joselyn dipped her feet into the water.

  “Who knew you had such talent for theatrics? Do all ladies? They teach you that in your frilly schools? Alongside dancin’ and curtsyin’ and walkin’ in ridiculous dresses?”

  “What are you talking about?” Joselyn asked, trying to ignore the peasant woman’s mocking tone.

  “That show you put on during the idaglo!” Rosemary’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “If you can call it that. Leah and Briel is always fussin’ about somethin’ stupid.”

  Joselyn’s skin went hot and itchy. She hadn’t planned to be here for the fallout of her actions. It had been one of the perks of her plan. After embarrassing Hollen and herself so thoroughly, leaving Bedmeg wouldn’t feel like such a hardship.

  “I—” Joselyn stalled. What could she say? Rosemary wouldn’t understand. She sighed. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  Rosemary shot her a doubtful look. “Somethin’ tells me a woman like you knows exactly why she does everythin’, even before she does it. You’re the kind of girl my mother tried to raise.”

  Gripping the edge of the pool with both hands, Joselyn stared into the black water as its heat soaked into her flesh. “I thought he would take me home.”

  She’d expected him to raise his voice to her, perhaps even a hand. It’s what men in her country would have done. He was supposed to call Jagomri down and toss her back to the plains like a cursed talisman.

  Rosemary scoffed. “No such luck, eh?”

  Not in the least. And now, she’d hurt her savage. The one man in this world who treated her like she was worth a damn. Worth fighting for. The look of hur
t in his eyes had infuriated her. He’d pushed her to this, made her a prisoner, taken all her options. And still, she was sorry. If she could do it over again, she’d take it back in a heartbeat.

  “I don’t want to go home,” she murmured.

  But then, this had never been about what she wanted. Joselyn risked a sideways glance at Rosemary. The other woman looked completely unsurprised.

  “Then why are you acting like the princess I’m always sayin’ you are?”

  “Because I should go. I have responsibilities.”

  Rosemary put a hand on her hip. “Big, important lady.”

  “And because . . .he’ll regret me.” Fresh tears welled, but Joselyn held them in. “Sooner or later.”

  Rosemary studied her, as if she weren’t sure what to make of the statement. A few moments passed before the other woman spoke. “Doubt it. The Salig don’t regret anythin’ ever. He’s like you, he is. Thinks everythin’ through too much.”

  She didn’t know why, but hearing Rosemary say that stole some of her despair away. Joselyn turned to look at her, noticing for the first time how young the woman was. She couldn’t be but a year or two older than Joselyn, and yet, her hardness had made her seem older. Some of that hardness was gone now, as though she’d left it behind in the common area.

  “I suppose everyone despises me now?” Joselyn swallowed.

  Rosemary rolled her eyes. “You know, the ‘ole world don’t spin around you. People have other things to worry about.”

  The words were flippant, but her voice held no malice. Joselyn wanted to believe her. Was it possible the others hadn’t condemned her? Was everyone here as forgiving as Hollen? She narrowed her eyes. “Why are you here, Rosemary?”

  The brunette woman stared at her feet as she sloshed them in the water. “Cause you’re a fancy thing. And fancy things need tendin.’ ”

  Was she being kind? Specious? Joselyn’s lower lip trembled. “Too fancy for you, right? Wouldn’t you like to see me gone?”

  Rosemary’s legs went still as she regarded Joselyn, then shrugged. “I never met a woman who don’t like fancy things.”

  It was late when Joselyn went back to the bok. Rosemary had stayed a while in the springs, sometimes talking, sometimes sitting quietly. Joselyn had taken a surprising amount of comfort from her. Apparently, there was more to the peasant woman than drinking and crude humor.

  Joselyn had remained far past dinner, unable to face the rest of the clan just yet, despite Rosemary’s encouragement. When she finally crept back through the common area, it had been nearly empty. She trudged her way to the bok.

  Hollen sat in front of the fire, shirtless, an elbow slung over one knee. He looked up when she entered. She couldn't immediately gauge his mood, and it unnerved her. She clasped her hands together and drew in a breath.

  Just say it, Joselyn.

  "I'm sorry."

  Across the fire, Hollen blinked. He looked surprised, and for some reason that made her feel better. She’d never made an apology before. Not a real one. She hoped she’d do it well.

  "I purposefully made you look foolish in front of your people, but not so foolish as I made myself. I wish I had not."

  The fire popped, throwing sparks into the air. Hollen regarded her another moment before climbing to his feet. He crossed the bok to her.

  "Where were you today?"

  "I went to the springs. I needed"—she searched for the word—"time."

  Joselyn looked up at him, forcing herself to meet his eyes. They were soft, but weary.

  "Are you well now?" he asked.

  She nodded. "Are you?"

  He sighed, then nodded back.

  What should she do now? Joselyn looked at her feet. They itched to turn around and walk right back out. But where could she go? At this point, she’d sleep anywhere else to avoid imposing herself on him. Her belly chose that moment to rumble its demand for food.

  Mortified, she snapped her gaze back to Hollen, who regarded her with a twinge of amusement.

  “Have you not eaten?”

  Joselyn preferred not to admit she’d hidden all day from the entire clan, not just from him. Before she could come up with an excuse, her stomach growled again. Her face went hot.

  “Here.” He walked back toward the fire where he had a plate of barely touched food on the ground.

  Joselyn followed. She was suddenly grateful for an inroad back to their bok.

  Our bok?

  Was she claiming it now? Joselyn looked around. Was that their bed, then, too?

  “You must be tired. It’s late for you.”

  Joselyn turned. He’d been watching her stare at the bed. She plopped to the ground and began picking at the food, careful not to appear famished. He sat, too.

  “Tomorrow you’ll begin your knife lessons again.”

  “Are you that eager for vengeance?” Her expression was light, but her voice betrayed her true feelings. The day’s events had completely humbled her. Her failed plan, Hollen’s reaction, Rosemary’s compassion, and now this. She’d been forgiven, though surely she didn’t deserve it.

  Hollen’s face didn’t light at her jibe. “I’m not angry, mu hamma. Not anymore.”

  Joselyn had to swallow very hard to get the food into her knotted-up stomach.

  “I just—” He paused, then leaned forward to prop his arms upon his bent knees. “I just don’t understand you.”

  “How do you mean?”

  He looked as though he were thinking very carefully on his next words. “Your father…”

  Joselyn’s hand froze over the plate of food, then retreated into her lap. Her appetite was officially gone.

  “ . . . can you not see he doesn’t deserve your loyalty?”

  Staring into the flames, Joselyn thought on that.

  “I don’t understand you, either.”

  Hollen’s head perked up. “Me?”

  She nodded. “You’re a man of honor. You take your role as a leader seriously. You don’t tout your power over them nor demand they serve you. You serve them.”

  He watched her, and his shoulders straightened a bit as she spoke.

  “You understand duty. It’s important to you?”

  Hollen nodded.

  Joselyn ran a tired hand down her braid, and her voice grew quiet. “And yet you say you want me? A woman who would have to abandon her people to be with you?”

  A look of surprise crossed his features. “Are you saying it’s your people who draw your heart back home?”

  Joselyn tried not to scoff. The only part of her heart that remained at home was the piece that belonged to Tansy. The rest was sitting right in front of her. The thought should have panicked her, sent her sprinting back to the springs. But she was simply too exhausted to fuss. And at any rate, she had known it for a while.

  “Duty is important to me, too. I have a duty to my people.” She grimaced. “And to my father as well. Wouldn’t you have done anything for your father? Your mother?”

  She could tell Hollen was trying not to scowl. Instead, his contempt came out in his voice. “My parents were good to me. They deserved my respect and love.”

  “If you only ever gave people what they deserved, you’d have cast me out of Bedmeg tonight.”

  Hollen looked startled by that. He shook his head. “Mu hamma, you are far too hard on yourself.”

  “It’s a trait we share, I think.” She thought of how distraught he’d been when she was attacked, of how he’d managed to pile all the blame on himself. She wished now that she’d tried harder to relieve him of that guilt.

  “And anyway, you’d be harder on me, too, if you really understood how my mind worked.”

  Warm amber flickered over him as he peered at her. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not like you, Hollen. I don’t want to save my people because I have some great love for them. I don’t know them. I’d never even met a Morhageese peasant before coming to Bedmeg. Helping them is an ideological imperative. One I m
ust adhere to.”

  He was frowning now. “Why, then?”

  Joselyn inwardly cringed. It was almost laughable. For all her attempts to bribe his men, sabotage his leadership, and outright run off, the most effective way to be sent home might well be the simplest: telling him the truth. This was it. It was time to show him who she really was.

  “Because I hate my father.”

  Hollen cocked his head, then shook it once. “But…all you talk about is wanting to save him.”

  “A necessary evil,” she said, simply.

  Hollen hesitated, then shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

  “My father is an effective lord. Those are in direly short supply in my country. Most of the land is starving for the greed and mismanagement of the privileged few that enjoy titled status. A recent plague hasn’t done us any favors, either.

  “In House Fury’s lands, Tirvine, the serfs remain well fed. They’re treated fairly, if somewhat strictly. And our borders haven’t suffered raids in decades. If my father dies, things will change. My extended family will lose their lands and titles. Governorship will go to skies know where, and none of the prospects are good.”

  “So you want to save him for your people’s sake?”

  Joselyn nodded.

  “Why do you hate him?”

  An old pain stirred in her chest. She’d never spoken of this to anyone. “I can’t really explain that without talking about my mother.”

  Hollen watched as she ran a hand down her braid only to pick at the frayed ends.

  “Marcus Fury had many affairs before the queen. To my knowledge, they started almost immediately after he married. Rosalie Fury was a jealous woman with few options for recourse.”

  Joselyn’s voice was a monotone drone. She recited her family’s history as though she were reading from an obscure tome. “So, she took revenge on her husband in the vilest manner she could think up.” Joselyn swallowed and forced herself to meet Hollen’s eyes. “She hired an apothecary to clear her womb of heirs. Every time Marcus’ seed took root, she had it evacuated.”