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

by Denali Day

  She was going numb. Her feet. Her hands. Her mind.

  Darkness. Soon there was only darkness.

  A knock at the door.

  Joselyn’s eyes grated open. She felt as though the mountain itself had fallen on her chest. She tried to scream, but could only cough. She kicked out her limbs, and the tinkling of glass drew her gaze out to the side. Something had shattered, and she was laying in it. Or it was laying on her. Her body was heavy and wet.

  A wave of vertigo hit her as she lifted her head. When the room stopped spinning, she saw him. Dante Viridian was lying atop her. Dead. His lifeless green eyes stared up at the wall behind her.

  She jolted, flying the rest of the way up and shoving to roll him off. He slid off her with a sticky thud, and Joselyn whipped over to vomit. The bite of jagged glass dug into her open palms as she heaved onto carpeted stone.

  Another knock, this one much louder.

  “Milord? Milady?” A voice called from the other side of the chamber door.

  A sob escaped her lips as Joselyn pulled her knees up to her chest. She tried to rise. The smell of salt and iron hit her like a slap, and she had to wait until her stomach relaxed to try again. From throat to toe, Joselyn was covered in Dante Viridian’s blood.

  Another knock.

  Her knife lay a foot away. Joselyn snapped it up. The leather-wrapped hilt almost slipped from her blood-soaked hand. She stumbled to her feet.

  She was just straightening when the metallic scrape of a key turned in the door lock.

  The wooden door cracked open.

  Joselyn brought the knife up to bear, not thinking through what she would do with it. A white head of hair popped through the door.

  The old maid who’d walked away earlier peered in from the narrow opening. Her gaze fell to where Dante lay curled on the blood-stained floor. Her eyes narrowed, then skirted up to Joselyn.

  Joselyn opened her mouth, but words evaded her. She coughed instead, aware of how loud the rattling was. A splash of cold panic coated her insides. Beads of sweat broke out across her body.

  The old woman blinked once, then took a step into the room and closed the door behind her.

  “Well little bird, you’ve certainly got your wings in a snare.”

  Joselyn stared back, dubious. The old woman’s scrutiny caused Joselyn to look down at her own blood-drenched figure. The fine blue fabric of the gown was totally shredded. Joselyn’s hair stuck to her body, redder than ever. She looked back up.

  “Please. Help me.” Her voice was hoarse, broken.

  The maid pursed her lips and put a wrinkled hand on her hip. “It appears I must,” she said, with a shake of her head.

  Joselyn stood there, small and helpless. She would have fallen to the ground weeping if Dante’s corpse hadn’t claimed the area.

  The woman took a step toward Dante and spat on his lifeless face. With a mild look she held a wrinkled hand to Joselyn. “Why don’t you put the knife down, and Old Bess will see what she can do for you.”

  40

  For the Love of a Savage

  Old Bess was the former nursemaid to the father of Lord Arland himself. As such, she knew more about Castle Arland and enjoyed more privileges than any other member of the household staff. On their way out the door, she’d kicked Dante’s corpse and muttered, “Reap what you sow, Viridian spawn.”

  Clad in the garb of a kitchen wench, Joselyn followed the old woman through a darkened corridor at what she imagined was the periphery of the castle. A candle was all that lit their way as they descended a narrow staircase obviously intended only for servants.

  Bess held up a hand, bidding Joselyn to wait as she tapped open the door at the bottom of the stairwell. After confirming no one was about, she took Joselyn by the hand and they crept into the same hall Dante had led her through just an hour before. They were about to round the corner that led to the lower level stairs when Bess pulled her into a darkened alcove.

  “Now, you wait here while I send the guards off. You remember the way out?”

  Joselyn nodded. She was panting, and the sound of her own pulse seemed loud enough to give them away.

  “What will happen if they discover you helped me?”

  Bess scoffed. “They won’t.”

  Joselyn blinked, amazed by the old woman’s confidence. By her courage.

  “I can’t repay you.”

  “Hush, child, I’m not doing this for you.”

  Joselyn didn’t know what to make of that and didn’t have time to ask.

  Drawing a deep breath, Bess sighed. Her shoulders slumped as she stepped away from Joselyn and rounded the corner.

  The old woman spoke to the two guards who kept post at the stairs. Her words were hushed and unclear. Joselyn jumped when the two men walked right past her hiding spot, back toward the grand foyer.

  Silence. Joselyn closed her eyes and peeked around the corner. There were the stairs, but no one was in the hall. No guards. No Bess.

  Joselyn tiptoed her way along the wall. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and Joselyn glanced back the way she’d come. Nothing. She swung her head back toward the stairs but hesitated.

  Across the corridor, Joselyn caught her reflection in a wall-mounted looking glass.

  She and Bess had done their best to scrub the blood from her skin and hair, but in their rush, they’d done a poor job. Patches of crimson still caked her hairline. A smudge or two crossed her deeply bruised neck.

  She gave herself a good look. No matter. It wasn't the first time she’d been covered in blood. As Saliga of Bedmeg, it wouldn’t be the last.

  The fire was inside him. Inside his head. In the brief moments he’d been conscious, Hollen hadn’t been able to escape it.

  He opened his eyes. His eye.

  The single remaining torch was close to burning out. When it did, he’d be in total darkness. Hollen welcomed it. Perhaps he could fool himself into believing he was in his bok. That Joselyn was safe in his arms instead of the clutches of a sadistic demon.

  The sight of that man brushing his fingers along Joselyn’s cheek, his cruel threats. Hollen wanted to kill him. Unlike that bastard, Hollen would do so quickly, whether he deserved it or not. Every moment he breathed was a moment Joselyn would suffer.

  She was suffering now. Lying beneath him, or bent before him while he did whatever he wanted with her body. He tried not to, but Hollen’s mind imagined her crying out, struggling, trying to get free. Or worse, quietly withstanding whatever she was given, knowing it would be Hollen who paid the price if she didn’t.

  The Viridian lord was the man Joselyn had been so desperate to leave him for. What irony. She’d escaped Bedmeg, only to end up with both of them. For as long as he lived, she’d endure one husband using the other against her. Fate could be cruel.

  He’d failed. Failed his clan, his brothers, his bride, himself. Now the only thing left was the misery. And there was plenty to be had.

  Every muscle in his body ached. He’d been cuffed to this wall for a day and a night, taken down only intermittently by the guards to keep his arms from dying for lack of blood. His throat was hoarse with thirst. Regna, he was thirsty. And cold. Hollen could almost laugh. Atop his snow-blown mountain, he'd never been cold.

  Through the bars and past the door, Hollen heard the sound of footsteps. His head came up, waiting to see what fresh hell would enter the room. The door needed straightening. It scraped loudly against the cobblestone floor.

  Hollen squinted with his remaining eye, trying to focus in the dim light.

  How?

  His bride squeezed past the door, her gaze stuck on the floor. She winced at the noise she’d made. She’d changed into a simple brown dress.

  Hollen tensed as he looked past her. Was he with her?

  “Joselyn?” he murmured.

  “I’m coming,” came her whispered sob. She sprinted up to his cell door and began working at the lock.

  Hollen’s breathing picked up. Adrenaline poured
into his deadened limbs. Without thought, he strained against his cuffs. The helplessness was painful. He glanced back at the cracked door. He needed to know what was happening. If she was in danger or not. “Joselyn.”

  “Shh! Hollen,” she hissed. Her voice bordered on frantic.

  After another moment, the door swung open. Joselyn slipped into his cell. At once, her hands were upon him.

  “Hollen!” She choked, pressing her mouth into his throat. Her hot tears ran down his skin.

  “Mu hamma,” he whispered, wanting more than anything to wrap his arms around her. “What’s happening?”

  She pulled away, and Hollen’s stomach clenched. There was dried blood in her hair, on her face, and who knew where else? “What did he do?”

  Joselyn sucked in a breath “Nothing. He’ll never do anything again.”

  He was dead. Hollen knew it. He didn’t have to ask. Later, when they were both safe, he would find out what had happened after she’d been dragged away. For now, Hollen only knew he must get Joselyn free of this wretched place.

  “Can you open it?” Hollen looked at the cuffs.

  He had no word for the metal stick she pulled out of her dress, but Hollen knew it was what opened doors and cuffs. She freed his right arm first. It fell limply to his side, and the weight of it jerked him downward. The next one sent him sliding to the ground.

  He tried to get up, but his arms wouldn’t move. He couldn’t even use one hand to rub life into the other. They were useless.

  Joselyn fell to her knees before him. Taking his face in her hands, she pressed her mouth to his. Hollen tasted the salty tears on her lips.

  “Hollen I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” She was trembling.

  “There’s nothing to forgive, mu hamma.”

  “I didn’t leave you. I swear I didn’t. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

  “Shh.” He leaned his face into hers.

  Sniffing, Joselyn drew back and regarded him with agonizing emotion. “I have to get you out of here. Come. Come on.”

  Joselyn pulled up on his arm. She seemed to notice the dusky pallor. At once, she was massaging up and down his arms, trying to revive them. He groaned. He’d be little use if they were attacked. They didn’t have time for this. She didn’t have time.

  “You must go, Joselyn. Leave now, before someone finds us.”

  “I’m not going anywhere without you,” she hissed.

  “I can’t . . .I can’t protect you. You have to—”

  “Be quiet!” Even whispering, her voice was forceful. He couldn’t sit here and do nothing.

  Inhaling, he mustered all his will. With his knees, Hollen pushed backward, trying to walk himself up the stone wall. He managed, just as the first flashes of agony seared in his wakening arms.

  “I know a way out. Can you walk?”

  Hollen gritted his teeth and pressed an arm against the wall to push himself forward. His first step nearly sent him to the floor. His second and third were more promising. “I can walk.”

  And that’s likely all I can do.

  Joselyn took his hand. He looked at her, and was disturbed at how far he had to turn his head to do so. The left field of his vision was gone. Hollen couldn’t imagine what he looked like, but his bride wasn’t gaping in horror at him. Something far more painful was etched in her eyes.

  Shame.

  They may have only moments, but Hollen used his free hand to pull her clumsily into himself. She was no bigger than before, but Hollen could feel something had changed in his bride. She was at once stronger and more vulnerable than she’d ever been. He buried his face in her hair. A strong floral scent, not at all like his Joselyn, filled his nose. He remembered where they were.

  “We have to get out of here, mu hamma.”

  Joselyn stiffened, then pulled away. “Follow me.”

  They both cringed as she eased the dungeon door wide enough to let Hollen through. The scraping boomed and echoed down the stone corridors. When no footsteps could be heard, they crept out of the room Hollen had thought never to leave.

  They had no torch. The halls, which felt more like tunnels, were completely dark. Hollen kept one hand on Joselyn and another on the wall as they went. All the while, he listened to his bride counting under her breath.

  “ . . .three, four, left.”

  They turned a corner.

  “One, two, three…”

  Who’d given her directions? How had she escaped to begin with? He hated walking behind her. Instinct told him to push her aside and take the lead, so that he might protect her from any attack. At least his body would provide some cover. But he had no idea where they were going. At the moment, time was their most precious resource.

  Finally, they came to a stop.

  “This is it.” Her hand felt along the wall for something.

  Hollen stuck out his own arm. They were at a door. “You’re sure?”

  There was a pause. “I’m sure.”

  Helig, let her be right.

  Joselyn grunted as though she were pulling hard on something.

  “It’s stuck!” Panic filled her hushed voice. “Or maybe…locked?”

  Hollen followed her arm to where she was holding the door. He brushed her aside. With all his remaining strength, he yanked backward. The door popped open, and a whistle of air blew past them into wherever the door led, sucking it shut. Hollen just barely managed to keep it from slamming closed again.

  “Go!” he said, and Joselyn slipped through.

  The sound of an opening door made Hollen whip right. A torch-carrying guard peeked out. His eyes scanned the opposite end of the hall. Hollen strained against the weight of the door. If he tried to slip through, the alarm would be raised before he and Joselyn could make their full escape. There was only one choice. He released it.

  The door slammed shut and the guard jerked around just in time to see Hollen barreling toward him. He opened his mouth to scream, but Hollen wrapped his arms around the smaller man’s head. The torch clattered to the ground, and the guard’s arms went wild. He tried to punch and scratch, but he was blind against his assailant’s chest. Hollen gave a sharp twist against the man’s flailing body. The guard continued to squirm. He’d failed to break his neck.

  With a curse, Hollen changed tactics and slammed the guard hard into the brick wall. He threw his entire weight into the attack, hopeful at the crunching sound the other man’s bones made. At last, the guard went limp. Hollen released him and he crumpled to the floor. He might still be alive. Regardless, he wouldn’t be raising any alarms.

  Hollen wanted to rest, but knew better than to slow down now, while his panicky instincts were still lending him strength. He leapt back to the door and hauled it open just wide enough to squeeze through. Though it might have been too late for stealth, Hollen applied counterpressure to keep the door from slamming. With every muscle in his body flexed, he allowed the door to gently reseal itself.

  “Hollen!” Joselyn threw her arms around him.

  Hollen leaned panting into the door as a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him. Praise Helig his bride hadn’t seen what he just did. He never wanted Joselyn to see him like that. Never again. His body was screaming in pain. They were running out of time. He was working on pure adrenaline and, very soon, he would collapse. He had to get Joselyn out before then.

  Dirt.

  Hollen flexed his numb toes. They weren’t walking on sanded stone anymore. Wherever his hamma had taken them, it was a good deal more primitive. Hope surged to life within him. Perhaps they wouldn’t meet their ends in this cursed place after all.

  They hurried along the narrow path. Some places were so tight Hollen had to turn sideways to squeeze through. He managed. The temperature remained steady, so it was a shock when they made their way up a steep incline only to find themselves beneath the open, winter stars.

  Joselyn started to walk on, but Hollen caught her by the wrist and pulled back. His voice came out labored. “Do you know wher
e we are?”

  Joselyn turned and regarded him with worried eyes. “In the forest, just north of the castle.”

  Hollen shut his eye with relief. Jagomri would be nearby. He hoped. His mount had fled from the volleys of arrows the soldiers had fired in his direction. In their minds, Hollen had been a mere secondary threat. For once, Hollen couldn’t blame his steed for his uselessness.

  “I’m taking you back to Bedmeg.”

  “How?” she asked with disbelief.

  Despite everything, part of him still wondered if this was where his bride wanted to be. Not here, exactly, but was she really ready to call Bedmeg her home?

  Just focus on getting her to safety.

  “We have to get away, somewhere they won’t hear me calling Jagomri.”

  “He survived?”

  Hollen grimaced. “What was your plan if not?”

  “To get to the next village.” By the light of the stars, Hollen could see her head shaking. “But now I doubt you’d make it.”

  She could tell how weak he was. Hollen cursed. If she could sense it, others could, too. They had to get out of here. Fast.

  “Let’s go.” He stepped barefoot into the snow.

  His bride, at least, was properly clothed. She led him by the hand. The force of her pulling kept him focused. He was Hollen the Soulless, and it would take more than cold to kill him. That didn’t stop his legs from going numb.

  When they’d been walking for the better part of an hour, she turned and asked, “Is this far enough?”

  “Let’s hope.” Hollen put his head back to the sky and pursed his frozen lips together. His whistle echoed through the forest and off the distant mountain wall, causing them both to cringe.

  The sound of a hooting owl broke the ensuing silence.

  “Come on,” he said through chattering teeth.

  They kept moving. They went on for so long Hollen wasn’t certain if they still moved to find Jagomri, or if it was to keep from dying. At least his head didn’t pain him anymore, though his throat was drier than ever. He was slowing down. Joselyn was supporting him now, or trying to. To be of any true help, he’d have to give her more of his weight than she was capable of carrying. They went on like that. with Hollen occasionally whistling for his mount. The bastard was probably sleeping. The idea held significant appeal.