by Denali Day
“You saved me.”
“Thank Helig.”
The truth seemed so obvious now. How could she have been so blind? He’d jumped between her and death, ready to accept the consequences. He was anything but indifferent. She clearly meant more to him than a convenient bride. She shook her head.
“I shouldn’t have run from you. I thought—” Her voice cracked. He turned his face from hers, and Colette could see that he felt as responsible for what had happened as she.
“That I was trying to keep you against your will?” Even through teeth that were gritted in pain, he managed an impish smile. “What in our history would make you think such a thing?”
Her heart cracked open and began to ache. How could she have been so foolish? What if he died? What if she had to bury him? The ache turned to a searing throb. No. He wouldn’t die. She wouldn’t let him. The bastard had promised to get her out of these woods, and she’d be damned if he got out of his oath so easily.
Her chin shot forward. “Sven, you’re going to be all right.”
“Be easy, mu hamma.” He brought a clammy palm to her cheek and, despite her anxiety, she leaned into his touch. “I might start to believe you want me to survive.”
“Only because killing you is my privilege.”
“Right.”
A smile played at his lips even as hers began to quiver. A hot tear slid down her face. He stroked it away with his thumb.
“Shh, Colette. It’s well.”
Holding pressure on the wounds, Colette resisted the urge to cover his hand with her own. “What are we going to do?”
His expression hardened. “It will come back. We have to destroy it.”
“You’ve done it before, right?”
“With help, and from my wyvern’s back.”
Colette bit her lip. “How?”
“Only two ways to kill a brujit. Pierce its heart or set it aflame.”
“What will happen if we fail?”
“We’ll die.”
That wasn’t what she meant, and he knew it. The look on his face told her he’d say nothing more on the matter, determined not to frighten her further. But hadn’t he already told her? The brujit ate its victims. If the legends were true, it did so while they still lived. Colette’s toes curled in her boots.
Swallowing, she eased his shirt back. Four angry lines drew across his ribs from one side to the other, slicing through a swath of rune-like scars. Sven was staring hard at her face, likely gauging her reaction.
“It’s going to scar.” She grimaced, thinking of the wild designs he was so obviously proud of. “Your idadi. I think it’s ruined.”
He shrugged, his expression unconcerned. “It’s only flesh, Colette.”
Only flesh. Self-recrimination boiled in her gut. Was he so determined to relieve her of guilt? Surely, he cared more than that. She looked him in the eye and opened her mouth to demand he berate her. All at once, a thought struck. Perhaps he didn’t care. Maybe to him and his people, all scars were seen as noble and honorable. Was his culture really so steeped in blood as that? Was his injury inconsequential? Was that how he viewed marking her flesh?
A question for later.
Sven reached across the dirt for his axe, seeming much more in touch with himself than he had been just minutes before. “We’re running out of time. We have to prepare.”
Colette ground her teeth, determination setting into her like ice in winter. “Tell me what to do.”
9
Colette shifted her weight against the trunk of the tree, cringing when the branch beneath her creaked.
In the clearing below, Sven’s gaze flickered to her hiding spot. He fixed her with another of the same looks he’d been giving her for the past two hours—the one that said, “Don’t you dare come out of that tree.”
She glared at him. This plan was trash. But it’d been the one he’d insisted on and the best they could come up with.
Colette squeezed the grip of her bow. Three shots. Three opportunities. The sun was setting. If the monster didn’t show soon, her chances of a clear target would go down exponentially. She twirled her lit pipe in her hand, resisting the urge to take a drag. An errant puff of smoke was all it would take to give away her position. The last of her stoutweed glowed orange inside, ready to play its part. Eventually.
Come on, you big ugly bastard. Come out where I can see you.
All she could hear was the running of the nearby stream. For once, she was comforted by the deadly silence of this part of the forest. At least they’d know if anything approached.
Colette watched as Sven leaned over the end of his axe, appearing casual. It had to be a ruse. Meant to calm her, perhaps? Then again, this wasn’t the barbarian’s first brush with monstrous creatures—though Colette had a hard time imagining worse circumstances. Still, he stood there with inhuman ease, and her admiration continued to grow.
Had she ever met a fiercer male? Not by a long shot. If she were the praying sort, she might have asked the gods for more time. A chance to discover more of him, to reveal more of herself. Were there enough hours in a lifetime?
A branch snapped from several yards away. A rush of adrenaline brought Colette’s mind and senses fully to the present.
It was here.
Her body tensed, and she forced herself to breathe as she shouldered her bow and silently withdrew an arrow. Freshly harvested tree sap glistened on the iron point, ready to burn. Not yet. She’d wait for the right shot, just as they’d planned.
Below, Sven remained stooped over his weapon, showing no signs of alarm. Colette winced at the streaks of dried blood on his shredded tunic. Could the beast smell it? Would it be driven mad with temptation? Again, she forced herself to focus, tamping down her fear for Sven. They couldn’t afford for her to panic.
Just like hunting mountain lions, Colette. It’s just like hunting.
If only the brujit were as stupid as lions. If only she cared so little for the bait.
That familiar deep trilling sounded from somewhere behind her tree. Damn it. She couldn’t see. Sven straightened now, his gaze fixing past her. With uncanny calm, he picked up his axe and, without raising it, began to walk away. He kept his eyes on what she could only assume was the monster. So steady. He was luring it, getting it within her line of sight.
Be careful, Sven.
The monster growled low, the noise stationary. It was letting Sven walk away? Did it suspect a trap? After all, it had set a trap for her.
Colette ground her teeth. She started to inch around the trunk, anxious to know exactly where it was. She stopped herself, remembering how likely she was to give herself away.
For once, Colette, follow the plan.
Sven was coming up against the creek bank now. He slowed, stopped. Waited. Colette’s skin tingled all over, her breaths coming in shallow, rapid gasps. Her palms grew slick against the shaft of her arrow.
Calm. It’s just a hunt. Just a hunt.
The tree shook, branches snapping like cracks of thunder. She dropped her pipe and arrow in a mad attempt to catch the branch in front of her for balance. The rough bark ripped her nails, but she managed to clutch it with bleeding fingers.
“Colette!”
Her head snapped down, searching for Sven, only to have her vision blocked by the pale swipe of a claw-laden hand. She screamed, throwing herself against the trunk of the tree even as the monster used the branches to swing around and face her.
Glowing eyes locked on her, and an ear-popping shriek blasted from its lipless mouth.
His rancid breath sent hair flying out of her face. Colette tucked her chin and stifled a scream. I’m going to die!
The brujit gripped an icy palm against her waist, the span of its fingers spilling over to the tree behind her.
Thunk.
The creature stiffened, shoving the air out of Colette’s lungs. It wailed as it slid out of the tree. Colette went with it. Everything was moving too fast. She shoved out her hands, despe
rate to protect her head. The brujit hit first. The impact forced its limbs loose. The hand that had broken Colette's fall popped open. She rolled across the dirt, her bow somehow remaining intact. Colette sputtered and pushed herself up from the ground.
Now Sven was grappling with the brujit. He went flying into the dirt as the creature flipped over to all fours. Sven’s axe protruded from its back, though no blood trickled from the wound. The brujit roared at the sky, and even the trees seemed to cringe away. It spun, trying to reach the axe, tearing divots into the ground with its monstrous feet.
“Colette, the fire!” Sven stumbled up and drew her long hunting knife.
Colette choked on a cry, butfished out her flint and steel and began furiously striking. A sickly sucking sound told her the axe had been removed. Would the creature throw it away? Use it? Should she be dodging even now? Without pausing, she risked a glance up. The axe was flying end over end, straight for Sven’s head. He dodged it.
The creature roared.
Her barbarian broke into a run.
No time!
Sparks jumped from the flint. Her pipe was gone. Without hesitation, Colette guided the tiny spits of flame to the end of her red-blonde braid. They caught instantly. In one fluid motion, she threw down the flint and unsheathed her dagger. The braid was severed from her head in the space of a breath. She left it burning in the dirt and shot to her feet.
Only two arrows now. Two chances. She lowered a point into the fire and nearly fainted with relief when it lit up. She brought the bow up to bear and focused on the horrific scene ahead.
The brujit was on top of Sven.
Terror shot through her body, and she released the arrow. The string slapped at her bracer as she watched the shaft zoom over the monster’s back.
Oh, gods!
She withdrew the other arrow, set it into the fire. Lining up her final shot, she watched as Sven planted her hunting knife into the hollow of the creature’s skull, causing it to rear in pain. She willed herself not to fire. Not yet.
With a roar, the creature came back to the ground and slammed its open hand against Sven’s chest. The ground shuddered beneath her feet. Another horrific shriek, this one was inches from Sven’s face.
Colette let the bowstring go.
The brujit burst into flame like a dry field in the heat of summer. It screamed, darting forward. Sven went trailing after it like a disjointed marionette, and Colette’s blood turned to ice in her veins. Her savage’s belt was caught in the creature’s stolen horns. They went careening downward, disappearing into the creek bed below.
Colette was halfway across the clearing before she realized what had happened. Sheets of water flew into the air, shrouding her view. Colette might have screamed his name, but she couldn’t hear anything over the thundering of her heartbeat. She reached the bank and tried to peer through the walls of splashing water. Even half-submerged, the brujit remained aflame. It spun and bucked, ripping Sven’s dangling body this way and that. How long would it take to die? If Sven was moving purposefully, Colette couldn’t tell. Her mind spun with horror. What could she do? Her eyes darted for the axe that lay far away.
With a screeching cry, the brujit began to slow. Blood flowed from Sven’s temple. His eyes were shut. Colette went numb but for the fear ripping at her insides. She turned, preparing to make a dash for the axe, when the monster suddenly went still. It let out a final pathetic whimper before it collapsed, its massive frame sinking beneath the surface. A limp Sven went down with it.
“No!”
All rational thought fled her mind, replaced by a single, dire purpose. She leapt over the edge. Her feet plunged through the water and bounced off the muddy ground below. With a single stride, she was soaked up to her chin. She could see the brujit’s gaunt hip as well as its antler, the wrong one, still cresting the surface. She held her breath and threw herself forward. The tips of her fingers brushed against charred bone. She clung to it, forcing her head beneath the water.
Panic seized her as the icy current rushed overhead. She kicked against the bed of the creek, inhaling a mouth full of water just before she broke the surface. She sputtered, sucking down smoky air. Her fear of the brujit supplanted, she drew her knees up and clambered up its partly submerged body. She couldn’t move. Was she paralyzed?
Get him free. Save him.
If she didn’t act now, she was going to lose him. Sven was going to die. Sucking in a breath, Colette abandoned all sense and dipped below the current. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t see. The brujit’s body was eerily distinct. She followed its limbs to its neck, its neck to its head. With a fierce tug, she withdrew her hunting knife from its eye. Keeping her hand on its skull, she resurfaced for air.
One gulp.
Back down.
She felt for Sven's thick belt, tethered to the creature's twisting horns. Better a wounded side than drowned lungs. Colette hacked at his belt, sawing through the hide. Her chest screamed for air. She ignored it. Determined. The tension vanished and, all at once, the current was pulling her savage’s body away from her. She gripped him, then pushed with all her might against the brujit.
Clinging to him, Colette kicked downstream. She kicked until her legs burned and ached. At last, they were nearing the steep bank. She put her feet down, and was shocked when they reached the bottom. She towed him to the water’s edge and hauled his body against it.
“Sven?” Her voice was hoarse and still half-flooded. “Sven, wake up!”
Blood continued to run down his face. He didn’t move. She pressed her ear against his chest and could hear nothing over the bubbling of the stream. No. He couldn’t be dead.
“Sven!” She balled a fist and struck him against the shoulder. “Get up!”
She screamed, continuing to strike him. Soon, she was unleashing a flurry of blows at him, both of her clenched hands raining down upon him. Tears warmed her cheeks. Was she going mad? Her assault devolved into slamming her entire body’s momentum against him, both forearms pounding into his chest.
A gush of water shot past his lips, his entire body curling forward. He hacked.
A startled gasp escaped Colette’s throat. In an instant, she was clutching his head, helping him turn to rid his throat of fluid. He clung to her, coughing up all but his teeth. As some of his tension eased, Colette began weeping, smoothing the hair out of his glassy eyes. “You’re alive. You’re safe.”
“Colette?” If possible, his voice was throatier than hers. “The brujit?”
“It’s dead. It’s dead.”
“Are you hurt?”
She shoved her lips against his, kissing him with an urgency that bordered on hysteria. When she pulled away, Sven was gasping for air as though he’d only just awakened. At least the color had returned to his skin. He watched her as though enthralled.
Colette pressed her forehead against his. “I thought you were gone.”
Wide eyes blinking, he brought a hand up to her face and stroked at her cheek, as though trying to comfort her. She shuddered with relief.
Gradually, Sven’s gaze darted around, clarity finally seeming to seep through. “What happened? It came after you in the tree.”
“But you stopped it.” For once, Colette hoped every bit of her awe for this man shone through. If not, she’d find another way. “You injured it. I set it aflame. That’s when our plan fell apart.”
“Why are we in the water?”
“Your belt got caught on its mask. It dragged you in trying to escape the flames.”
“You—you followed me?”
She nodded. Even the acknowledgment made her stomach sicken with dread. But she’d do it all again. Anything to save him. To keep him.
His lips parted. “But you fear water.”
At his incredulous expression, a smile eased across her lips. “Less than some things.” Like losing a man she loved, and who so obviously loved her.
“Colette?”
“Yes?”
He quirked
a brow. “What happened to your hair?”
10
Two days later.
Colette breathed deeply of the sweet, life-filled air. For the first time in days, unfiltered sun warmed her chilled skin. She turned her face up to it. When she opened her eyes, she caught Sven’s wandering gaze on her, his expression inscrutable. Her body tightened as she stared back. What would he do now?
As he’d said he would, he whistled for his wyvern. He’d been convinced it would find them again now that they were free of the forest’s oppressive shadow.
“If I were my mount, I wouldn’t land here either, even if I could hear my master’s call.”
Colette waited for him to turn his attention back to her.
“Well, little minx, we survived.”
“You sound so surprised.”
They’d made it out of the Twist. To her knowledge, almost no one else could make such a claim. Her mother would faint. Colette was ready to. Hunger gnawed at her gut, and she was sure she’d never been so cold in all her life. Thoughts of food and fire consumed her. At the moment, only one thing seemed more important. She cocked a brow at her savage.
He muttered something in his language. “Shocked is a better word.”
Shifting, she planted a hand on one hip. “Had you known me better, you could have stowed your doubt.”
“Indeed.”
They stared at one another, their unasked questions stirring between them.
Colette’s voice softened. It was low enough to draw him closer. “How will you show me your gratitude?”
“What does a lady want from a savage?”
What didn’t she want from him? With him? She turned away. A gentle breeze rolled across the grassy hills, across her neighbor’s ancestral lands that were so much like her own. Like home. Could she leave it all behind? Her father’s voice in her head reminded her that she’d be doing so regardless. No matter what. Footsteps sounded behind her. She didn’t tense when she felt Sven’s hands at her waist, didn’t pull away.
“Come with me, Colette. Be my bride.”
