Page 27 of Vow of the Undead
I returned his sharp gaze, eyes narrowed.
Lifting his hand, he snaked it around to the back of my head and pulled me to him. His lips brushed my ears as his breath touched my neck. “I know you’ve fought back before.”
My skin went alight with hundreds of goosebumps. I fought back only with Astrid and Sten.There’s no way he knows.
“Where is that fire now?” he asked. “Show me.”
Breath was suddenly scarce. I could not drag enough air into my lungs, and I did not fight back.
In the last moments of my life, I refused to succumb to the corruption that poisoned me. Even if the witch’s death was an injustice, even if I shouldn’t be beheaded for merely stopping Ragna. In fact, Isavedthe king. If she’d brought that rock down on his skull, he would be lame, if not dead.
“You will show him the fire when you burn him, Huntress.”The voice’s sharp tone sent a shudder through me.
King Drakkar pulled back and scanned me. His icy gaze flashed with something akin to suspicion. It vanished as quickly as it’d appeared.
He swallowed hard and his tone came out more ragged, heavier. “Show. Me.”
I wasn’t going to be selfish now when the gods, Hel and Freya and Odin’s Valkyries were each waiting to decide where I’d spend my eternity. Surely, Hel would claim me, but my death didn’t have to be entirely dishonorable.
I lifted my chin and his eye dropped to my lips.
He grabbed my jaw, his fingers pressing into the soft spot of my cheek. “Pretty witch you are. Come on, Silver. Show me you’re scared. Show me your fury.”
When my mouth twitched, he stared at it again.
I smelled the smoke of cut oak burning in a fire. I felt my heavy braid trailing down my back. I saw the fjords in the king’s eye. I heard his unsteady breathing, as if I had somehow ignitedhisnerves.
I did not give in.
“Good girl,” he finally breathed. His fingers clamped around my wrist while his other hand found my waist. He stood, guiding me to my feet with him.
I’d stayed calm. For once, I’d kept the darkness at bay and for this, the king rewarded me. Even though I’d refused his commands, he rewarded me.
He called off the Grimward and walked me toward the camp. I should have been thankful, and eager to serve him even, but I had no appreciation, no love or loyalty to the man who’d exiled my mother.
He sanctioned the witch hunts. If it weren’t for him, Ragna would be at home by Alva’s side.
Death would not greet me today, but a new hatred for King Drakkar flourished in my veins, because he’d tried to bait my corruption to the surface, and I’d spent years carefully burying it like a box covered in chains, only for him to recognize it and play with the lock.
And even though he did not have the key, he’d enjoyed taunting me.
Only hours after the witch’s execution, a storm rolled in. The heavy rain washed her blood away by the next twilight when we woke to continue traveling.
Though I rode with King Drakkar like both his chosen prize and his prisoner, tethered with a sea knot around my wrists, he rarely spoke to me.
Hardly anyone spoke at all.
When I told the king he was damning every exile to their death, he only grunted like the animal he was. And then when I switched to asking what purpose the weakened exiles would serve on ships bound to explore beyond Vylheim, he demanded I stop talking about the exploration.
It was the only time I witnessed a flash of anger across his arrogant face.
All wild thoughts of convincing the king and his council to call off this exploration diminished. They wouldn’t listen, and daring to defend the witches exiled to the wasteland would only put another target on my head before I had a chance to save them.
My only option was Freya’s suggestion.
Find the lost history.
Show the people of Vylheim.
