Page 5 of A Light So Blinding
They were talking about him as though he couldn’t understand them. As though he wasn’t evenreal. He hated them. Hated every single human who had ever stepped foot in this room, and someday, he would kill all of them.
Then a voice. A cool splash of water that eased the rage inside his chest. A promise of quiet and solace that made even the raging beast inside of him pause and look around.
“My lord,” she said, her voice so quiet he didn’t think anyone other than him and the man she spoke to could hear her. “Surely you have more important things to do. Cruelty is beneath someone of your station.”
Bjorn wanted to tell her cruelty was why these men were here. There wasn’t a single person in this room who wasn’t walking a knife’s edge between masochism and sadism.
But then Harwick, the man he wanted to kill, snorted. “So you’ll break the rules of speaking for an animal, Priestess? How curious. You think you could control him?”
“I think anyone would react better to kindness than threats of death.”
“Prove it, then. You think you can make this beast calm? Then do it.”
No. No, he was a risk. No one should come anywhere near him. Hadn’t she heard of what he had done to so many women who’d been gifted to him?
Bjorn shook his head like a bear, trying to piece together the truth in his mind, rather than what they had told him. The rumors were that he killed women, and he did. But only because they had asked him to. They’d begged him to kill them because of what their life had been. Not because he enjoyed killing them. That wasn’t who he was. He didn’t hurt women, not maidens, not wives.
Then, a woman stepped in front of him, and he was blinded by her beauty. Golden hair fell straight down to a silver dress that left little to the imagination. It clung to her shoulders by what looked like only pearls, each of them in little clusters that held the sheer fabric slinking down her body. More pearls concealed most of her form, but it showed just as much. Tucked into a tiny waist, caressing flared hips, and stroking legs that were so long it made his head spin.
She wore a mask dotted with pearls that covered her face from the eyes down, but he could stare into that ice-blue gaze forever.
“Princess?” he croaked, the rage disappearing into shock as she looked up at him.
“No,” she murmured quietly, clearly not wanting anyone to overhear her. “A fair lookalike, though.”
She lifted a cup to his mouth, and he didn’t think. He just drank. This was likely how they poisoned him, getting rid of him for good in a show that was embarrassing. He’d never join his ancestors if he died like this, but... He drank.
It was cold, clear water. Crisp as a mountain spring, fresh as the first snow melting from the peaks. He drained the cup that she offered, desperate for the relief of water that wasn’t collected from condensation in his room or dirtied by the hands of so many other fighters in the labyrinth that it was more mud than liquid.
Then a hand. A chilly hand pressed against his cheek as she took the cup away. “I’m sorry they’ve done this to you. You deserve better.”
“It is my life, bright one.” His breathing was ragged even to his own ears. The common tongue. So he did remember it after all.
He could see clearly again. No more red. No more anger. Just her. He could see the difference from the princess now. This woman had hollows under her eyes, and her gaze wasn’t icy blue but more cerulean, like a calm lake on a quiet day. Her hair wasn’t the color of gold, but more like wheat.
Her soft expression wasn’t one that he’d ever seen on the princess’s features; he knew that. He’d met that witch a few times, and she enjoyed watching other’s pain, just like her father. This woman, though... Her eyes were so blue, he could feel himself drowning.
Harwick’s voice laughed, breaking through the small bubble of peace. “Look at how she toys with him! Tolly, you’ve trained her well. A priestess like that should know how to make a monster bend a knee. We could probably release him, and she’d have him wrapped right around her finger.”
“Well, you know my priestesses are always the best.”
Bjorn didn’t care to pay attention to these men. He had eyes only for the woman dripping in pearls.
“Priestess?” he asked.
“That is what they call me.”
“Why?”
Then he could feel it. The slightest pulse of magic at her touch, as her fingers slid away from his jaw, and then the magic disappeared. “That is why.”
His anger nearly came back. He could still feel the remnants of her spell, a lingering calm that she had pushed into his body without his permission. But it was more than that. She hadsought out the calm within him, the man who wanted to be in control, and she’d simply pulled that emotion to the front of his mind.
“What are you?” he asked again.
“They call us priestesses, but that is not something you need concern yourself with.” She leaned a little closer, as though proving to the people surrounding them that she wasn’t afraid of him. But then her voice, that quiet voice that was so hard to hear, murmured, “Are there other trolls looking for you?”
His entire body stiffened. He clutched the chains above him again, holding on to them harder. The sound of his squelching blood reached his ears, and he jerked the chains forward even more.
