Page 29

I turn my head, making Fafnir growl as he tries to keep me tucked tightly under his chin.

The enigmatic older female’s horns are long while other females keep theirs short, a sign of her status.

She’s standing now, my pregnancy pen gripped in her hand.

When I turn my attention to the guard, he’s grinding his teeth so hard I worry they’ll snap, a small blade sticking out of his left arm.

Oh shit.

“Ogarrex, you are dismissed. Release Fafnir, now .”

The chains slap to the ground loudly, but not loud enough to miss the way his flesh squelches when they pull the spears free. He doesn’t hesitate, gathering me in his arms. Lording over me as if to keep the others at bay. I give him a watery smile. “It’s going to be alright.”

Another deep sob gathers in my throat. Fafnir’s mate .

I’m Fafnir’s mate.

I get to keep them, both of them. At least for now.

The delicate thud of hooves only barely drags our attention from one another.

The way he stares at me tells me he’s thinking the same thing.

When his mother offers me the pregnancy pen, her hands are steady, as if they’ve never dared to shake before.

“This changes nothing. Surely you understand.

Accommodations will be made to support the two of you until the kit is born, but—" she takes a deep breath. “You’ve killed many Fafnir.”

“Every death was justified.” He seethes.

I’m surprised when she nods in agreement. “It would be easier, different had so many not seen.”

Seen his eyes, she means.

“While you seem to hold an unnatural level of control over your berserker, over this… sickness , we’ve all witnessed the progression.”

He stands, taking me with him, and again I’m awed by my giant horned alien. He must be in agony; you’d never know it if you couldn’t see the wounds. “I will kill more if it is necessary. I will leave not a soul in this village untouched if you try to remove my mate from me. Not even you, mother .”

Tears spring to my eyes, my heart uncaring if that wasn’t the most intelligent move given our situation.

The Bhaurnul people are different though, they speak in terms of violence.

When I turn away from my mate to face her, where I expect to see horror, rage even…

there is only respect and a deep, unending well of sadness.

“She will not be taken, so long as you are you .

If the day comes when you fear you will no longer be, I expect you to do the honorable thing.

War madness will come, and when it does—" I barely stifle my gasp as she removes the long wooden pin in her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders, revealing the half bald, scarred top of her head.

Toward the front is a deep divot, like her head had been terribly gored there.

Her eyes meet mine with her chin high, her next words said aloud but for me alone.

“When it does , the love you feel for her will not be enough to cool the rage. You will forget her face as you maim it.”

He nods, and my heart sinks deeper yet. This impasse is only a bandage for the gnarled, festering wound that lingers under my relief.

“Ogarrex will remain your guard. He is the strongest amongst us. Aside from your mate . You will have him until after the kit’s weaning period and no more. You are favored in Valhyr’s eye, he has blessed you in ways our people have longed for, for one too many spans. Savor it, then wander.”

“And my mate, after I am gone? ”

“Wait,” I interject, fussing until I’m lowered to my own two feet. “What does wander mean? Gone how , like sent away? I will go with you, Fafnir.” I hate it. How pitiful I sound even to my own ears, like I’m clinging to sand that won’t stop rushing through my fingers.

They ignore me, both of them, only Fafnir giving me a warning look that says, not now .

Her aged eyes level me, I hold her gaze as best I can, but I’m tired.

My head is swimming, and everything hurts.

“She is only human in form. I suspect she is more Bhaurnul than even some of us. It takes a lot… to do what she has done tonight. Valhyr has given you a lovely mate. She will always have a home here, if that is what she chooses.”

Emotion seizes my chest, and oh god, I’m hanging on by a thread.

When she steps forward, it’s with a small smile. The female kneels, pressing her palm to my flat stomach. “Shorra'vul,” she whispers and without another word and a curt nod, she stands and leaves.

“What does that mean?”

“It is a blessing of sorts; she wished the kit well.”

The next hour is a blur in my mind, and seen through eyes that refuse to stop producing tears.

My arm is tended by a healer. The stitches nearly make me black out.

Apparently, the Bhaurnul doesn’t widely use automatic healers…

or pain medicine. I cringe to think what that means for the birth of this baby.

Soon enough, we’re mounted on the back of Val, and I fall asleep, safe in my mate's arms, before we make it past the opening of the glacier rocks.