Page 3 of The Stolen Bride (Kings of Fury #2)

Chapter

Three

Get Your Sneak On: More Stealth Equals Fewer Screams

–HOW TO TRAIN YOUR BERSERKER

By Elizabeth “Elle” Darcy-Bruce

“ E xcuse me? You’re keeping me?” I dropped my utensils. “For how long is this so-called keeping supposed to last? A day? Two? And why?” I threw the queries at Viktor, beyond flabbergasted, bordering on discombobulated.

He disregarded my words, because of course he did. Muttering to himself once again, or maybe to the mysterious whisperer he could no longer hear, he pulled a backpack from behind the trunk of a tree and packed up the camp, stuffing a compass, tinderbox, hatchet, sharpening stone and lantern inside. “When the Valkara calls, I come.”

That explained nothing! I pressed my hands over my churning belly. “Is she your woman or something?”

“That is my hope, yes.”

So he planned to keep me, but he was into her. Typical guy. “Go, have fun. Don’t let your nonexistent door hit you on the way out. I’ll be just fine. No worries. Okay, bye.”

He snuffed out the fire, chanting, “Find, destroy, happy. Find, destroy, happy.”

Ugh. Not this garbage. “As far as mantras go, I’ve heard better.” The sun began its descent, light fading. I didn’t know when, exactly, darkness would arrive, but it wouldn’t stop me from launching an escape.

Obviously, teaming up was a nonstarter. I wouldn’t be aiding either Malachi or Viktor, no matter what prizes they offered. At the right moment, I’d jet. The condition of my feet no longer mattered. Nor did his beast’s reaction. Both kings could get bent.

With Viktor preoccupied, I stood slowly, quietly, and backed up. Now might be the perfect opportunity to go. The king never even glanced my way. So, I did it. I spun and ran, dashing around trees. I would find a place to hide. Oh! At the top of a sturdy oak I could wait him out. Maybe he’d already forgotten I existed.

There! That one! The upper branches possessed enough foliage to cover me while notches in the trunk offered anchors for my hands and feet. Pumping my arms faster, I glanced over my shoulder. Sweet goldendoodle! No sign of Viktor. This was better than I’d hoped.

With the finesse of a child, I scaled the tree, yanking myself over different branches. My muscles strained and burned, and bark scraped my skin. A host of stinging cuts registered.

A twig snapped below as I hurled myself across an upper branch and laid as flat as possible while maintaining a firm grip on my anchor. Though I went still as a statue, my heart continued to pound.

Through the thick shield of dewy green leaves, I watched as three strangers entered the area. They varied in height, but each man bearing a similar muscle mass to my (former) captor. They’d also opted to forgo shirts, revealing tattooed torsos. Instead of leather pants, they sported loincloths. And, um, wow. Massive wings covered in black feathers tipped with gold arched over each of their shoulders.

I licked my lips. Those wings appeared rooted to their bodies by bony joints. And if berserkers were real, it made sense that turul-shifters were real, too.

Was I about to meet he who should not be mentioned? Viktor’s loved-hated enemy, Mr. Deco himself.

The middle warrior sniffed the air and grinned, unveiling a mouthful of too long, too sharp teeth. He smoothed back the strands of his yellow hair, his eyes glinting with a thousand shades of red. “She’s nearby, and she’s been with Viktor.” Like the very king he referenced, he spoke Hungarian.

So. They searched for me. Foreboding arched along my nerve endings, and there was no bottling it. I felt as if porcupine quills pressed beneath the surface of my skin, desperate to break free. Some innate instinct told me these guys weren’t interested in having a productive conversation.

Maybe I should have stuck with Viktor.

“Is she his firebrand?” another asked. “Or does the honor belong to the other?”

The firebrand thing roused my interest, but the mention of “the other” piqued my curiosity. Did Viktor have a second prisoner tucked away somewhere? If so, that person might be my ticket home. The much-desired partner to help me navigate this treacherous land.

“Doesn’t matter which is which, since they are both ours,” the blond replied, and the other two snickered. “Come out, come out, wherever you are, pretty girl,” he called. “We’re here to aid you. Save you from the big, bad feral.”

Hardly! I sensed their malevolence on a cellular level.

I stiffened as a bead of sweat or blood trickled down my temple…my cheek…and hung from my jaw. A single thought consumed me. Don’t fall, don’t fall .

But it did fall, dripping to the ground.

In unison, the trio of warriors zoomed their gazes to my tree and grinned.

“Aw,” my taunter sneered. The feathers in his wings rippled, the graceful motion filling me with unease. “Is it scared?”

I gnashed my back teeth. But, um, those wings were for sure real. Which meant the trio was indeed turul-shifters of legend.

“I suggest you move along,” I snapped with all the vim and vigor I possessed. “King Viktor is on his way. Will catch up to us any moment.”

“Even better.” The blond wiggled claw-tipped hands. “Normally I’d fly up, but today I think I prefer a slower route to build anticipation.” With a thump, thump, he embedded the nailtips in my tree’s trunk and began to climb with fluid agility.

Oh, no, no, no. He would reach me in a matter of seconds. I scrambled upright, thinking about jumping. I could hit the ground and run. Probably break an ankle, too. Not a great plan, but currently my only option.

Wait. My ears twitched, snared by the sound of a familiar growl. Viktor! My onlookers must have heard him, too. Or felt the shocking waft of aggression blanketing the area because wow! Hostility electrified the air.

The climber dropped, as the other shifters tensed and hissed. Heck, I tensed and hissed.

Whoosh! A blur whizzed into my periphery seconds before a powerful body slammed into the blond, tossing him a good distance. The shifter crashed into a tree with such force, the trunk split.

Viktor halted directly in front of the other two, and I gawked. He’d changed again, his bone structure sharper. Harsher. His irises glowed, filled with rings of glittering gold. Just as before, he’d almost doubled in size, and jagged black lines flashed beneath his skin.

He wasn’t the only one who’d changed. The shifters sprouted feathers over their skin while their noses and mouths elongated, developing into beaks.

Their transformation seemed to delight Viktor. He didn’t huff and puff, as if he’d lost control, but he did exude a savage bloodlust. “You think to touch what’s mine,” he oh, so calmly stated. Two voices poured from his mouth, one deep and husky, the other deeper and huskier.

I pressed my palms to my stomach. Was this a genuine berserkerage? It must be. Never, in all my days, had I encountered such an inhuman man. And the other guys were honest to goodness birdmen!

“Oh, I dare,” the blond bragged as he clambered to his feet. “No mercy!”

The trio dove at Viktor in unison.

Ding, ding, ding . The fight was on. Viktor didn’t budge from his spot. Just stood there and swung his arms with incredible speed, delivering one swish of his claws after another. Shifter parts flew, minus their bodies. Arms, throats. Organs. Blood sprayed and gushed as the leftovers plopped to the ground. No one got up. Or moved. Or breathed .

Bile singed my throat, my gaze jumping from macabre sight to macabre sight. The horror of it all. True death, nothing fabricated. Viktor still hadn’t budged from his spot. Only difference was, wet crimson now coated his hands.

“I told you not to run, drágá.” He didn’t glance up at me. “Come down and face your consequences. Stay up and suffer more.”

I chewed on suddenly dry lips. “You killed those men. Murdered them right in front of me.”

“Ja, and they weren’t even my first victims of the day. Come down.”

This couldn’t be a berserkerage. Not a full one, anyway. He remained aware and coherent, and I wasn’t dead. Well, not yet. Even more startling, I wasn’t afraid of him. Shocked and disgusted, yes. But not afraid.

Benjamin had nailed it. Something was wrong with my emotions.

As calm as Viktor was, I should go ahead and obey him. But I didn’t want to.

When I retained my position in the branch for several seconds, he finally flipped his attention to me. Fury swirled inside irises the same green as the Hungarian forest. The gold rings no longer blazed, allowing me to appreciate the rest of his face. He was handsome. Annoyingly so.

“Come down,” he demanded. “If not, I will fetch you.”

“Fetch me then.” If I was going to spend more time with him, and it looked like I was, I should make my boundaries known. “Until you tweak your attitude, I’m good here, thanks.” To prove my words, I got more comfortable, dangling my legs over the branch. “Besides, you shouldn’t punish me for guarding myself. That’s what you’d want your loved ones to do, right?”

He huffed and puffed big-bad wolf style. But he didn’t come get me, as threatened. He didn’t even mention the fact that I wasn’t among his loved ones. Instead, he wiped his hands on his pants as if he hadn’t a care.

Hmm. Perhaps defiance was the right MO with him. “What’s a firebrand?” Had to be a berserker thing, yet it was a term my mother had never used in her stories. And how had she known such tales to begin with? Had she believed I hailed from Malachi’s lineage? Had she hailed from his lineage? Had my birth mother? Who raised my sister? If I really had a sister. What about my dreams? What if I’d truly glimpsed the future? This situation proved stranger things were possible. But me , bow to someone like this guy? No, thanks.

Not even a whisper rose from my captor.

Fine. We’d discuss something else. “You got any more of that goat cheese? I’d be willing to share it with you out of the goodness of my heart.” Dude. No. I couldn’t be hungry again after witnessing such a slaughter. But I was.

See! This was the reason I’d been so keen to identify my birth parents. To find out why I was the way I was. And now, Malachi dangled that most enticing carrot in front of my face. But no. Absolutely not. I wouldn’t do anything to push a man into opening his life to evil. That was evil. Although, to be fair, Viktor might already qualify. Look at what he’d just done!

“Fetching time.” Without any more warning than that, Viktor slammed his body into the tree trunk.

Boom! The entire structure shook. Retaining my perch proved impossible. I careened over the edge, falling and flailing.

“Oomph!” My lungs emptied upon impact. Took a second to regain my bearings, but when I did, realization dawned. I hadn’t hit the ground; Viktor had caught me. Now he held me clutched against his powerful chest, his grip intractable.

“Making me fall isn’t exactly fetching,” I grumbled, irritated by his strength. And only irritated. Not impressed. Not even a little.

“It accomplished the same goal, didn’t it?” He strode forward, stepping on his victims, unconcerned by the disgusting squishing noises.

Well. As far as consequences went, these weren’t too shabby, really. Irritation fading, I snuggled up against him, getting more comfortable.

“Yes,” he suddenly snapped without provocation. “The only one capable of calming a sentinel from his rages. No.”

Confusion set in, and my brow wrinkled. “Um. Okay. Is this my punishment? Random word bombs?” Because I wasn’t opposed.

“With me, drágá, you will never have to wonder if you’re being punished. You’ll always know. You asked questions, I answered.”

Well. I backtracked through my earlier words to him. “So a firebrand is like a soulmate.” How intriguing and very romance novel-esque. But, uh, why did the shifters wonder if I was Viktor’s?

No. No way. Nope. That particular query wasn’t even worth considering. It was too far-fetched. Besides, the shifters had mentioned “the other,” another candidate in the running for such an…illustrious title. The Valkara, I’d bet.

“A firebrand is more than a soulmate. She rouses the world’s most powerful force in her sentinel.”

Let me guess. “His immortal strength?”

“His unwavering, unbreakable, incorruptible love. ”

Aaah. Only something I’d craved my entire life! Viktor must crave it too. I detected a note of longing in his voice.

Bit by bit, my ability to breathe returned. Not exactly a development in my favor. I inhaled the most intoxicating scent: pine needles from ancient woods interwoven with forest dew and dried honeysuckle. Mmm. Surely all that goodness didn’t come from him.

Focus . “How do firebrandless berserkers stay calm?”

He glided his tongue over his teeth. “They consume an herb, and it keeps them cold.”

Hello! Problem, meet solution. “You should do that.”

“I’m too strong for it. Nothing works on me.” He waggled his jaw. “However, since meeting you, I haven’t neared a rage.”

He must be kidding. “You seemed to be on the cusp multiple times. Although, yes, you’re calm now.” Maybe too calm. “What happened?” A roundabout way of asking if he believed me to be in the running for his firebrand.

“Everything and nothing.” He’d used the same tone and volume earlier, while talking to himself.

Ugh. I bet he was about to launch into another tirade.

“Find, destroy, happy.”

Yep. I did my best to lure him back into our conversation. “Where are we going?”

To my surprise, he responded in detail. “Many places. We’ll start with my army’s camp. There are certain supplies I seek to acquire.”

Oookay. Talk about a supervillain tone laden with glee, mystery and suggestion. I opened my mouth to launch into a serious grilling, but he snapped, “Be quiet. The Valkara speaks again.”

I waited, listening, but once more I heard nothing. “So, just to be clear, Valkara is the one– ”

“ The Valkara,” he corrected, a clear warning.

“Right.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. Lord, help me. “She’s the one speaking inside your head, and you want to date her.”

“She is perfection itself. Meant to be the bride of the primordial of primordials. My bride.” He tilted up an ear and scowled. “Too muffled to understand.”

His invisible, possibly nonexistent future bride. Got it. Batting my lashes at him, I said, “See Clover nod and smile as if the conversation isn’t steeped in absurdity.”

“You are certainly bold for someone awaiting punishment for disobeying a direct order from her king, running away without permission, and endangering herself.”

Cold infiltrated my veins, an icy tide that raised my hackles. “I’m your captive , bud. Not an old friend or new crush or even a tolerated acquaintance. If anything, you should punish yourself for ever expecting me to obey your commands.”

“But I won’t,” he said, almost pleasant now. “You alone will bear the brunt of my irritation.”

Okay, that was my cue to stage another escape. This time, I wouldn’t fail.

I geared up to slam an elbow into his nose, only to notice we approached a strange glittery wall of air. The corners of my mouth turned down. What the– Dizziness struck the moment Viktor sailed through it. A shock, yes, but the greater shock happened when my vision straightened out. How in the world…

A massive campground stretched before us, the air filled with sounds of clashing swords and pained grunts as hundreds of soldiers trained for battle. An equal number of tents dotted the forest floor. Some warriors competed in an open field, their shouts, calls and trash talk accompanying the rhythmic thud of booted feet hitting the ground as still others marched about. A handful of women in old-fashioned frocks performed the fine art of cooking. The scent of roasting meats mingled with smoky campfire, and my stomach rumbled. Nearby, a blacksmith hammered a sword.

As soon as people noticed Viktor and I, every man and woman in the area stopped what they were doing mid-motion. Bows and nods of greeting abounded, as did gaping. Didn’t take long to feel as if the heat of a thousand suns spotlighted me.

A beautiful, bearded man with hair the color of a sandy beach and muscles galore rushed over. He said nothing as he kept pace at our side.

In my current position, I was eye level with his torso. What looked to be hundreds of different images covered his skin. From flowers to weapons to household items such as teacups and chairs.

“You’re here,” the newcomer said in Hungarian.

“Find, destroy, happy,” the king muttered.

Groan. I craved information, and there was no way to get it if he kept getting lost in his head. On the other hand, he would never remember my punishment in this state.

But on the other other hand, he was currently my only ally amid a horde of what I assumed were immortal berserkers. Not that he was my ally. Still. He’d protected me once. Why not again?

In an effort to snap him out of it, I gently patted his stubbled cheek. “Hey. Snarls. I’d love an introduction to our newcomer.”

“This is Prince Boldizsár. Or Bodi,” he grumbled without dishing a rebuke for my forwardness. “Bodi, this is my prisoner. Mine!” he added with gusto, squeezing me tight.

Don’t roll your eyes again . “So you’re brothers,” I said. They didn’t look alike, though they did possess a very similar eye color.

Viktor pursed his lips. “Princes are chosen for might, not blood.”

Intriguing. A berserker fact my research hadn’t revealed.

The newcomer missed his next step, his attention riveted on the motion of my hand–eek! I’d kept my palm pressed against Viktor’s cheek, absentmindedly stroking the pads of my fingers over his beard stubble.

“You found a female in the forest, majesty?” The prince shook his head, as if he needed a reboot. “And you kept her alive?”

“I told you. She is my prisoner. My exclusive property. Anyone who dares to touch her will learn the true meaning of suffering.”

Now that was a plan I could support. I smirked at Bodi. “Yeah. What he said.”

The prince blinked with surprise. “I will ensure word spreads, majesty. But if I may be so bold, who is she? Other than your prisoner and exclusive property, of course.”

Viktor’s hold on me tightened once again. “The more time I spend with her, the more certain I am that she’s the one I’ve been searching for.”