Page 5 of The Stolen Bride (Kings of Fury #2)
Chapter
Five
See Beyond What You See: When Your Berserker Does Tricks, Dish Treats
–HOW TO TRAIN YOUR BERSERKER
By Elizabeth “Elle” Darcy-Bruce
V iktor dumped me on the pallet of furs for the second time that day and paced. Back and forth, back and forth, agitated but no longer verging on violence or muttering. Rather, he remained silent, which wasn’t much better.
At least his size returned to “normal.”
As I watched him and waited for the food to arrive, my eyelids grew heavy. Guess the emotional highs and lows, unmitigated stress, constant stream of uncertainty, and mystery drugs had caught up with me.
I fought the fatigue with every fiber of my being, refusing to fall asleep in Viktor’s presence. Although, if I was his firebrand, I was probably safer with him than anyone else in the world. According to everything I’d read in my studies, berserkers protected what they considered theirs. Proof: look how fervently King Tor had warned his own second-in-command to keep his hands off the royal prisoner. Also, notice how quickly Viktor had ceased raging when I showed up on the scene.
Maybe Prince Bodi wouldn't be so swift to threaten me now. For the time being, I had a bit of power and influence over his sovereign. Except. The Valkara. She threw a wrench in my assurance.
But. Ugh. There was also my reoccurring dream to consider. How I could’ve seen into the future, I didn’t know. If I was, in fact, Viktor’s firebrand, he might, just might, be the warrior I pledged to serve. But seriously, me, kneel before him? I still wasn’t a fan of the idea. And I didn’t even know what “the greater good” was. I did know it wasn’t a double chili cheeseburger with a mix of onion rings and french fries, ranch dip on the side.
Dang it, where was the food? My body was probably already eating itself!
I needed a distraction. Again and again, my attention returned to the pile of instruments. My fingers itched to play. Finally I succumbed to temptation, clambered to my feet, and walked to the prized violin. Intricately carved swirls decorated the upper and lower boot.
As gently as possible, I seized the instrument by the neck and body, then got comfortable on the chair at Viktor’s desk to test the strings. Nice . Perfectly tuned.
After rosining the bow, I gave an experimental stroke. My lips parted as the rich, warm tone of the Stradivarius filled the tent. Never, in all my days, had I heard anything as exquisite or powerful.
Closing my eyes, I played a series of layered notes, thrilling at the harmonies. Satisfied with what I heard, I focused on the still pacing Viktor, curious to learn his reaction as I brought to life the serene melody of Bach’s Air on the G String . Would he calm as I often did?
He ground to an abrupt halt, and at first, he only gave me more scowl. But bit by bit, his expression and posture softened. Ultimately, his lids hooded, giving his entire face a seductive quality. He prowled closer to lean against the edge of the desk and savor the music.
Emboldened, I played and played and played until my body ached. Just in time to notice the sun was finishing its descent, the light in the tent dimming. When the last note faded, I breathed deep and set the instrument aside.
Viktor immediately kicked into a new pace. “Never play again,” he growled. “Tell me you understand and you will obey this order.”
What? “Why?”
“Because I said so.” Another growl.
“Why?” I demanded, unfazed.
He rubbed the center of his chest, remaining silent.
Fine. The reason didn’t matter. Better to concentrate on a subject that did matter to my continued wellbeing. Something to help me decide my next move. “Be honest. Do you believe I’m your firebrand, yes or no?”
With his back to me, he went still. The muscles between his shoulders bunched, and his hands curled into tight fists. “You shouldn’t ask such a ridiculous question. The answer is nem. Absolutely not.” He responded in heavily accented English, and I realized I’d asked in my native tongue. “There’s no chance. None. Not even the slightest possibility. If ever I’m tied to another, it will be the Valkara.” Tension blasted from him, and he snapped, “But maybe.”
Aaah! He’d all but admitted it. A part of this slightly insane royal berserker who’d maimed members of his own army for a completely irrelevant motive–just a guess on my end–believed I could be his soulmate. His fated companion. The one he was destined to love, the most powerful force on earth.
I might be the only person in any world with an innate ability to calm him.
Of course, in no way, shape or form did I reciprocate. King Viktor Endris might see me as a possible soulmate, but I didn’t view him in the same vein. I believed in the power and necessity of love, yes. And I concurred with his assessment that it was a force unlike any other. Powerful yet sweet. Healing. But I wanted what my parents enjoyed.
They had loved each other without reservation, building each other up, never tearing down. And, as Benjamin had taught me, gifting your affections to the wrong person brought only pain. You gave, they took. You encouraged, they destroyed. Been there, done that. Never again.
The entrance whisked aside, and Bodi strode into the tent. A pair of metal shackles rested in his hands. “I apologize for the delay, Majesty. We doctored the cook and his crew, and they are back in action, preparing the requested feast. I’ve also found the Bracelets.”
You’re kidding me . I popped to my feet and shook my head, locks of hair slapping my cheeks. “Hear me now, Viktor. All bets are off if you try to bind me.”
“Majesty?” the prince insisted.
Viktor adopted a crouching position, as if he planned to leap onto his soldier and rip off the man’s head with his bare hands. Snarls rumbled in his chest, and claws grew from his finger tips. “You heard her. She refuses. Toss the Bracelets.”
Oh, yeah. I was his firebrand all right, on a ring of higher importance than the Valkara, who wasn’t. A full-wattage smile bloomed. Smirking, I told Bodi, “Be a good boy and obey your king.” For good measure, I flipped my braid over my shoulder. Bravado was a language this man understood. “In case I wasn’t clear, take the handcuffs and go.”
The prince glanced between us before offering a stiff nod and striding out.
That worked? I mean, sweet! That totally worked.
In an instant, Viktor calmed again. Seeming to forget the entire incident, he kicked into another pace.
What an interesting day this had turned out to be.
Little time passed before the entrance was moved aside once more. I braced for Bodi’s return. Instead, a young soldier carried in a tray of food. Finally! From the looks of it, I’d be dining on hearty stew and crusty bread. A meal I didn’t have to peel, cut or cook. Bowls I didn’t have to wash, dry and put away. Yes, please and thank you.
The perks of being the berserker king’s firebrand were kind of fantastic.
The soldier never glanced in his king’s or my direction. Just placed the tray on the desk and rushed out.
“You gonna eat?” I asked Viktor.
He muttered a refusal.
His loss. I ate my fill, meaning all of it, doing my best to display a modicum of manners and not shovel in every bite. My companion provided the evening entertainment as he continued to pace, flexing different muscles. What a strange, complicated man.
When I swallowed the last sip of broth, a yawn cracked my jaw, fatigue sneaking up on me once again. I scanned the pallet of furs. Would stretching out in Viktor’s presence really be such a bad thing?
Brushing any remaining breadcrumbs from my hands, I returned to the bed. I stretched out, careful not to poke myself with the daggers hidden in my pockets.
Viktor stopped pacing and focused all his intensity on me. Or through me.
“My firebrand,” he muttered. “Beautiful. Trouble.”
Right back at you, bud . The ‘trouble’ part, I meant. And yeah, okay, the beautiful part, too. His features were way too harsh when examined one by one, but all together, they dazzled. And those muscles…
Anyway. With a little finesse, I bet I could convince him to return me to Aurelian Hills and force Malachi to share what he knew about my birth parents. If I could make the other king rue the day he’d kidnapped me, even better.
After a while, my lids drifted close, and I didn’t resist. I wouldn’t let myself fall asleep, becoming vulnerable. Rather, I’d use the time to recharge, so I’d better deal with Viktor. A quick mental and emotional reset…
I dreamed the dream.
A thick fog enveloped the night sky. Despite the haze, I had no problem detecting the stars. Perhaps because I floated in the ether without an anchor, yet somehow I also stood on solid ground. The hem of my wispy white gown billowed at my ankles.
Before me towered a shirtless warrior sculpted with a wealth of hard-cut muscle. For the first time, I saw his face, and my entire body reacted as if I’d stuck my finger into an electrical outlet. Nerve endings sang.
Viktor Endris.
He said nothing, but then, no words were needed. I knew in the depths of my being. For the greater good, I must place my life in his hands.
Some of the fog around us thinned, and I spotted the weapon he clutched. A long double-edged sword he kept pointed down.
A question drifted through my mind. Am I willing to die to save him, our loved ones and even our worlds?
Dream me rasped, “For the greater good, I will do this,” and sank to her knees.
Another first: I saw what happened next.
Dream Viktor jutted his stubborn chin and repeated my words. “For the greater good, I will do this.”
He raised the sword high in the air, as if he intended to–
Swing.
I awoke with a gasp. My heart pounded at warp speed. I was panting, breath sawing between my lips. Sensing a presence, I jolted upright.
Viktor sat on a trunk pulled next to the bed, twirling two daggers in his hands. Bright morning sunlight filtered through holes and seams in the tent.
I’d slept all night while a berserker played with his weapons a few feet away? Yikes.
The vestiges of the dream faded to mist, to be dissected later. Right now, the king glared bloody murder at me. I poured through my options: run, run fast or run faster.
“Don’t,” he barked, predicting my decision to go with option three. He set the weapons aside, rested his elbows on his knees, and linked his fingers.
Okay. All right. Without the blades, I didn’t mind staying put and looking him over. He’d bathed, his hair damp and his clothes clean. Today, he wore a plain black T-shirt that covered his wealth of tattooed strength. His eyes possessed no glaze or gold, and his glare became a soft stare.
Unfortunately, the lack of aggression caused me to notice details I’d previously missed. Like how long and thick his lashes were. The perfect frame for those wild green irises. His aquiline nose complimented his stubborn jaw. And his lips. Wow. They couldn’t be as luscious as they appeared. Nothing could.
My skin flushed. He was something far better than beautiful right now. He was crazy sexy hot. “Good, um, morning.”
Silent, he held my gaze, daring me to look elsewhere.
Trembling a little, I smoothed locks of hair from my face and realized I still wore my tank and shorts. But dang it, the daggers I’d stolen were missing. Well, not missing, per se. He’d been twirling them a moment ago. I recognized the carvings on the handles.
Irritation bloomed. “Are you just gonna ogle me or is there something you’d like to say?”
“After a night spent in contemplation, I have concluded you are not my firebrand,” he stated simply.
I almost snorted. “Okay, sugar pop. Whatever you need to tell yourself.” Mental gymnastics couldn’t hide the truth for long. “What’s for breakfast?”
He snapped his teeth at me. “I cannot deny your presence comes with certain…benefits.”
“Yeah, you’ve already mentioned the fog and the whispers, neither of which I understand.” But. Hmm. My dream. In it, I always dealt with a fog, too. Could our experiences be connected? “But don’t forget, I’ve seen what happens when you’re trantruming and I approach. I’m one hundred percent your firebrand.”
Shock of shocks, he let the taunt slide. “A thick, agitating fog has enveloped my mind for centuries. Some days it’s thicker than others. A necessary evil. Through it, the Valkara helps me see what I need to see. Our relationship. The future.” He paused. “The end. Does that ease your confusion?”
“Yes, thank you.” Finally! Information for the taking. “I’d argue that there’s no such thing as a necessary evil, but that’s a conversation for later.” As for his relationship, it was clear the Valkara intended to wed him, his firebrand or not. I figured the primordial of primordials was the strongest original, aka Vik, the last of them. Of course she wanted him.
So. If he wanted her too, as he claimed, why hadn’t he pulled the trigger already? “To me, you don’t exactly look helped by the fog,” I pointed out.
He inhaled with authority. “Enough about her.”
“No, not enough. As your definite firebrand, I demand answers.”
“Very well,” he replied without missing a beat. “I’ll answer your questions, but in return, you will answer mine.”
I noted the satisfaction in his voice and realized he’d herded me precisely where he’d wanted me. “Fine. Agreed.” It wasn’t like I hadn’t already told him all kinds of things, free of charge. “Who is the Valkara that she gets to wed the primordial of primordials?”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. “The guardian of Starfire.”
Oooh. “The glowing stone that crash-landed on Earth has a living, breathing otherworldly protector? I should have guessed. ”
“Starfire wasn’t a stone but a collection of eggs encased inside a hard outer shell for travel through the galaxies. In blood and pain, those eggs were fertilized and birthed within us that day on the battlefield.”
That made an awful, terrible sense. “So the Valkara is your protector, too.” A woman who wielded more power over him than I’d realized.
Clipped nod. “Ja.” Frown. “Nem. I am her protector.” He thought for a moment, his frown deepening. “It’s complicated.”
Exactly what Ben had said about Kami. “What has Val– the Valkara told you about the future?”
He pursed his lips. “She has said there are certain things we must do for the greater good.”
Oh, yeah. There must be a connection between our fogs. No reason to mention it, though, and every reason not to. “I’d love to learn more about that.”
“It revolves around protecting our species, our homeland, and subduing the beasts within us.”
Admirable goals, honestly. “Does she say, I don’t know, just spit-balling here, something like find, destroy, happy?” I took a stab at decoding his meaning. “Find the key, destroy the shifters, and be happy.”
His stiff demeanor responded for him, telling me the topic had reached a dead end. But I couldn’t gauge whether I’d gotten it right or missed by miles.
I veered, attempting a smooth detour. “Do you trust the Valkara?” She had access to him in ways no one else did.
Silence stretched between us, a clear sign he was done with that line of questioning.
Very well. We’d go with a new new direction. “Mind telling me what set you off yesterday?”
A flash of glowing gold in his eyes. “The captured turul-shifters relayed a message from their leader. Deco vowed to take possession of my most valued treasure.”
“Meaning me,” I said, pressing my fingertips into my sternum. Okay, I got that I was his firebrand and all, but to be touted as his most valued treasure so soon after we’d met?—
“Meaning the key,” he stated.
Right. Of course. That wasn’t upsetting at all. “Not to remind you of a sore spot, but, um, didn’t you lose it?”
“Nem. I did not.” Bitterness drenched his words.
So he didn’t, but someone else did. “What’s so special about this key?”
“What comes with it,” he replied.
More seconds ticked by as I waited for him to elaborate. Or finally ask a question of his own. Silence, only silence.
“We’d both have a much better conversational experience if you provided details in bulk,” I said, tossing my arms up. “What comes with the key?”
“Your questioning is done.” He stood, the trunk sliding behind him, the daggers falling to the floor. Unconcerned, he rolled his shoulders. “Eat your breakfast, use the facilities.” He motioned to the curtained off area. “In the coming days, you will answer ten of my questions.”
The exact number of questions he’d answered for me.
He exited the tent. Left to my own devices, I took care of first things first, collecting my daggers, then wolfing down the meal waiting on the desk. A veritable feast of eggs, fruits, juices, lángos and pogácsa. Delicious, but still not satisfying. A third and fourth helping wouldn’t have been amiss.
When not even crumbs remained, I checked out the curtained off area, pausing to admire the small, pearl-size stones sewn into the fabric. Sweeping past it, I entered what I believed to be the makeshift bathroom. Except, oh wow. How was this possible? My jaw dropped as I spun. An actual bathroom. Look at all this goodness. Walls covered in mother-of-pearl. A gold toilet. A marble floor with veins of gold. A massive shower stall with Swarovski crystal handles. A mirror surrounded with flowers made from rubies, black diamonds and emeralds. A gold-rimmed sink. Toiletries for every need lined shelves. There was also a stack of folded clothes. A pair of combat boots and ballet flats were tucked beneath the bottom rack, both in my size.
But where was the curtain? The tent ? There was only a closed wooden door framed by more of those pearl-size stones leading to a mystery location. Hand trembling, I twisted the knob. Hinges creaked, the entrance opening up to—hmm. Back in the tent, the curtain behind me. How was this even possible?
I slunk backward, shutting the door and sealing myself inside the luxurious bathroom. My gaze zeroed in on the rain shower, and I whimpered with longing. A steamy soak sounded as close to heaven on earth as I could get at this point. But there was no way I’d risk Viktor walking in on me.
No, you know what? I refused to bypass this opportunity. Who knew when I’d get another chance? I’d only been here a day, but I was filthy.
As fast as possible, I stripped, washed up under the perfect rainfall of hot water, then dried off with a fluffy towel that remained warm. Zero savoring occurred but hey, no one had interrupted me, and I now smelled of honey and lavender, so I called it a win.
After brushing my teeth, I shimmied into the clean clothes. Perfectly made undergarments the color of a blush, and a delightful knee-length dress in muted gold, with delicate embroidery of bold red and yellow flowers adorning the neckline and hem. Somehow, the garments fit me like a hand-tailored glove.
I also donned a pair of matching leggings. Though the outfit demanded I choose the lace-up ballet flats, I went for the boots after pulling on a pair of socks. Wince. The fabric was soft, but my cuts and bruises protested the contact. I, however, required the warmth. Designer shoes would have to wait for another day.
I retrieved my daggers and hustled into the tent to await Viktor. I expected him to sweep inside with dramatic flare, but one minute passed… ten…fifteen. Noises indicating heavy activity filtered into the tent. Still no Viktor.
I paced and waited. And waited. A soldier arrived with a fresh pot of stew. He didn’t look at me or speak, just placed the food on the desk and exited. I was miffed enough to eat every drop, saving none for Viktor.
At dinner time, a different soldier did the same, bringing in a second pot. Again, I ate every drop. When darkness descended, I started pacing again. Still no sign of Viktor. Had he forgotten me?
I should run again, just for the heck of it. But that would be foolhardy. And I was tired. A nap would do me some good. Strengthen me up. Clear my thoughts.
Mumbling under my breath about feral berserkers, I stretched out on the pallet. Sleep didn’t come easily, despite my fatigue, but it did come.
Bright and early the next morning, I woke up alone, ready to conquer the day, even willing to bargain about going home for an hour simply to pay my bills. Maybe there was another magical doorway? Except, the day bled into another and another, a pattern emerging.
As a mental clock ticked, I worried about my home and business, and the animals missing very necessary grooming appointments. I was fed three (inadequate) meals a day, ensuring I couldn’t save any nibbles for travel, and left alone until Viktor stomped into the tent to demand I play a song on the violin. He listened from beginning to end, seeming to relish every note. Then he would remind me that he’d ordered me to never play again and storm out. This occurred once every twenty-four hours—at first. By day three, it happened twice. Day four, five times. I tried to converse with him about that trip home, as well as Malachi and the Valkara, but he ignored me, interested only in the music.
At night Viktor might–might!–have snuggled me. I couldn’t be sure. He was never nearby when I woke, but the spot beside me was always warm when I woke. As soon as I figured out how I felt about that, I’d ask him.
By the two-week mark, I simmered with frustration I struggled to bottle, my nerves frayed. How many customers had I lost? Had I received a past due notice for my house? Yes, I was given a clean dress and leggings every day. Still fed and watered. But I wasn’t allowed to explore. Guards surrounded the tent at all times.
Something had to give. I had a pile of weapons hidden under the bed, but little else to show for my stay. What did Viktor do while I worried about my business and suffered from boredom in this tent anyway? And okay, maybe I wasn’t terribly bored. Or bored at all. He dropped off a box filled with romance novels set in my hometown, featuring a quirky cemetery owner and super sexy special agent, plus a series about berserkers. I gobbled them up as if I was dying of starvation.
Still. It was time I did something. Pushed past the point of tolerance, I stomped outside, ready to tell the guards where they could go. I drew to a halt instead. They were gone. Everyone was.
I’d been deserted?
Oh! In the distance, a blood splattered Prince Bodi strode around a corner, shouting orders to the men who followed him. “Elek, ready the horses. Laszlo, find my–” He spotted me and missed a step. Confusion twisted his features. Anger and determination followed, hardening his expression.
Dread prickled my nape. Uh-oh. Had Viktor experienced another berserkerage? “Where is he?”
“Did you teleport?” Bodi demanded, aiming for me. “Is that how you escaped Deco?”
“Excuse me? I didn’t need to escape him because I’ve never even met the guy.” And teleport? Me?
The prince scowled. “This isn’t the time for lies. Come with me before it’s too late.” Wasting not a second, he snagged me by the wrist and dragged me through camp. Warriors jumped out of our way.
A range of emotions bubbled up, fury burning hotter than them all, a build up from the past two weeks. Heat built in my chest, spreading down my arms.
Inhale. Exhale. Ugh! My usual breathing exercises didn’t help.
Maybe if I confronted the newest problem directly. “The manhandling is unnecessary, Bodi. I’ve been a good little prisoner for two weeks! I’m sure Viktor will have something to say about this. He’s grown quite fond of me, I’m certain of it.”
“If it means he calms, I welcome a rebuke.”
So he had erupted again. Great. Just great.
Despite my fury with the prince, I didn’t fight him for two reasons. One, I figured he was escorting me straight to Viktor in order to smooth things out. And two, I was curious to know what this had to do with his former friend, Deco.
We wove through multiple tents and many clusters of weapon-wielding warriors preparing for some sort of battle. No one but me seemed to notice the scent of coffee in the air. My mouth watered.
“I could really use a cup of joe before our morning cool down with the big guy,” I said as sweetly as I could muster. Which was the angriest I’d spoken to another person in years. But come on! I’d bottled up so much lately, I might explode at any moment.
“You are the strangest creature,” Bodi muttered.
By the time we entered a mud hut at the far edge of the campsite, I had calmed enough that I didn’t want to drive my fists into his chest cavity. Progress mattered.
Going from sunlight to firelight, I needed a moment to adjust. At the same time, the heat inside me cooled as if it had never been. Which I didn’t understand.
When I spotted Viktor, I forgot everything else. He stood in back, panting hard, glaring down at the ground. He wore a ripped shirt and leathers. His arms hung at his sides, his crimson-soaked hands balled into fists. Icy rage blasted from him with the force of a sudden tempest.
My stomach churned with sickness. Around him, men–shifters?–lay on the floor in pieces. What happened?
“She is here, Majesty,” Bodi said in a soothing tone he might use with a crying newborn. He gave me a gentle push forward. “Look. Your sweet Clover is returned.”
The king’s head craned our way with inhuman speed. His glowing gold eyes lit on me. He blinked with surprise, and the glow faded, revealing some of that brilliant green. Then he frowned, puzzled. “I don’t understand. You are here with me, but you are also with him.”
“With Deco?” I willingly took a step closer. “Viktor, I told the truth. I’ve never met the guy.”
“How is this possible, then?” He stretched out his arm and opened his palm, revealing a ring with an opaque stone gracing the center. He shoved the piece down his index finger and from it sprang a…hologram? Whatever it was, the stone projected it, unveiling a smiling man with dark hair, a square jaw, and piercing amber eyes. He loomed behind the woman he imprisoned in front of him, his huge feathery wings solid gold. Though the woman blocked his chest, I knew he was shirtless because his arms were bare. Tattoos covered everything but his face.
This must be the infamous Deco.
“Why would Deco send his men to be slaughtered, all to get this into my hands and taunt me with your loss,” Viktor said, still in the grips of his befuddlement, “if you are here with me?”
My gaze landed on the woman, and I gasped, slammed by a bolt of pure shock. Impossible! And yet, I saw her with my own eyes. Or rather, me. I saw me. My doppelganger stood with her back pressed against the shifter’s chest, his big, clawed hand poised at her throat.
Trembling, I fluttered my hand to my mouth, but my doppelganger didn’t move. Like me, she had dark hair with hints of red. The same gray and brown irises. Same delicate yet defined bone structure, with the same single dimple in her left cheek. She wore a gilded gown that caught the light; the silk swirling around her feet like liquid gold.
Astonishment radiated from her as she looked me over, as if the hologram were actually a live feed. But that couldn’t be right. Technology wasn’t there yet. Unless it was?
What did I know about anything? Nothing I’d experienced so far should be possible, yet here we were.
“Who are you?” we cried simultaneously. Wow! We possessed the same tone of voice, too, with the same overflow of bewilderment infusing every word.
What! That hologram was, in fact, part of a live feed. “I’m Clover,” I said at the same time she said, “I’m Juniper.”
Malachi had mentioned a sister. She must be my twin, separated from me at birth. So many questions . Even more emotions. Mostly delight, a sense of rightness, and an instant heart-bond I couldn’t explain and didn’t wish to end. Finally! I was made whole.
Viktor looked between us, understanding dawning in his eyes. Relief followed. “You cannot teleport.”
“No.” I wish!
Deco laughed with a dark glee. “Now this is an interesting development. I knew she had a sister, not that they were twins.” His purring voice scraped my nerve endings raw. “We’ll talk again soon, V. I promise you. Tootles.” The image vanished.
No, no, no. I rushed over, not yet ready to lose sight of her.
“How is this possible?” I demanded as I snatched the ring off the king’s finger. Lightweight. Hot to the touch. No discernible button to push. “Where is she? Will Deco harm her?” I must, must, must reach her. Now, now, now. I had no pride. There were no lines I wouldn’t cross. “Take me to her. Please, Viktor. Please!”
He snatched back the ring, unfazed by everything else. “Mine. ”
Fine. No problem. Focusing on him, I cupped his shoulders. “Please,” I repeated. “I’ll do anything.”