Page 27 of Vow of the Undead (The Bloodrune Saga #1)

T he stress of sneaking and running left me bed bound for too many hours. Laying awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering if King Drakkar, or my captor, or any number of Draugr would come to devour me.

Stasia’s sack of flour reference was more than accurate. My legs swelled to puffy tree trunks and weighed about as much. Even rolling over left me breathless and my pulse racing.

I was used to my body shutting down, but not while surrounded by monsters.

If nothing else, the hours gave me enough time to think, and since I had plenty of information to mull over, I skirted on the edge of nerves, never sinking into a spiral of dwelling.

Astrid and Sten were undead which meant I couldn’t have killed them, and yet, they’d collapsed with unblinking eyes.

The only explanation I came to relied on the silver, though I never thought the Y Tree was truly silver since pure metals were unheard of across Vylheim.

True silver and gold were said to be cursed, weapons against Draugr, but the only saga to mention the undead was also part of the history that’d been lost. We didn’t have the details about what it meant to wield a weapon against a creature that was neither alive nor dead.

I decided that though they were undead, it was thanks to the purity of the Y Tree that I destroyed them. It was the only thing that made sense.

That left me with one impossible question. Why had King Drakkar allowed me to keep it?

This catapulted me into a hundred other thoughts that needed answers.

I had no clue what an undead king would want with a human bride, or how these creatures came to be on the throne, courtiers, and members of the king’s council.

I’d sensed a threat in the cold stares of the courtiers, but I never expected soulless monsters.

At least one question was answered.

Now I knew why the shadows followed me. They wanted to tear me apart and use my life to fuel their existence, though that didn’t explain why they’d only lurked at my heels. What about the thousands of other lives in Vylheim from which to draw life?

A shudder cut through me. I didn’t wish this curse on anyone else. I didn’t. Truly, I wasn’t that selfish.

Evil.

Selfish.

Ugh!

The door creaked open and my heart caught in my throat. I rolled my head to the side—without getting dizzy. I didn’t breathe until Stasia’s cherub face appeared. Sliding my eyes shut for a moment, I exhaled as slowly as possible to stop my pulse from running away.

The thumping in my chest slowed to an off-rhythm ticking.

As Stasia bustled about the room, carrying a new deep magenta dress, and a cup of fresh water, I tested my recovery by lifting my heavy arm. When the effort didn’t send my heart hammering again or sweep my breath away, I dragged my legs to the edge of the bed and sat up.

“Finally,” I whispered.

“Seriously,” she said, shaking her head.

She set the cup down on the table beside my bed then spun and hung the dress over the cabinet next to my original clothing.

“You’ve been drifting in and out of consciousness for hours, but I couldn’t find a single bite on you.

Also, my concoction of nettle, dandelion, and dark greens in broth barely helped, which really threw me.

Usually that works. Trust me when I say I know my food. ”

I blinked at her. “A bite?” The Draugr had not sunk their teeth into me, yet. “From what?” I shook my head. “Wait, when did I eat?”

“Like I said, you were really out of it.” She spoke as she smoothed out the bottom of the new dress. The lace beneath the overlay of silky fabric didn’t want to lay flat. “I propped your head up and had you take sips whenever you were half awake.”

Pieces of these memories resurfaced. I’d even tried to push Stasia away because I was too tired to take the broth, but I didn’t have enough strength to do more than lay my hand on her arm.

The stress of getting caught, the capture, the running, it’d all stripped me down to nothing but heavy bones. My muscles were useless and my heart protested everything that wasn’t the mere task of keeping me alive.

“Why did you mention looking for a bite on me?” I asked again.

Stasia spun around and motioned for me to stand. Her pursed lips gave no indication that she was shocked by this question.

I slid off the bed and eased up to my full height. Moving too quickly would bring back my dizziness and I didn’t know if my shaking legs would steady me enough to walk, much less stand. But I stayed upright and my head remained stable.

“Stasia?” I prodded as I met her gaze, now level with her eyes.

She sighed. “We don’t usually mention it directly, of course.”

“The Draugr?” I dared. I didn’t know Stasia. I couldn’t even recall her name correctly before last night, but something about her kind face and the way she spoke so bluntly beckoned me to be straight with her.

Besides, time was cut shorter and shorter the longer I danced around the truth. I was sick of lying and hiding and if the king would have my head for mentioning monsters that weren’t supposed to exist, he’d already have killed me.

She clucked her tongue. “Gutsy lady, I admire that. I’m more of a gut lady, myself.

By that I mean, most of the time I’m thinking about what will go next into my gut.

Tea, soaked bread. Ooh, or the thick crunchy crust when a round of sour bread is baked a little too long?

I die for that. Honestly, I probably will be the first to die with this famine coming?—”

“Stasia,” I snapped. She was clearly avoiding the question, and the truth, but her presence set me at ease enough to push for answers.

The answers seemed right there, on the edge of her tongue, even though she kept changing the subject back to food.

Tired of dancing around the secrets in Mara’s Keep, I pinned her with my gaze.

“How can you ramble on about food when we are the food in Mara’s Keep? ”

Unfolding her arms, she laid her hands on my shoulders. I wanted to shrug away when the weight of her grip pulled me back into the moment my captor had grabbed me. Back into the shadows where the wheat-haired man had held me out in front of him.

“My queen, may I offer a suggestion that could help keep your sanity and save your life?” I opened my mouth but she didn’t let me respond.

Apparently, since I didn’t immediately shut her down, she took it as an invitation to explain.

“The best food in all of Vylheim is in this very castle. We have the best cooks, the best of every crop, and even we servants eat decently.”

“What does that?—”

“Shhh.” She lazily pressed a finger to my lips and then spun toward the door.

Marching toward it, she chattered on. Frustration built within me.

My insistence for answers was not breaking through her useless rambling.

We were having two different conversations and it was clear that was exactly what Stasia intended.

“Listen, if you want to survive among the…non-living, you have to soak up every single tiny moment of satisfaction. And here? That’s mostly just food.

At least for me. Maybe for you, dancing could be added to that and, well.

” She stopped with one hand on the door as she pointed at the new dress.

“You can delight in dress as well. But the rest of life in Mara’s Keep is pain.

Screaming. Have you heard the screaming yet? Probably not in this wing.”

With that, she disappeared through the door, leaving me with the barest hint of a truth.

Screaming …

So the Draugr devoured their victims right here in the castle, like animals playing a human lifestyle?

To me, it always seemed the damp forest was the most dangerous, or the edge of a gushing fjord, or the thrashing seas. Not a stone palace with sky-pointed spires and throne rooms full of decadently dressed courtiers.

“Stasia?” I called out again. I took a shaky step forward, then decided it was safest to shuffle until the swelling in my legs subsided. Moving would help the blood flow.

I only made it three steps when Stasia shoved back through the door, awkwardly carrying a bucket of sloshing water. Steam drifted up into her face, twisting a few separate tendrils of loose waves into tighter curls. She dumped the water into the stone tub.

“Does everyone here know the king is a monster?” I asked.

She heaved a breath and held up one finger. Returning to the door, she hauled in two more buckets until the tub was full of heated water.

Then she pointed at it. “Let me get the last bucket. Then get in and I’ll answer your questions. You’re supposed to be at King Drakkar’s side before the guests arrive.”

“Guests?”

“Your engagement party, of course.”

My brows lifted while my shoulders sank.

“Another party?” How would I track him if I was with him every night?

Waiting until the end of the celebrations proved tricky with how tired and nearly careless I became, and King Drakkar certainly didn’t showcase any vulnerabilities while courtiers and council members, commoners and servants, all praised him for his upcoming wedding.

Of course, a king as arrogant and as powerful as Drakkar never bore any vulnerabilities. But I was promised that if I followed the blood he left behind, I’d see him at his weakest.

I’d receive answers.

And as close as I’d come to it last night, I hadn’t passed Freya’s trial. Only when I was granted sight of her beloved cats would I know it’d ended.

Stasia huffed as she poured more steaming water into the tub. I stared at the foaming bubbles at the base of the miniature waterfall, turning over the possibilities in my mind.

The king had been hungry which skirted vulnerability, but Draugr never truly tired. What else would pitch him into vulnerability? The blood trail… If my clues were what he left behind, was his weakest moment when he killed? Or when he fed? Weren’t those one in the same?