Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78886 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78886 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Do better? Do better! I sputtered to make intelligent words, and his eyes glittered. He must be teasing me. Because I’d told him to teach me how to kiss him properly while he slept. But, but, Viktor Endris, the mischief maker? Make it make sense. Except, dang him, he wasn’t wrong! I really was desperate to go again.
“Be serious.” Also, how and why was he sexier right now than two seconds ago? “At least give me a critique of my kiss before you launch into a chat about prophecies. Describe an area I should work on. Of course, I will then offer you the same courtesy.”
“As if I require improvement.” He claimed my hand again, linking our fingers.
Oh, really? “Well, then, give me another kiss and show me what I did wrong.” As coquettish as possible, I sidled closer while slipping one of his daggers from its sheath with my free hand and hiding the weapon in my pocket. The blade cut through the fabric just enough to catch on the sides of the hilt, letting the weapon dangle and rest against my thigh. To mask my actions, I made sure to pout up at him all the while.
Satisfaction lit his irises, and he couldn’t hide it. He lowered his head. “Perhaps one more.”
“Oh, never mind,” I said with a breezy tone, stepping back. “I’d rather get a tour of the campsite, so I’ll know where not to go. Then we should eat.”
His eyelids slitted. “You are a craftier opponent than I realized.”
I preened with genuine pleasure. “Thank you.”
He worked his jaw. “Before we go, there’s something you should know. The reason I stopped,” he said, giving me a squeeze. “The Valkara spoke a prophecy over each of the original kings. Everything she said has come to pass. Except mine.”
Okay. Subject switch accepted and encouraged. “I’m listening.”
He braced. “She told me my firebrand will betray and kill me unless I find her, destroy her, and let myself be happy with her sister.”
Chapter
Thirteen
Dive In! When To Make Waves With Your Berserker
–HOW TO TRAIN YOUR BERSERKER
By Elizabeth “Elle” Darcy-Bruce
Viktor’s words reverberated inside my head as he led me hand-in-hand throughout the camp.
Find her, destroy her, and let myself be happy with her sister.
Was this the greater good I had dreamed of? Kneeling before him and allowing my death by sword to save Juniper?
But. No. That couldn’t be correct because…because!
He pointed out the new defenses as we went along, carefree and oblivious to my inner turmoil. This Valkara chick had told the king I would betray and kill him if he didn’t kill me first. She must have lied to get me out of the picture.
But. The dream. Which might be an echo of Juniper’s. I gulped. And what if the prophecy pointed to her death?
But. She wasn’t his firebrand. I was. I’d already proven it.
Unless we both were?
“This is particularly effective for skewering any and every turul-shifter who attempts to descend from the air,” Viktor said, pointing to the spears anchored into the ground, with their sharp tips aimed skyward. How delighted he sounded. “As you know, berserkers cannot fly, but we enjoy hobbling those who do. You’ll see.”
“You’re in a good mood again, and it’s weird.” Especially considering we’d just discussed my murder. “Excuse me for being unable to let this go, but how are you supposed to marry the Valkara and also be happy with your firebrand’s sister?”
“One will be my partner, the other will be my muse.”
His muse?! “That doesn’t even make sense!”
“Agreed.” He continued as if the incongruity was perfectly normal. “The pillory holds a shifter in place. Makes it easier to remove their hearts and heads. The only true way to kill a turul.”
I eyed the wooden frame made up of splintered planks and shuddered. A horizontal board slashed through the center, three holes designed to secure a shifter’s hands and neck.
We came upon another wooden frame, with a single long arm. Men rushed around, securing a basket to the end of the arm with thick, coiled rope. So this was what all the hammering was about.
“The basket is filled with hot oil, rocks, and tar that will knock the shifters out of the sky and ground them.” Delight turned to glee.
As much as I appreciated the tour of medieval horrors, I couldn’t help but lose track as my brain returned to the threat of my death. A concept I didn’t quite have the bandwidth to carry, but tried, hoping I wouldn’t glitch. Every time Viktor had chanted his mantra, he’d contemplated killing me, and yet, still, he’d saved my life and kissed me. Another incongruity.
How could I stay with him? But how could I leave him when I needed his aid? But how could I accept his aid, relying on him for my and my sister’s protection?