20
Yseult
I woke wrapped in Tristan’s cloak. I lay on the table, still in the guardroom, but alone. The lingering darkness told me it was not yet dawn.
As I sat up, the cloak fell away. My body shone pale in the darkness, all the marks and bruises healed. All except the tender spots at my neck where the Berserkers had marked me. I’d lost the moonstone necklace, but they made one of their own. Their bites collared my neck.
They’d left my shift and boots beside a cup of water and honeycake. I dressed and stretched slowly, filled with the delicious ache. My men had claimed me.
But now it was almost morning, and they were gone.
After one bite of the honeycake, I heard a sound beyond the heavy silence. Sounds of battle. Sounds of death.
No. I rushed to the door. Finding the yard empty, I
