Knut
864 Words
Knut
The woman shook like a leaf on the breeze. Her drying hair was soft as corn silk, her eyes wide and fawn colored. Her pulse fluttered in her throat and my hand itched to cover it.
I needed to remember to be gentle, to put her at ease. I was used to barking commands and leading men, not saying sweet things to a woman.
I sat, keeping distance between us, so as not to tempt the beast. My lungs filled with her lovely scent. My ears picked up the rapid patter of her heart.
“Tell me of your home at the abbey. Your childhood.” I softened my tone. “I wish to know everything about my mate. One day, we will be able to share thoughts, and you will show me your memories.”
Her eyes widened.
“That is the work of the mating bond. It will manifest between us naturally.”
Hazel wet her lips. Nervousness tinged her scent. No doubt she was afraid of being joined to a warrior suffering under a curse, one she had just met.
The more I thought about it, the more the beast inside me raged to take her, claim her. Make her my own. I would bind her to me with an unbreakable bond, a link between our very souls.
I shifted closer and ran my hand down the fall of her hair. With a small sigh, she leaned into my touch. The fear in her scent eased and the beast backed down. “For now, you will tell me about your life.”
The press of her lips told me she wanted to be stubborn and resist, but she obeyed.
“I lived all my life in an orphanage attached to an abbey. The nuns take in orphans from the surrounding villages—but only girls. I have many friends—closer than sisters. There are a few my age: Sage and Sorrel, Willow, Fern, Angelica and Rosalind. They will be worried that I disappeared.” She gnawed her lips again. “I wonder what the friar will tell them.”
“The friar is the one who sold you?”
“Yes. He oversees the grounds and all of us. The nuns keep us busy with gardening and weaving. The friar sells our cloth, herbs and honey, and sets the money for our dowry, so he can find us good husbands. At least, that’s what he told us.” She frowned, a line appearing on her otherwise smooth forehead. “One of my friends disappeared overnight. Sari was going to run away with her lover, but,” Hazel shook her head, “Later in the village, I saw the lad mourning her. Sari never got free of the abbey. The friar found out she was leaving and gave her to the Corpse King.”
“How do you know?”
Hazel looked away. “I saw her body in the cave. It was shrunken and dried, like an old husk. But it was her. Oh, Sari,” She pressed her fist to her mouth as if trying to hold back her tears. They came anyway and I could hold back from touching her no longer.
I wrapped my arms around her, holding her shaking body as she wept.
“Hush, sweet one.”
“It’s my fault,” she wailed. “I knew the friar was taking the money and hoarding it for himself. I saw him counting it one day and the greed on his face. Other girls had disappeared before. The friar told us they went to good husbands. But we never saw them again, even when they promised they would visit. I suspected, but I did not warn the others. Not until it was too late. The friar caught me, locked me in the room with Fleur, and then gave us to the Grey Men. They took us to the Corpse King’s cave and that is where you found me.”
“How did you escape the cave?”
“Fleur—she has powers. She somehow called the witch’s staff to her.”
“The one you now possess?”
“Yes,” she reached for it, and I allowed her to grasp it and set it between us. “The friar broke it over his knee, but it magically appeared at our time of need.”
“Fleur was rescued holding a piece,” I told her what I’d learned from the pack bonds, before the storm and distance disrupted them. “She nearly killed the Corpse King with it. He lives,” I cautioned as hope dawned on her face, “but he is weakened. You were meant to be his bride.”
“What is he?”
“An ancient evil, a king who committed acts of atrocity I dare not speak of.” I gathered her close, gratified when she pressed against me. Her body responded to me, even if she was still deciding if I could be trusted. “The mage is everything unnatural and his servants belong amongst the dead.”
“Necromancy?”
I nodded. “It takes great sacrifice to sustain such awful power. Human sacrifice.”
“He killed Sari. Who knows how many of my abbey sisters also died to feed him.”
I did not tell her what my warriors had reported: a pile of bones stacked outside the cave.
Instead I cupped her chin. “Do not think of it, Hazel. You escaped and when we return to the mountain, we will find a way to protect all of your sisters.”
“Thank you,” and her small smile lit my heart like sunlight breaking through the grim day.
- Writer
