Wulf
She's gone.
There was no reply earlier when I knocked repeatedly on the doors of the queen's chambers. She is nowhere else in Isenmere Castle.
So thoroughly have I scoured it in the short time since my return that I am now back at her doors, certain of it.
Verena is gone.
Unless…
Perhaps she is lying in a pool of her own blood within the queen's bedroom. Perhaps these castle servants, whom I do not trust, harmed her in the days while I was away—harmed the woman I have sworn away my life to protect.
Fury fills me at the thought.
Quickly, I check to see that no guard is watching—but no one stands sentinel at the end of the hall leading to her rooms.
Do they care nothing for her welfare?
Swearing in Hjemic, I throw my weight into my shoulder, slamming into the door.
It only takes two tries before the doors burst open, a broken lock clanking to the plush rugs along with splintered wood.
Shutting the doors as best as I can behind me, I turn and scan the room.
She's not in the bed. Not dead on the ground. I step into the garderobe, but she is not slumped over at the vanity in here with a slit throat as my worry has imagined, either.
A small clicking sound in the queen's room draws my attention. It's soft, followed by the careful footsteps of one sneaking about.
They do not sound like the footfalls of a woman to my hunter's ears.
Leaning back, I catch the barest glimpse of a man stepping out of an entrance hidden behind the mirror. The sight of this stranger in Verena's private space, where she was meant to be safe in my absence, fills me with enough rage to bring back the dead wild spirits of old.
I'm upon him at once, my movements brutal and swift. He cries out in surprise and pain as I pin him face down to one of the rugs.
Forcing his head up by his hair, my knife nearly bends the flesh at his throat.
I bare my teeth against his ear to snarl, "Where is she? What have you done to her?"
Terror makes speech difficult for the coward. Though he is a smaller man than I, his attempts to break free are almost pathetically weak.
"I—" He chokes, flinching back from the cold edge of my knife.
"Get off of her," the puddle ghost shouts, catching me by surprise when he slams against the glass of the mirror. "That's Verena, you damned brute!"
Are his eyes under some enchantment? This is clearly a—
I do a double-take, realizing the short hair twisted in my fist is changing. It is lengthening to become a rich, dark red that I have only seen on one person.
And this familiar, delicate soul scent around me…
Immediately, I release the man from the painful hold. My knife drops from my hands next as I watch the stranger's features morph and shift before my eyes, becoming the beautiful face of the queen. Her clothes, too, have changed into a simple dark grey dress under the cloak.
Soon, it is Verena who scoots quickly away from me until she sits with her back against the stone wall, knees drawn to her chest. She blinks moisture out of her eyes and rubs her neck, shoulders hunched inward.
No.
No, this cannot be.
How could I have terrorized and hurt her again?
"Forgive me," I stammer. "I…I did—"
"You didn't know. Yep, I put that together somewhere between your knee digging into my spine and that knife grazing my throat."
When she reaches up to rub her scalp as if it still stings from my grip, I want to drive the fallen knife into my gut.
She swallows hard. "I guess I'd be worried if you didn't attack a strange man sneaking into the queen's...wait, how did you even get in this room?"
Verena's question is answered when she spies the broken lock on the rug nearby. Dread of the purest degree passes over her face.
The mirror ghost sees her expression and speaks in a surprisingly soft tone.
"There are other locks, Fairest. He'll fix it."
"I will," I agree quickly. "At once. I should not have broken—"
"Is Snow White back?" she asks, not meeting my eye.
Although Verena plainly wishes the conversation to move on, she is still shaken. She hugs her knees closely, not moving from where she has shrunk in on herself against the wall.
That position says she fears me greatly.
I have never felt so wretched.
"Snow White has returned," I say quietly. Carefully, I rise and back away so as not to frighten her further. "The princess is resting in her chambers. The trip back from the Loomdark was…fraught."
That is putting it lightly.
Retrieving Snow White was difficult enough with the many monsters that prowl the Loomdark, but many outlaws and bandits also live near that dark forest. Several attacked us on the journey.
Though neither the girl nor I was harmed, it was far from a pleasant experience.
Verena nods. When she lifts one of her hands to examine it, I see that her knuckles are bruised.
A frustrated sound breaks from me before I can stop it. "Where did you go alone, that you had need to swing your fist?"
Eris is also surprised. "Did you blacken that man's eye before taking your fill of him?"
Taking her fill?
As in…
"You endangered yourself for sex?"
My words are sharp. I try to soften them. She is already terrified of me, and berating her is not my place—yet the thought of her going to such lengths for a lay distresses me in ways I don't understand.
"Did I not swear I would do anything you command?" I remind her. "From now on, any time you desire to be bedded, tell me to—"
With a sudden ferocity, Verena gets to her feet to glare at me.
"Don't finish that sentence. I might be a goddamn blood-guzzling monster now, but I'll never be that kind of monster."
She turns away to flop onto the bed.
It's like watching a storm settle mere seconds after it has broken. Suddenly, she is burrowing under the covers, her voice muffled as she hides from the world.
"Thanks for bringing Snow White back. For future reference, so you don't clobber me again, I'm supposed to be the only person who can use that secret passage. Now get out. I can't even look at you right now, after you suggested that. Ugh."
I want to resist. I want to tell Verena she's no monster, apologize once more, and demand to know if she has any other injuries.
But my body is already moving, compelled to obey her direct order. A moment later, the doors to her chamber shut behind me once more.
It is a long and sleepless night for me, standing watch in the hall.
It was restless for Verena, as well. I know because I heard her rise several times in the night, only to hear the lost soul in the mirror whisper that all was well and to get more sleep.
Perhaps my proximity is what frightens her.
If so, it is founded.
All night, the moment I roughly tackled Verena in her disguise torments me. I hear her screams of pain in the faerie's prison—recall the tears dripping from her cheeks as she insisted repeatedly that she was not the queen.
If the rest of my life is to be nothing but endless guilt for those moments, it is what I deserve.
Before dawn, two Isenmerian guards finally take their posts down the hall, noting aloud with little surprise that the guards before them slacked off. They make small chatter that I ignore until one of them eyes me with a wrinkle-nosed expression I see often in Isenmere.
"I cannot believe there are two northerners in the castle right now. What is this place coming to?"
The other guard shoves him quickly. Though he lowers his voice, I still hear.
"Do you have rocks for ears or something? How have you missed the rumors? Everyone's talking about the queen's new Favored—Grendel's Bane himself. You know, that great monster slayer from Nordhjem."
"Fuck. I didn't know. Even so, why's that northerner boy still here, being treated like a royal guest? If you ask me, the queen's been acting odd since the moment she rushed in to stop that whelp being executed along with the rest of his family."
She what?
I'm on my feet at once, approaching the guards who yelp and shrink back.
Dawn has not yet broken. I do not know how much time I have before Verena wakes, but since I plan to be her loyal dog every waking hour, this is the only time to learn more.
"Where is the boy?" I demand.
One of the guards hides behind the other, who stammers, "T-the guest quarters. Down by the kitchens near the lower courtyard!"
I'm unfamiliar with Isenmere Castle, but it doesn't take me long to find the quarters they spoke of. It's in a small wing of the castle, branching off from a large courtyard.
Walking down the hall, I knock softly on each wooden door. At the last one, I hear a sigh within the room.
"I won't let you force me to eat again, Mikkel. Go away."
The sound of Gunar's son's voice fills me with such relief that I rest my forehead against the door, sending a prayer of thanks to the great matron goddess, Eldrunia.
The handle is locked, so I knock again. "Hagen. It's me."
"Beowulf?"
Immediately, the lock turns and the door is thrown wide open.
Fierce blue eyes meet mine before the stripling puffs out his chest, standing taller. His soul-scent is a softer version of his father's bold citrus.
"Is the queen dead, then? I told her you would kill her for what she did to my family."
Verena did nothing to his family. But clearly, though she is not of this world, she managed to save Hagen's life.
Remembering that I repaid her for that kindness with broken fingers is enough to crush my lungs.
Stepping into the simple guest room Hagen is occupying, I close the door behind us and face him.
Gunar often told me his son looks up to me, but it cannot last. It is time he knows what I am, so he will stop idolizing me as a hero of our people.
Looking him in the eye, I square my shoulders. "Your father knew this, but now you must know. I am a cursed man."
"He told me that. I've never told anyone," Hagen adds quickly. "He also said your curse is not a cruel one, and it somehow saved his life many times. But he never explained it to me. What is your curse?"
Gunar was never a tight-lipped one, but I appreciate that he tried.
"It's not for you to know. But because of it…" I begin, looking away.
I notice the puddle ghost with strange hair is here, watching from the reflection of a mirror hung above the wash table. Saying anything to that silent observer will only confuse Hagen, who seemingly cannot see the lost soul.
"I have a keen sense of smell. So keen that I can perceive souls themselves," I go on, meeting Hagen's wide-eyed stare. "Each person I meet has a scent as unchanging as the Drachen Mountains."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I did not kill the queen."
At this, he rears back and becomes furious. "What? Then I will kill her myself and—"
"No, Hagen," I growl, allowing him to see the ferocity I usually reserve for the monsters I hunt.
He falls quiet, startled. "The queen lives, but she is not the same cruel creature who imprisoned you and your family.
She is Verena now, an innocent soul from a distant land who somehow fell into the queen's body.
I forbid you to harm her, for you know what the Matron does to those who harm or kill innocents. "
"She keeps their souls from reuniting with their loved ones after death," Hagen murmurs.
A pained look replaces the anger as he sits on the edge of the bed, dejected.
"Then…what of the real queen's soul? Where did she go?
Will she never receive the punishment she deserves for all the terrible things she did? "
"Perhaps her soul has moved on. Perhaps she is already being punished, somehow."
That seems to be little comfort to him.
Finally, he takes a deep breath and looks up at me. "Tell me, where do I go from here? I have no family. I have nothing."
There are shadows under his eyes. The gauntness to his cheeks tells me he has not eaten, as he mentioned earlier.
"You have a cursed friend who will slay any fool who tries to harm you," I promise. I pinch the sleeve of his long-worn tunic. "And you will go bathe anywhere you find running water, for as your friend, I must tell you that you stink worse than Grendel's breath did."
The young man huffs, fighting the ghost of a smile. "I am serious, Beowulf. Should I return to Nordhjem, alone? I was too young to remember when my family fled the famine and the Roving, but some say the north is finally healing."
"Those who say that speak from their asses," I mutter. "You are better off in Isenmere for now, even with the scowls of the vain at every turn."
"Are you living in Isenmere? Can I stay with you?"
I cannot hide my shame from him forever.
"Until my dying breath, I shall now live wherever Verena commands me to. I owe her a life debt as penance for punishing her as the evil queen before I learned the truth. The pledge is already made."
He stares at me for a very long moment. I know how proud Gunar and his wife were of our ancestral tenets. They have taught their son well, so he knows that I'm no better than a loyal dog now.
I must be such, to make up for the evil I've done and appease Eldrunia, the great protector of women.
Finally, the boy nods slowly. "Then I want to stay in the castle, near you. Perhaps I can start training to be a squire. I could become a knight one day."
"You'll be lucky if they let you be a stable boy, smelling this much worse than horse shit," I say, patting his shoulder.
That almost gets his lips to turn up again, but I suspect it will be some time before he smiles fully.
I didn't notice when the puddle ghost left, but he reappears suddenly in the mirror.
"She's awake, Huntsman. But more importantly, I've been keeping a close eye on the queen's former Favored. Some of them are quite bitter about losing their political positioning in the castle. One just left Isenhold with a knife he swore to bury in Verena's heart."
I'm on my feet at once, running from Hagen's room.