Chapter 16
Distant drums from another life pound in my ears. That primal song that plays in my bones. Visions of the crone flash in my mind. She holds up a cup, an offering, while shadowy figures dance all around me.
I let her pour the cup over my head. Blood drips down my face and breasts.
Flames flicker from a roaring bonfire. I dance with them, twisting and contorting to mimic the blaze.
The pounding of hooves on the ground grows louder.
The smoke thickens, but through the haze, I see them all—tall and dark and powerful.
But there are five horses, one is riderless. My horse. I let them hoist me up onto the beautiful creature. They circle me, hungry, desperate to claim me. I am yours, my lords. You are mine.
We ride through the dark woods as one, reclaiming the roots of the trees, invoking the rain that enriches the soil. Cracking the stars open and spilling their sacred light upon the path before us. This, as it was, shall be again.
I wake to my own gasps. Have I had this dream before? I blink a few times and glance around the room. The embers in the hearth smolder as smoke billows out. I shudder and pinch my eyes shut, hurrying to recall every part of the dream before it slips from my memory. As I believe it has always done.
“Do you remember now?” War’s voice pierces the silence, sending a cascade of chills up my spine.
My breath hitches. It’s not a dream, but a memory so ancient that its script is written on my soul.
I lock eyes with War in the dark. “Who am I?”
“Ours,” Death growls. “You are ours.”
“Born and reborn, over and over,” Conquest adds.
War pulls the furs down and pins my thighs back against the floor. He rubs his thumb over my birthmark. “It was I who carved this crescent moon into your thigh centuries ago. To mark you.”
My mouth gapes open. “H-how many times have you captured me for him?”
“Three hundred and seventy-four times,” Famine rasps.
“You don’t always look the same in each life, except for your blonde hair and blue eyes.” Death threads his fingers through my messy strands.
That familiar longing pulls at me. “Why? How did this happen?”
“You were our woman. Our queen. But he tricked us. He marked you as the first sacrifice,” War snarls. “It is how the Wild Hunt began. Saint Nick took you from us while we begged him to spare you.”
Death wraps a protective arm around my waist. “We tried hiding you, but the gods cursed us, forcing us to watch him sacrifice you again and again for centuries. Until we had enough. We invoked the darkest magic to weave these wards.”
My teeth chatter as I rock back and forth on the floor, hugging my knees to my chest. “You needed me to remember on my own because I would never have believed you otherwise.”
They nod in unison.
I finger my thigh, tracing it over the crescent moon and the star that now lies next to it. “So when I die in this life, and I’m reborn, will you have to hunt me all over again?”
“Yes,” Death rasps. “But we will always find you.”
Famine lays his head in my lap, curling into me like a loyal pet. “Never again, little doe. We will never let him have you ever again.”
“No more,” Death declares.
I lay back on the floor and stare up at the high ceiling. It’s so far away I can barely make out the intricate designs that are etched into it. My horsemen stretch out around me, their breaths heavy as they allow me to process their admission.
My heart is heavy, racing with fear and sadness.
I remember the longing I felt as a girl, that pull to the woods.
At times, it seemed the whispers in the wind called to me.
But I chalked it up to an overreactive imagination.
Perhaps it was them, centuries of servitude, their voices trying to reach me through time and space. Hundreds of cries.
It sounds like madness and folly. Like a bedtime story meant to scare children away from the woods.
But this is no fable. I feel their urgency in my bones.
My life has always belonged to them. This has always been my fate.
My destiny. The longer I ponder it, the more natural it feels.
Like a long-forgotten melody that I can finally remember the words to.
I curl onto my side and tuck my knees to my chest as I gaze into the fire. The flames leap and dance within the stone hearth, reminiscent of the dream. “Why us?” I murmur.
“He wanted us to do his bidding, but we refused. So he took the one thing that meant anything to us. He knew we’d hunt you down for eternity,” Conquest drawls, his voice dripping with bitterness.
“And when you draw your last breath in this life, we will wait for you to be reborn again. And again. Forever.” War tips my chin up to gaze into my eyes. “That is our sacrifice.”
I bury my head in his neck and breathe in the heady scent of juniper and cedar. He smells like the very earth itself, sprouted from petrified wood and ancient rituals and moondust. “The gods have not forsaken us. They have tethered us to each other.”
And I’m still trying to figure out if that’s good or bad.
As I watch the sky lay a new blanket of snow on the ground, I realize this terrace has become my sanctuary.
The howls of wolves seem less frightening from up here.
Deep within the forest, creatures stalk their prey, just as we do.
But inside my castle of stone, on my elevated platform, I am untouchable to all who wish to harm me.
And yet the men who live inside these walls are far more dangerous than any wildling down there. But what my mind fears, my body craves. If what they say is true, they’ve left imprints on my soul and marks on my flesh that will never fade.
It’s been three weeks since my capture, and I have wanted for nothing.
My belly is full, my skin is warm, and my carnal appetite has been more than satisfied.
The longer I’m here, the more the shame dissipates.
But the dreams have become more vivid. They play out more and more like memories, like distant echoes from my past lives.
I struggle to draw the line between cult and scripture. A line where gods and saints and devils walk this earth like shadows caught in still reflections. And all this time, the girl in the fables was me. A horrifying tale of blood and sacrifice and desperation.
But I cannot deny the peace I feel. The quiet calm that soothes my nerves whenever I am near them. When I close my eyes, my body hums with need. Our love is brutal, dark, and twisted, and yet older than the very lands this castle sits upon.
The sweet, buttery scent of freshly baked bread yanks my attention back to the present. My belly grumbles as I leave my snowy terrace in search of the delectable culprit. By the time I reach the Hall of Feasts, my mouth is watering.
Food was scarce for my family. Papa hunted as far as it was safe to go, but the animals kept their distance. And Mama did the best she could with whatever he brought home to cook. There were more than a few nights we went to bed still hungry.
Famine wraps his arms around me from behind and waves a frosted muffin in my face.
“Mmm, divine. I blame you for the extra meat on my bones.” I moan as the pillowy dough fills my mouth, inciting bursts of tart blueberries and rich molasses.
He chuckles as he squeezes my hips. “A well-fed woman is more agreeable. Besides, I like having more of you to grab onto.”
I giggle as I finish devouring my pastry, while scanning the table for more. I am insatiable these days. “Did we always play like this?”
Death stalks into the room and pulls out a chair. His large frame takes up most of it as he slinks down. “They were your games, little doe. You taught us how to play them.”
My cheeks heat as I wait for him to break into laughter. To admit he’s teasing, but the smirk on his lips proves otherwise. “You’re not joking.”
Famine laughs as he nudges me toward a seat at the decadent table. “You have always begged us to do the most vile things to you. And we love you more for it.”
I take a big swig of mead and swallow it down hard, relishing its fizziness. A part of me has always known. These filthy things I crave were buried deep, suppressed by my own memory, yet awakened by the first set of hooves galloping in the woods.
When Conquest first swooped me up onto his horse, my heart raced with excitement as well as fear. With a desire to be claimed.
My breath hitches when War enters. His black hair hangs down his bare chest. He wears nothing but a pair of low-slung trousers, the same color as his silky strands.
Moisture pools between my legs as I admire the deep V of his pelvis, the perfect muscles in his abdomen that resemble the washboard I used to wring my panties on.
He raises an eyebrow at me. “You’re drooling, little doe.”
I lick my lips. “Because I want you, my lord.”
The room falls quiet. His eyes darken as he stalks toward me. “There’s the assertive queen I remember,” he murmurs in my ear.
I squint toward the dark entryway. Conquest is noticeably missing this morning. “Will he not be joining us for breakfast?”
“He’s off on a hunt,” Death replies.
My stomach knots. “What is he hunting?”
Famine grins from ear to ear, amused. “Don’t fret, my love. You’re enough woman for all of us.”
“Elk,” War snorts. “He’s hunting elk and rabbit.”
“Of course.” I feel my cheeks heat.
The rest of the meal is eaten in silence except for the clanking of forks against plates.
I am especially ravenous today. I slather a generous heap of blackberry jam over a hot cross bun and moan into my first bite.
The food tastes better here for some reason.
The flavors are sharper, more fragrant, and decadent.
“You give me every sinful thing,” I purr.