Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
VOSTEN
Our bride has come.
We knew her by her sweet and fiery scent even before we touched her, before she looked on us with defiance and without fear.
And when the chains around our necks broke, the warlock’s curse lifted and we became men once more. Our long nightmare and loneliness finally came to an end.
Sitting naked on the blood-splattered grass next to my broken chain, I cradle the human woman who has freed us and marvel at her beauty, her strength, her perfection—even as I rage at her terrible wounds and wish I could slaughter the hounds and their master again and again and again until all my fury is spent.
Her long hair is the color of the richest tea, her skin soft and fair, her strong body forged by hard work.
She wears a fine gown, but it is ill-fitting, as if it is not her own.
She is also painfully thin and smells of suffering.
Her wrists and ankles show signs of having been bound with rope.
This beauty has been kept as a prisoner, perhaps by whoever sent these hounds after her.
My brother cups her poor bloody feet in his trembling hands. Her eyelashes flutter and she moans. Thank the Goddess, she does not wake. We must take her home and tend to her injuries, but I am transfixed.
“Vosten,” my brother rasps. We have not used our own voices in centuries. His eyes reflect the same awe and disbelief that fill my heart. “Is this real? Am I dreaming?”
My voice is just as rough when I say, “No, we are not asleep.”
Gently, I kiss her forehead. Toved does the same and lets his lips linger on her skin.
She sighs in contentment despite her injuries and the horrors of the hounds’ attack. Is it possible she knows she is now safe in our arms? I hope so, with all my heart.
Toved rises. I do the same, careful not to cause her more pain by jostling her too much. She is a treasure, a wonder.
“Nothing will ever harm her again,” my brother growls. “I swear it on my life.”
“As do I,” I say, and the vow is solemnized.
Toved picks up the heavy chain necklaces that imprisoned us. “We should take these cursed chains with us and keep them hidden away,” he says, his eyes dark with pain and anger. “No one else should suffer as we have suffered.”
“Bring them,” I tell him. “And let us go home.”
Toved and I walk side-by-side past the ruins that sheltered us for so long.
Our steps are uneven and ungainly. Our bodies struggle to relearn how to move in this form.
We have not walked on two legs for what feels like eons.
I am glad to no longer have monstrous claws or a furry hide, but my bare skin feels alien and strangely vulnerable.
Toved stumbles and curses. “How long will it take for us to remember how to be men instead of beasts?” he asks.
I do not know, but I will remember. An elder brother must always be strong, even if he is older only by minutes.
“Our people need us to be men,” I tell him. “And our bride needs us as well. So we will find our way as best we can, as quickly as we can.” I nod at the woman in my arms. “By caring for her and listening to our hearts, we will find our way.”
I say it with certainty, so he accepts it. He knows I keep my word.
The bridge beyond the ruins has refused us passage since the warlock laid the curse upon us, but now as ourselves we will be able to cross its threshold and go home. My heart warms for the first time in centuries.
And someday if this fearless beauty will have us as her beloved sulhai, perhaps even her husbands, all our long years of suffering will have been worthwhile.
Our bride has come.