Chapter 17 #3
“Not happening,” I say instantly.
This was not a part of the plan. And how am I to know this berserker isn’t some Valtor plant, that he hasn’t been persuaded to join my party and slit my throat in my sleep?
We have enough to worry about without accepting a stranger.
“Thorian,” Nyx whispers, her voice low, “you said it yourself: our group isn’t ideal. You and I don’t stand much of a chance. Perhaps we should listen to what Fenric has to say.”
The moment stretches out. It’s hard to think clearly with her hand on my arm like this. I grit my teeth and swallow against the dryness in my throat.
I don’t know this man, and I don’t like him. I especially don’t like the friendly nature between him and Nyx.
“What part of the reward are you seeking?” Nyx asks, instead of waiting for me to answer. “I want my sister, the Courted Prize.”
“I have no interest in the Courted Prize,” Fenric says quickly, as though the words have been held back and he’s only now allowing them out.
“I only want money and power. The title of Lordship. Enough to get my family out of slavery.” He looks toward me.
“I don’t need all the bounty, just enough that I can—”
Nyx goes still beside me.
“What?” she whispers.
Fenric's jaw tightens. “My parents. My younger sister and brother. They're all enslaved.”
Her fingers loosen on my arm, only to curl back around it a heartbeat later. Horror flashes across her face, followed by something quieter. Grief. Compassion.
Fuck. Slavery.
I've never understood how civilized kingdoms can condemn monsters while chaining people in the streets. The berserkers are hardly the only victims of it, but they're among the most common. They’re strong enough to be useful, and different enough that most people don't object.
It's a stain on every kingdom that allows it.
I think of the countless times I've watched nobles speak about berserkers as though they were livestock instead of people. The way the gods never seem interested in intervening. The way men like Fenric are forced to gamble their lives for a chance to free the people they love.
When I glance at Nyx again, her eyes are still fixed on him, bright with sympathy.
If he truly doesn't care about the Courted Prize, if all he wants is his family back, it's difficult to fault him for that.
I sigh, finally lowering my sword and glancing toward the sky as though it might offer me some relief.
“I’ve no interest in the money,” I say. “Only in the godhood.”
Fenric nods, presses his lips together, then blurts, “I’m a berserker.”
As though I didn’t know.
He goes on, “That’s useful in a fight. When I’m in my other form, I’m practically impervious.”
My first thought is about how helpful that would be to protect Nyx. It would be a lie not to admit that she’s our greatest weakness. We have to get to the Obsidian Spire with her alive. A berserker teammate would certainly aid in that task.
“Thorian.” Nyx turns to me, tipping her chin up and fixing those eyes on mine so intently that my composure threatens to crack beneath their weight.
Such a small woman, yet so easily ready to persuade me into something I don’t want to do. I flag this as dangerous in the back of my mind.
“The most important thing to me is that we win. That I save my sister,” she says, still holding my gaze. “And I think Fenric will help us with that. What do you say?”
There's not a part of me that trusts this man.
Then again, there aren't many people I do trust.
A friendly smile and an unfortunate story aren't enough to convince me to lower my guard, especially not in the middle of the Trials. Desperate people make dangerous allies, and a man who has lost everything has very little left to lose.
Still, what Nyx says makes sense.
The forest is vast. The monsters aren't getting any smaller.
A third set of eyes, ears, and hands could mean the difference between surviving and dying.
Fenric has already proven he can fight, and if he'd wanted to put a knife in our backs, he could've tried to at any point while trailing us through the forest. Instead, he saved Nyx's life.
At least, so far.
I study the berserker, looking for signs of deception and finding none. That doesn't mean they're not there. Only that he's good at hiding them.
But whether I like it or not, Nyx is right. Taking him with us is probably the sensible choice. I just don't have to enjoy it.
“Fine,” I manage. Fenric visibly relaxes, and I stare him down with every bit of intensity in my body. “But I don’t trust you. One wrong move, and I’ll put a knife in your skull. Is that clear?”
To my surprise, rather than shrinking under that threat, Fenric lets out a relieved laugh, running a hand through his copper curls and cutting his gaze to Nyx. “Well, looks like you’ve already got a strategist on the team. Which is good, because I’m all brawn and no brains.”
I grumble when Nyx laughs, throwing her head back for him. And I continue to grumble as the three of us turn, a newly formed team, heading toward the water as we were before.