Chapter 21
Fenric
Nyx says, “What?” but Thorian understands exactly what I’m asking for.
The demi-god nods once. No hesitation. No questions. Just acceptance.
That should probably worry me.
Instead, I find myself staring back at the swamp.
The black water waits beyond the platforms, perfectly still now that Cedric is gone. The sight of it makes my stomach tighten. Not just because I’m afraid of the swamp and dying painfully in it. But because I’m afraid of myself.
Most people hear the word berserker and think of strength.
They imagine warriors who can’t be killed, men who tear through armies and walk away untouched.
They never think about what it costs. They never think about the moments afterward, when you’re standing in a field of bodies and trying to remember what happened.
Trying to remember if you were the one who put them there.
I haven’t lost control often. My father was careful to teach me. But even so, there are gaps. Moments I can’t account for. Broken memories. Blood on my hands that I don’t remember spilling. Every berserker learns to fear the beast eventually. To fear the loss of control.
The thought of willingly letting it loose again makes my pulse pound.
My family flashes through my mind. My mother. My sister and my brother. The tiny farm. The slavers.
The chains.
Every day they remain where they are is another day I’ve failed them. The thought settles deep in my bones. I don’t have the luxury of fear.
Not anymore.
Thorian turns and says something quietly to Nyx. She looks between us with obvious suspicion before finally sighing. When he kneels, encouraging her onto his back, a sharp twist lances through my chest. Jealousy.
I hate it immediately.
Nyx climbs onto him carefully, her arms wrapping around his waist while he steadies her legs. The sight shouldn’t bother me. It’s practical. Logical. The smartest solution we have.
Yet it does.
Maybe because I woke up beside her this morning. Maybe because I woke up warm and feeling loved and safe for the first time in a long time.
The memory arrives uninvited. Waking in the night to find Nyx sleeping between us. Her hair smelling faintly of flowers and sweetness. The weight of her pressed against my body. The simple comfort of another person being close.
Gods. I can’t remember the last time I felt so relaxed. The last few months have been filled with work, worry, and impossible goals. Every waking moment has been spent trying to find a way to free my family. Somewhere along the way, I stopped allowing myself to want things.
Then Nyx arrived.
Now I find myself wanting things again. Dangerous things. Stupid things. Things that have no place in the middle of the Trials.
“Are you okay?” Nyx asks Thorian. She brushes a loose strand of hair from her face. “Am I too heavy?”
Thorian actually laughs. The bastard actually laughs. Then he bounces her once, earning an indignant sound.
“You weigh nothing,” he says. “Just hold on.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Considering I could carry a hundred of you, yes.”
Nyx rolls her eyes.
I try not to smile.
I fail.
Because despite everything, despite the monsters and the swamp and the looming possibility of death, the two of them make all of it feel strangely normal.
Then I notice the way she looks at him. The way he looks at her. It’s enough to make me wonder. What exactly is happening between them? And why do I care so much?
My gaze drifts back to Nyx before I can stop it. She catches me looking. It’s just for a moment. Not long enough for either of us to react. But it is long enough for warmth to settle in my chest.
She’s scared. Exhausted. Determined. And somehow still here. Still fighting. Still willing to step into a death trap to save her sister.
We’re doing this for the same reason. Family. Love. Duty. The willingness to throw ourselves into impossible situations because the people we care about are worth more than our own safety.
I don’t know what happens after the Trials.
I don’t know if any of us survive. But I want her to.
I want her to make it across. I want her sister saved.
I want her to have the future she keeps risking her life for.
I even picture my family and I celebrating with her and her sister, eating goose and candied carrots.
Be brave, I tell myself. For your family. For hers. For the woman currently riding on another man’s back while making you question your life choices.
I draw a deep breath and turn back to Thorian.
“So,” he says. “A punch in the face.”
I grimace. “Unfortunately.”
“You sure?”
“No.”
That earns a small laugh from Nyx.
Gods help me, I like the sound.
“Good enough,” Thorian says.
“And after that I should be pissed off enough to want to kill you in my berserker state. I’ll follow you across the water. Just don’t let me catch you.”
He nods solemnly. “Understood.”
I barely have time to brace myself. Pain explodes across the side of my face. The world spins. I hit the ground hard enough to see stars. Blood instantly fills my mouth, warm and metallic.
Somewhere above me, Nyx gasps. “Thorian!”
When I look up, blinking through the bright, blinding pain, I see Thorian giving me, to his credit, a sheepish look, his dark eyebrows knit together as he stares down at me, Nyx peering over his shoulder.
Even looking at her like this, through blood and the searing pain in my face, she's gorgeous.
Her dark hair has partially escaped its careful braid, loose strands sticking to her flushed cheeks from the heat.
Sweat glistens along her skin, and her clothes are dusty from the desert, but somehow none of it diminishes her.
If anything, it makes her seem more real. More human. More herself.
It's not just that she's beautiful. Plenty of women are beautiful.
It's the stubborn set of her jaw. The worry in those hazel eyes as she looks down at me.
The fact that she's exhausted, terrified, and standing on the edge of a death swamp, yet she's still here.
Still fighting. Still willing to throw herself into danger for someone she loves.
Just looking at her seems to dull the ache in my face, and I'm immediately aware of how ridiculous that is.
The last thing I need right now is a crush on this woman.
Especially considering she and Thorian obviously have feelings for each other.
I don't know exactly what they are to one another, but they look at each other too often.
Trust each other too easily. And every time I catch it, jealousy twists in my chest.
Not that it matters. The demi-god barely tolerates my existence on a good day. And very soon, there's a decent chance I'm going to turn into a monster.
“I thought it would help if it was sudden,” Thorian says, drawing me out of my thoughts.
“Fuck,” I mutter, as the pain rushes back in. I straighten up slowly and touch a hand to my face, which is tender and throbbing. But I’m not angry, just frustrated and surprised, brain muddled by the pain. “Hold on a second… don’t hit me again. Until I say.”
“Okay,” Thorian says, adding something of a sorry in his tone. I wonder if the guy has ever apologized before, or if demi-gods are incapable of it.
I repeat myself, knowing how important this is. “When I’m like that, I can’t promise what I’ll do. What I do know is that if you’re the one to make me angry, I’ll follow you across the swamp. I meant it when I said you need to stay ahead of me.”
“Got it,” Thorian says, nodding and tucking his hand under Nyx’s thigh, hiking her up a little higher on his back.
Her face flushes, and jealousy rolls through me again, hot and sticky.
For good measure, Thorian adds, “I held back with that first hit, I will with the others, too. If I go as hard as I can, I could kill you. I’ll try to do just enough to piss you off. ”
Right. Because he’s a demi-god, a single punch from him could send my nose through the back of my skull. If I wasn’t already well aware of his strength, I’m simmering now in the fact that he’s better than me. Faster and bigger, and the one with Nyx on his back.
I glance backward over my shoulder, see the knights on the platforms making their way steadily toward the other side of the swamp as the platforms sink behind them. They look slow, shaky, like they’ve catapulted from young to middle-aged or older. Like now they have bad knees.
There’s no guarantee that I’m going to make it through this. Over Nyx’s shoulder, I see the vampires begin their path across, jumping on the platforms lightning quick, each of them touching down before the next lands, almost like dancers. And then I look at the platforms before us. We can do this.
“You ready, man?” Thorian asks, and I swallow, turning back to him and nodding.
He punches me again, and this time, I don’t fall to the ground. I take it, glad that once I come out of my other form, I’ll be healed. The last thing I need is a swollen, broken face for the rest of the Trials.
Another hit. Another. Thorian swears under his breath, and Nyx says something with a concerned voice, but I can’t quite make it out through the pain. I keep waiting to get pissed off, to be mad, but it’s not working.
I try to think about my family.
Not the happy memories. Not my sister and brother laughing while they worked in the garden. Not my mother humming while she cooked supper. Not my father teaching me how to mend fences.
I need anger. Real anger. The kind that grabs ahold of you and makes it hard to breathe.
My thoughts drift back to the day I came home and found them gone. Even now, months later, I can remember every detail. The farm had been quiet.
At first, I hadn't thought much of it. I'd been carrying a sack of feed over one shoulder, already thinking about supper and whether my siblings had managed to finish repairing the chicken coop. Then I'd noticed the silence.
No voices.
No animals.
No movement.