Mastered by the Berserkers (Berserker Brides #8) - Lee Savino Page 0,19

never beg.”

“Be careful, Juliet.” His growl sounded like a threat. “You should not be so quick to vow what you do not—”

“Enough.” Fenrir’s deep voice echoed through the lodge. He rose from his crouch by the fire spit, dusting off his hands. “The meat is done. It’s time to eat.”

“Fine.” Jarl stomped to the fire.

I burrowed into the pelts, wondering how long I could hide.

“Juliet?” Fenrir called. He was at the foot of the bed with a plate of half a pheasant.

My stomach growled.

“Come out,” Jarl waved. “I call truce.”

“Truce,” I agreed, and slid out, wincing at the soreness in my bottom. I sat on the edge of the big bed and let my legs dangle as I picked the hot meat off the bones. The men sat on stumps around the fire.

For a while it was peaceful. Nothing but the crackling fire and snow falling beyond the makeshift door.

“You like pheasant?” Fenrir asked.

“I like food.” I lifted a wing and tore the meat off it. I sucked the bones clean of grease and cleaned my fingers. When I raised my head, I realized both warriors had stopped eating to watch me. They sat so still, they reminded me of wolves on the hunt.

I set the plate aside, flushing. “This is good, thank you. We did not eat much meat in the abbey.”

“You did not have much in the abbey,” Fenrir did not ask a question.

“No. I was an orphan. And then I took a vow of poverty.”

Jarl leaned forward and spat bones into the fire. “Why?”

I glared at him. “I wished to serve God.”

Jarl shook his head, muttering to himself.

“We don’t understand,” Fenrir said softly.

“Of course you don’t,” I burst out. “You don’t even try.”

“Tell us, then. Tell us of your god.”

My mouth dropped open a moment before I found my voice. “You wish to know of my God?”

Jarl shrugged. “We have many. There is room for one more.” He stretched out his legs.

I licked my lips. “There is but one god.”

“Oh?” Jarl went to the cask in the corner and poured a horn of mead. He didn’t seem overly interested but when I hesitated, he nodded for me to go on.

“He made all the world, and everything in it.” I shifted in my seat. My bottom still prickled from my punishment.

“And how did he make it?”

“He spoke words.” My own words came out quavery and unsure. “He spoke the world into being. He said “Light” and there was light.”

“Words? He sounds like a priest.” Jarl put the horn to his lips and drained it.

I twisted my hands together. “You are mocking me.”

“Never,” Fenrir said. He stroked his dark beard. “You gave yourself to this god, yes? Pledged your fealty?”

“I made vows. Holy vows.” Could it be possible? Would they really listen to me? Perhaps I could convince them of my intent to hold myself apart from the world. To remain pure.

Perhaps I could convince them to let me go.

“You are a priestess,” Fenrir said. “Did you lead the holy ceremonies?”

“No. The abbess did, at times. My role was to serve. To work and pray and live a worthy life.”

“Why?” Jarl asked.

“Why?” I repeated, not understanding.

“Why would you do this?” Jarl leaned close. “What is the reward?”

Reward? “Service is its own reward.”

Jarl scoffed.

“A warrior knows if he shows valor and dies in battle, he will go to Valhalla.”

“What is Valhalla?” I shook my head when Jarl offered me his horn.

“A marvelous place. There’s a great lodge and vast table. The warriors gather and war against each other until sundown. At night there’s a great feast with endless mead. Then the next day, they do it all again.” Jarl lifted his horn in a toast. “To Valhalla.”

“Valhalla,” Fenrir echoed, and both drained their horns. “Valhalla and Valkyries.”

“Valkyries,” Jarl slapped his knee.

“What are Valkyries?” I asked.

“Warrior women. Odin’s daughters. Beautiful and deadly.” Jarl winked at me. “They serve the worthy.”

I rolled my eyes. Of course these warriors would believe in an afterlife with endless fighting and feasting, with goddess-like beauties serving them. “That sounds like something a warrior would want to believe.”

“It is,” Jarl said.

“And you, Juliet?” Fenrir asked, leaning forward. “What is it you want to believe?”

My hand flew to my neck. “What?”

Jarl waved a hand. “Forget him. Where do you go when you die?”

“To heaven, if I am good. But that is not why I wish to be good and free of sin. I truly want to be pure and holy. To live a worthy life dedicated to God.