Mastered by the Berserkers (Berserker Brides #8) - Lee Savino Page 0,41

climbed toward her hairline. “Truly? The priest married you? Twice? To two different men?”

“It wasn’t like he wanted to do it.” I rubbed my forehead. “The warriors would’ve killed him.”

Sabine snickered. Muriel poked her.

“We will speak to the Alphas,” Muriel assured me. “They will listen to your side of things.”

“Thank you.” I sagged in my seat.

“Have no fear.” Muriel took my hand. “It will be well.”

Sabine’s head was bowed and her eyes closed. I hoped she was relaying the information to her Alpha mates.

I turned to Muriel. “Tell me of the girls. All the spaewives. How is everyone?”

“They are well.” Muriel’s face brightened. “Laurel had her baby. A son. Looks just like his father.”

“Which one?” I asked.

“Ulfarr. The one who was scarred in a fire.”

Sabine raised her head. For a moment, her eyes glinted with a bright yellow light.

“Hazel will give birth next,” she said with calm assurance. I wanted to ask how she knew, but bit my tongue. I knew she was an herbalist and was training with witches to learn their craft. It seemed she also was learning the midwife arts.

“I want to be there,” I said. I had wanted to be there for Laurel’s birth, but had stayed away because of the fever. “That is, if she’ll have me.”

“Of course she’ll have you,” Muriel said. “You are the closest to a mother the orphans have known. And there are plenty more babies coming. We will be busy this spring.”

“And summer. And fall,” Sabine added with a sly arch of her brow.

Muriel blushed and put a hand to her belly.

“The unmated spaewives—the girls,” I asked. “Are they well?”

A shadow crossed Sabine’s face. “We have moved them to the Alphas’ cave where they are easier to guard.”

Oh dear. I did not like to hear that the girls had been uprooted again. “Is that because Jarl and Fenrir took me? Because—”

“No,” Sabine cut me off. “It’s not because you were stolen. There are fewer warriors available to guard because we are at war with the Corpse King.”

The breath left my chest. “We are?”

“We must move against him, soon,” Muriel’s brow furrowed as she looked to her sister for confirmation. “The witches have decided.”

“Why now?” I twisted the folds of my gown in my fingers.

“We think he might have more power soon,” Sabine said grimly. She looked different, somehow, more remote, the sharp planes of her figure cut from shadow. “We must fight him before it’s too late and he cannot be stopped.”

“More power?” I breathed. “How?”

There was a pause and Muriel said, “Rosalind woke.”

“She’s all right?” Rosalind had sustained a head wound and been unconscious for days.

“She is gone. Somehow, she woke and fled the mountain. Wulfgar says he doesn’t know how she slipped through the guards again.” Muriel bit her lip.

“We believe she is in league with the Corpse King,” Sabine said.

“That’s impossible.” I wracked my memory. All those times Rosalind was angry and brooding. She hated the Berserkers and hated her fate.

Perhaps it was possible.

“There’s no way she slipped away without help. And Sorrel told us why Rosalind left the first time. She was trying to aid the Corpse King.”

I covered my mouth with my hand. Oh Rosalind, what have you done?

“It’s all right,” Muriel patted my hand. “All will be well.”

“Sister Juliet,” a warrior was at the door. I rose, smoothing down my dress. “The Alphas are ready for you.”

12

Juliet

I followed the warrior down the mountain path to the place of the standing stones. Sabine and Muriel came with me, and for that I was glad, or as glad as I could be under the circumstances.

A great crowd of warriors had assembled in the clearing. Some stalked as wolves through the crowd. As I stepped into their ranks, a path formed, and I followed it to the fires and the great stones where the Alphas sat. Each footstep I took was matched by the beat of the drums. My own heart fluttered wildly out of time, but when I came to my place, I composed my face. I would remain calm.

Jarl and Fenrir stood to the side; their hands bound in front of them. I felt their gaze flit over me, and the featherlight mental touch of their minds to mine. Checking to see I was unhurt.

The drums boomed louder, their rhythm faster, and the Alphas filed in. I fisted my hands at my sides.

I could do this.

The largest warrior, a blond with a great beard, sat on a stone throne. This was Samuel, one of Brenna’s