Chapter Nineteen: Marked

SIGRUN

I was dreaming about his hands when Conny's voice pulled me under.

I surfaced slowly. Morning light was coming through the tent seams.

"Good morning, Yer Highness!" came her chirpy voice.

I sat up. And then, because I was so genuinely, pathetically relieved to see a familiar face, I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

Conny froze. Then she giggled like a schoolgirl, palm flying to her cheek. Rita came in behind her, carrying clothes in her arms.

"Hi," I greeted with a megawatt smile.

"Hi?" Rita replied confusedly, like she couldn't understand the word.

She gave me that strange look she'd been giving me ever since I woke up in this world.

Right. I'd forgotten. "Hi" was not yet a thing here.

I had a feeling she already suspected that there was something not quite right about me.

"Yer Highness." She bowed finally and set the clothes down. "I brought ye two dresses so you can make yer choice."

She held each dress up. One was a pink short-sleeve with a low neck and a cute flowery pattern. The other was deep green and long-sleeved with a high collar. Both were equally beautiful.

Before I could respond with my choice, Conny gasped, her eyes dropping to my neck.

"Gods!" Her hand flew to her mouth. "Yer Highness, what happened to ye?!"

My hand flew to my neck on reflex.

Oh no.

Oh no no no.

Don't tell me he had —

The tenderness was immediate and specific and located exactly where his mouth had bitten and—.

My face was aflame before I'd even finished the thought. Oh, good Lord, he'd given me hickeys.

Concerned, Rita came forward and gently moved aside the straps of my shift in turn.

Yep. Hickeys everywhere. My neck, my shoulders, my breasts. He'd left his marks.

You are mine.

I turned even redder.

Both women stared at me openmouthed.

"I, um." I lowered my hand. "Must have scratched myself. In my sleep." It was a bald-faced lie if I ever told one.

Rita tried and failed to hide a smile. She cleared her throat quietly and said dryly, "Well. The green dress it is."

*

Outside, the camp was already mostly packed. Tents coming down, horses lined up, fire dying.

Varul was nowhere to be seen. I did, however, lock eyes with Darren for a few uncomfortable seconds. It was awkward as hell. I could make out the amusement in his eyes.

I looked away quickly and focused on the beautiful lacey things hanging down the cuffs of my gown.

To my immense relief, Conny appeared beside me with bread and a cup of dark liquid. I realized how ravenous I was. Because I didn't bother asking her what it was.

I took a tentative sip of the drink and immediately followed it with a huge sip. It was fucking delicious. Sweet with the right amount of tart and spice.

"Mmm. What is it?" I asked, downing the cup. I couldn't help smacking my lips.

I took a huge bite of bread. Even that tasted divine.

Conny giggled. "Blackberry gin and cauliflower bread, Yer Highness. Both of them are Northern specialties. The Northeners brought it with them."

"Ooh, they're quite nice," I said, seriously wondering why Veera hadn't given it to me last night. I held out my empty cup to Conny and smiled sweetly. "Could you get me more?"

"Certainly, Yer Highness. I shall get more from Rita at the cooking stand."

When Conny left, my eyes moved across the crowd with the particular lack of direction they had been demonstrating all morning, looking for a specific dark head without quite admitting to it.

I found him.

Far edge of the camp, with Darren and another man, all three were looking at something that Darren was holding open. I couldn't really tell exactly what it was, but it looked like a rolled-out scroll. Suddenly, as though he'd felt me staring, Varul looked up and locked eyes with me.

I remembered his hands at my waist in the water. His mouth against my collarbone. Ethereal, he'd called me.

Heat coursed pleasantly through my body. Then the corner of his mouth moved. Not a smile. The suggestion of one.

Private.

Like we shared something the rest of the camp wasn't party to.

Which we did.

Which was exactly the problem.

I looked away first.

I always looked away first.

I stared hard at a tent peg and waited for my face to return to its normal temperature. I am in so much trouble, I thought.

Conny returned with my second serving of breakfast, and the huge sip I took this time had more to do with anxiety than taste.

"Yer Highness?" Conny's voice was curious.

"Mm."

"Yer very pink."

"It's cold," I said.

"Oh? It is actually quite mild this morn—"

"Give it a rest, Conny."

"Aye, Yer Highness," she mumbled.

In my peripheral vision, I could still see him. Even worse now was that I could hear his voice in my head, like a tape looped on repeat, as he commanded me to get into the pool with him.

Yep.

It was official. I was losing my mind.

At this point, I was desperate for a distraction. I needed information that would make Varul less — whatever he currently was to me. Dangerous to my mental health. Catastrophic to my ability to stop fucking blushing whenever he was in my vicinity.

I turned to Conny. "Conny?"

"Aye, Yer Highness?"

"What do you know about the Alpha? Assume I have never heard anything about him before. That I hit my head hard when I fell." I gripped her hands.

"Tell me everything. Even the most gory details. Don't worry, I won't run away in the middle of the night, this time." I finished breathlessly, hoping she hadn't heard the sheer desperation in my tone.

But I shouldn't have bothered. Conny lived for gossip. She glowed with delight. She glanced around furtively.

"Well." She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "He was born in the Harsh Winter. In the North, they say that means something."

I shuffled closer. "Means what?"

"Now, Yer Highness, the North is always cold..."

I nodded to let her know I was following.

"But the Harsh Winter is the coldest the Northern realm has ever seen. It is said that the wolves born in the Harsh Winter are different." She glanced around. "Stronger. Harder to kill. Like the cold gets into them when they are small and, ye know, becomes one with them."

I thought about the pool last night. The way he'd been so comfortable in the cold, it barely seemed to touch him.

Figures.

"His father's name was Kannan. He was the Alpha before him," Conny continued. "But Kanaan and his Luna — that is, Alpha Varul's mother— were both found dead in their palace." Her voice turned even lower.

"Blood everywhere. One servant swore there was so much blood it ran through the cracks in the stone floor and dripped into the kitchens below."

I narrowed my eyes, trying to imagine how possible that was.

Conny nodded solemnly. "Aye. My aunt Welma swears it is true."

I took a bite of cauliflower bread. I gotta hand it to her, Conny knew how to give a good gossip. "Your aunt was there?"

"No. But her cousin's husband had a brother whose sweetheart worked for a rancher in the North."

I blinked. "Huh."

She held up a finger. "Some folk say Kanaan's throat was ripped open. Others say it was an axe. Others say nobody could even recognize him afterward. And one time, a travelling merchant at the Farmer's Market said Alpha Kanaan's servants had to scrape bits of him off the council chamber walls."

I glanced down at the bread in my hands, suddenly losing my appetite. "God."

My eyes strayed back to Varul's direction. He was alone now, saddling that giant horse of his. I felt even more queasy when I remembered that I would be riding on my own horse soon enough.

Conny mirrored my stance and looked towards Varul's direction. We both watched him mount his horse gracefully.

She lowered her voice even further. "My aunt also says he drank his father's blood."

I scoffed. Now, that was definitely a rumour. I watched him adjust the reins. The morning light caught the sharp line of his jaw.

Conny sighed beside me. "See, that's the strange thing," she said.

"What?" I asked distractedly. Those powerful thighs of his were painting a perfect picture.

"Ye should be terrified of him. Ye were so terrified of him a few days ago."

I tore my gaze away. "Well, maybe I still am," I said a little defensively.

Conny snorted. "I respectfully doubt that, Yer Highness."

"Why?"

"Because yer staring at him like ye'd volunteer to be eaten."