The Hanged One
Page 4
“Get up. Get up!” The Hanged Man slithered across her brain.
Wolfric staggered to her feet, nearly pitching face first into...clouds. In the distance, a great hall sprawled on the crest of several hills, connected by a series of bridges.
Ceadda curled in a plume of cloud vapor by her side, his ribs rising with metered breathes. He was alive. Tears burned her eyes and she pressed them back with the heel of her hand.
“Wipe your tears, girl, there is much work to be done. You are my special pawn. Show some backbone.”
She dabbed the escaped moisture at the corner of her eye and bit her lip to keep more from flowing. None of this made sense. Maybe she was dead. Maybe this was heaven. “Why me?”
Ripples of dark laughter vibrated in her skull. “You steal life to live.”
The world narrowed to a fine point at his words. He couldn’t know that. No one knew the murder she’d done. “More lies,” she spat.
“I have seen it all. You showed me your many sins the moment you touched the stone. Your hands are stained red with innocent life. Tonight was not your first feast in blood.”
Her head spun as the heavens fell to ground. “How?” She swallowed, tasting copper.
“You are the only mortal to hang and live to tell the tale. You are the one who hung, and, so we bind.”
Her body tensed, heart aching with frost. How could he know that? The only other person, besides herself, with knowledge of the hanging was her father, and he would never speak of it.
“Everything that you are or will ever be is tied to me. We are yoked, girl.”
Ragged breaths wheezed through her lungs, the stench of swinging a corpse filling her nostrils. Her stomach heaved. It should have been her neck on the noose. Her body rotting on that tree. If she had been less of a coward that girl wouldn’t have died.
“That girl was your sacrifice. You will have more, Imogen.” His voice looped around her ribs, cinching them tighter together.
It should have been her.
She could never go back to being that child. That much was clear now. “I am Wolfric. Imogen hanged for her crimes.” Odin’s laughter was thunder rolling across the plains of her mind—the sound ringing with cruelty and edged with pleasure. He enjoyed her pain.
“Come, girl, I will make you a god.”
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About The Author
Kit Caine
Kit Caine is a YA fantasy writer who loves tales with a healthy dose of romance and magic gone awry. Most of her time is spent in front of her computer, creating stories that make her pulse race. If you like fantasy with romance that doesn’t overwhelm the plot then Kit’s tales might just be for you. You can find out more at kitcaine.com or on her instagram @kit.caine.