Hollen the Soulless: A Fantasy Romance (Dokiri Brides Book 1)

by Denali Day

  Hollen had gone still. Was he even breathing? After a moment, he seemed to peel his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “And . . .what about you?”

  “You mean, why did I survive?”

  Some of the color drained from his face. Joselyn scowled, disgusted to be talking about this. But it was too late to stop now. She pressed on.

  “I asked my mother the same question. I saw her once, heard her talking to the apothecarist. I’d thought my birth had made her barren. That’s what she told everyone. When I confronted her about it and asked why she hadn’t done the same to me, she scoffed and said she would have, if she’d had the presence of mind.” She glanced away from him. “My mother was in love with her cups. Apparently, she’d been too drunk to call for the apothecarist in time.”

  After a moment, “How old were you?”

  “When I learned of this? Eleven.”

  Hollen glanced toward the fire, as though looking at her burned his eyes. She couldn’t fault him.

  Joselyn scooted the food around on the plate. “I didn’t understand why she did it, couldn’t appreciate what having a son meant to my father. That realization came later. And then my mother’s words to me that night finally made sense.”

  Hollen was silent, though she felt his gaze return to her.

  “She said, ‘It was a trivial oversight, sweet girl. You’ll never be enough for Marcus anyway.”

  Sick misery curled around her heart at the recollection. Hollen drew in a sharp breath, as though the memory had struck him. Joselyn plunged on, determined to get this over with.

  “I spent the next seven years determined to prove her wrong. I did everything I could imagine to endear myself to my father. At first, I did it for love. But eventually I grew up and, as you said, I realized that love wasn’t something my father was capable of giving. After that I worked to make myself useful. To prove I could be as loyal and self-sacrificing as any son he might have had.”

  She ground her molars together. It had never meant a damn thing to Lord Fury.

  “When I learned I was to be married to the Viridian lord, a part of me was happy. For the first time in my life, I had the chance to serve my house in the sort of way that’s unique to a woman. A way my father’s heir could never have done. Most ladies would have refused. I probably could have as well.”

  “But you didn’t,” Hollen murmured. She still wasn’t looking at him.

  “No. And even that wasn’t good enough for my father. He didn’t care. In his mind I was merely obeying orders, ceding to his wisdom.”

  “Then why . . .were you still so determined?”

  She shrugged. “Because it didn’t matter if he acknowledged what I did. I knew the truth. I was willing to sacrifice for my house. To do what he couldn’t. What my mother wouldn’t.”

  At last, she met his gaze. “And that gave me every right in the world to hate them both.”

  The fire crackled, and Hollen swallowed. His lips parted as though to speak, but his words must have caught in his throat. He looked stricken. Probably still reeling from the news that he’d worked so hard for so little. Joselyn dipped her chin.

  “So, that’s it, savage. All my wild deeds, boiled down to hateful spite.” She shot him a wretched smile and gestured at herself. “Thirty-six generations of highborn blood. And the only noble one in this bok is you.”

  “Joselyn, I’m sorry,” he sounded like he had that night in the springs. Horrified.

  “Don’t be.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Feel sorry for yourself, if anyone. Now you know what sort of woman you’ve claimed. Now you know what a favor I was doing you in trying to leave.”

  Hollen leaned forward, frowning. “What do you think’s changed after telling me this? Did you think to make me regret you?”

  She blinked. “Don’t you?”

  He gave an incredulous huff. “No.”

  She stopped breathing. “But you love your parents.”

  His frown deepened. “My parents were nothing like yours.”

  Clearly, she’d shocked him. She hadn’t given him enough time to think this through. She spoke a bit slower, even gesturing with her hands as if to guide him through her logic. “Your people love you. I don’t even know mine. I don’t do what I do because I care about them. I do it because I should.”

  He raised a brow. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Hollen, the only good thing about me is what I’m willing to do for my house. And now you’ve made it clear that I’ll never be able to help my people. You’ve taken my purpose away. What’s left? Just bitterness. Resentment.”

  His lips thinned as he listened to her. Joselyn’s throat began to tighten. She cursed every god she could think of as yet another round of tears welled in her eyes. She’d cried more in the last fortnight than she had in all her grown life.

  She swiped at a falling tear and her voice cracked. “I’m worthless.”

  Hollen rose up on his knees and shuffled over to her. She sat there sniffling, trying to regain control of herself. In one swift movement, he scooped her into his arms and settled her over his crossed legs. Joselyn didn’t even try to stop him. She was just too tired.

  “You’re wrong, mu hamma. Before, when I said I didn’t pity you, I lied. It didn’t make sense to me, what you’ve been doing. I didn’t understand why. But now I do.” He batted her hands away to wipe her tears himself. His rough fingers seemed to absorb them. “Joselyn, pity is the furthest thing from my mind.” He took her by the chin and forced her to meet his eyes. “I’m in awe of you.”

  That made her cry harder. She barely kept from whimpering like a babe even as more tears spilled down her temples and into her hair. Hollen kept up with them, petting each one dry as it fell. He didn’t really seem to notice them, though. He was staring into her eyes like the only thing that mattered was making his thoughts known to her. He went on.

  “You never had the opportunity to know your people. You don’t love them. They can’t love you. And still, you’ve put your life on the line to get back to them, because in your mind, it’s the right thing to do. No one was going to thank you for it. No one would ever have known why it was so important. But that didn’t stop you. Don’t you see how incredible that is?”

  Joselyn shook her head. Was this really happening? Had she truly just exposed the darkest part of herself to this man, only to have him wax on about how worthy he thought her? He leaned down and brushed a kiss on her forehead. His lips were warm on her skin, his beard soft. Joselyn closed her eyes as a ripple of comfort spread through her.

  “I don’t care that you hate your father, Joselyn. If it helps, I hate him too. And I don’t care that your motives for helping your people revolve around spiting him. Most people wouldn’t do what you did. If their parents treated them as yours treated you, they’d find other ways to reconcile it. They’d shirk their duties, destroy their family’s reputation, glanshi, they might even destroy themselves. And here you are confessing to me like some blasphemer? All because, instead of rolling around in the mire with your parents, you chose to rise above them?”

  Joselyn forced her gaze to his. She had to see if he was being serious. He was looking at her with a mixture of admiration and compassion. Had anyone ever looked at her quite like that? He raked his fingers through her hair.

  “Did you have no one to guide you, growing up?”

  Joselyn thought of Tansy. Though the old woman had been paid, no amount of money could have purchased her love. That had been a free gift. “My nurse. Tansy.”

  Hollen nodded once. “I’m grateful. No child should have been raised the way you were. And I’m certain no other child could have grown into the kind of person you’ve become. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met.”

  For the first time, Joselyn allowed herself to entertain his words. Maybe he really meant them. Of course, that didn’t make them true.

  “I don’t feel strong when I’m with you,” she said. “You make me want to be selfish an
d wanton. You make me want to give in to you and forget everything else.”

  Suddenly, Hollen’s demeanor seemed to shift. Though his hold on her remained gentle, every muscle in his body tightened. The soothing cadence dropped from his voice, an edge of challenge replacing it. Like he was going to battle. “You want to give in to me?”

  “If I did, would you still think me strong? Willingness to serve, loyalty, is true strength. As a leader of men, surely you can understand that.”

  He wrapped a hand around her upper arm and gave her a light squeeze. “Loyalty is only a strength when it’s placed in a good man.”

  It was true; Joselyn knew it. Yet somehow she’d spent her life convinced otherwise. Or rather, convinced she was in no position to judge her father’s worthiness. It was a mindset integral to a society where leaders were born, not chosen, as Hollen had been. For a moment, Joselyn allowed herself to explore the idea of a world where she could pick and choose her own loyalties. What would that be like?

  “You are a good man,” she murmured.

  Hollen’s lips parted on a ragged breath. He was so beautiful. Everything about him appealed to her, as though he’d been designed by some god who understood her inmost desires. Even his scent made her blood warm. Being this close to him was intoxicating. She reached up to run a palm over his beard. Her heart sped up when his eyes went heavy lidded with pleasure.

  “You’re attentive, and loyal, and selfless.” She smiled sadly. “You’re too good for me.”

  His eyes popped back open. “No, mu hamma. I know who you are. I think I might know it better than you know yourself.”

  She continued stroking at him and suppressed a shiver when he covered her hand with his own. His voice was throaty again. “We have time. I’m going to convince you.”

  They did have time. Joselyn could finally acknowledge that fact. She’d exhausted all her options. She was out of ideas. Leaving on her own was too dangerous and, Hollen had proven his own stubbornness was as great as hers. It was out of her hands.

  In that moment, an invisible weight lifted from her shoulders. She breathed deep in Hollen’s arms. Her heart raced with newfound freedom as the claws of guilt eased their grip.

  A year would be too late to save her father’s life. If not for her people’s good, what reason did she have to leave?

  She could think of a thousand reasons to stay.

  What would it be like to stay in Bedmeg forever? She’d wondered before, of course, but it had never seemed real. She’d never allowed her mind to revel in all the possibilities. The pain would have been too great. But now?

  She thought of her father’s favorite rebuke: “this world owes you nothing.”

  She looked into Hollen’s dark eyes, and saw her own hope reflected back at her.

  The world may not. But maybe, just maybe, Joselyn owed something to herself.

  30

  Gegatudok

  “Hollen! Hollen!”

  Joselyn’s ears perked up at male voices. It was rare to hear people using her savage’s name rather than his title. She and Hollen both paused from their sparring to look into the ravine at Erik and Magnus, who were rushing down toward the armory, their faces alight with excitement.

  Hollen called out to them in his language with concern carved into his features. His tone turned up in question at the end. Magnus plowed past Erik; his massive strides outpaced his older brother and propelled him toward she and Hollen. Thankfully, it was trade tongue that poured from his lips.

  “He’s done it! The little runt’s finally done it!” Magnus’ sandy hair whipped wildly as he spun around to race back up the ravine.

  Joselyn blinked. He hadn’t even paused. Erik, too, was already making his way back toward the caves. Joselyn jumped when Hollen slapped the dust off his palms and laughed.

  “Looks like lessons are over for today, mu hamma.”

  That was a stroke of good fortune. Hollen had resumed her instruction a fortnight ago and, though he did so gradually, he wasn’t shy about increasing the length and intensity with each passing day. Of course, he’d been making up for his ruthlessness with no small number of kisses and caresses in the evenings. Those little interludes had been growing more and more passionate with each passing day.

  Before Joselyn could ask what was going on, Hollen rushed shirtless into the snow. He slowed just enough to throw his hand back to her in invitation. She darted out from the cover of the cave and slipped her hand in his, allowing him to half pull her up the ravine. She hiked up her skirts, trying not to trip. Up ahead, Joselyn could see people pouring out of the common area. The buzz of their voices echoed off the canyon walls.

  “What’s happened?” she asked, though she thought she already knew.

  Hollen answered without slowing, “Sigvard. He’s mastered a gegatu!”

  Joselyn grinned as they trekked up to the same shelf where she’d made the sacrifice on the night of her feast. She and Hollen had to push their way through and around the frenzied crowd to join Erik, Ivan, and Magnus a good way back from the ledge.

  Joselyn was just about to ask what they were doing when a collective cheer rose up from the crowd below. Their faces were turned up to the gray sky. A black gegatu burst through the cloud bank and circled a rapid descent.

  On either side of her, Hollen and his brothers punched their fists into the air and whooped their praise of their youngest brother. Joselyn couldn’t see Sigvard, but she assumed he was on the beast’s back. The collective cheers were all in Dokiri, even those spoken by the women.

  Sigvard’s new mount spiraled toward the ground, and Joselyn realized it meant to land before them, upon the platform. Energy hummed through the crowd. To the side, Magnus’ deep voice began booming a Dokiri song that was instantly taken up by the people. Their volume intensified as the winged beast drew closer. If only she knew more of Hollen’s language, she could join in. The urge surprised her.

  At last, a flash of auburn hair showed over the shoulder of the scaly beast. Sigvard was sitting proudly up even before his steed’s clawed feet touched the ground. His excited eyes fixed on the clan below him. Joselyn recognized his wyvern by the white streak of spikes running down her neck and back. He had done it after all. A twinge of disappointment prickled. She’d hoped to witness the mastering herself. Then again, she thought of nearly falling to her death the last time and decided she was better off this way.

  Amidst the fervor, Joselyn felt warm hands upon her upper arms. She turned her head back to see Hollen pulling her into his chest. Joselyn leaned into his bare skin, inhaling his salty pine scent. Was he never cold? It seemed not, a fact that suited her just fine these days.

  “The Gegatudok is concluded with a rite.” Hollen said into her ear. “Tell me now if you don’t wish to participate.”

  Participate? Anxiety made her heart clench.

  Joselyn tried to steal a look into his eyes, but Hollen’s attention was torn away. Sigvard’s mount landed gingerly in the snow and shrieked at the gathered crowd. Joselyn shrunk at the horrifying sound, but no one else seemed bothered. They hollered further approval as Sigvard sat fully forward to pound his chest in salutation to the gathered onlookers. He was triumphant, gloriously pleased.

  Despite herself, Joselyn clapped for him. He’d long been working himself up to this monumental task, and she couldn’t contain the overwhelming sense of joy that filled her at his success. The corners of her mouth pulled into a wide grin as Sigvard jumped down from his mount’s back and strode toward his family. Behind him, his gegatu hissed at the crowd, but remained where she was, her eye upon her new master.

  The noise died down as Sigvard addressed his brothers in Dokiri, his gaze particularly upon Hollen, who stepped out from behind Joselyn to face the younger man head on. Some of Joselyn’s enthusiasm dampened at being left out of the conversation. People here were usually very careful to use trade tongue around her, so she had the distinct impression that whatever was being said was meant to be said in the father t
ongue.

  At the end of Sigvard’s speech, his gaze slid to Joselyn. His usual impishness was gone. His eyes danced with manly pride, and Joselyn had to smile. Hollen answered Sigvard with a string of Dokiri words, followed by the other three brothers’ confirmation.

  “Va!” They said in unison the Dokiri word for ‘yes.’

  The crowd resumed their cheers as the men echoed ‘va,’ and the women trilled and ululated alongside them. Hollen’s hand brushed Joselyn’s lower back. He stepped toward Sigvard. The auburn-haired boy, no, man, eagerly shed his furs and wool shirt. His pale, freckled skin seemed to reflect the winter light. His idadi was nearly nonexistent. That was about to change.

  Hollen stepped around Sigvard and put his back to the crowd so they could watch as he performed the rite. Anticipation lit Sigvard’s face as he turned to face the clan. Did no one here fear having their skin carved? Sigvard stood stone still with his hands at his sides as Hollen brought the knife up to the right side of his chest. Beside her, Erik sidled up to Joselyn and began murmuring a translation of Hollen’s words as he worked the blade into their brother’s skin.

  “Son of my mother.”

  Sigvard’s head inclined an inch as Hollen spoke.

  “Today Regna sees you, just as I see you standing before me.”

  “Elsa Regna!” the men cried.

  “The sons of the sky acknowledge your strength.”

  The men in the crowd saluted, pounding their fists upon their chests.

  “The sky itself bears witness to your deeds, and may your flesh recount the tale for all your days.”

  The crowd cheered. Hollen was smiling. For all the grief Sigvard gave him, it was clear he was proud of his brother. Hollen lowered the knife, cupped his hand to Sigvard’s chest, and waited. After a moment, he turned to the crowd and flicked Sigvard’s blood over the people’s heads. They roared their approval. Joselyn swallowed hard as her savage drew a damp thumb from the center of his hairline, down his forehead and along the ridge of his nose. A crimson streak trailed behind.