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

by Denali Day

  Could this be true? Had she gone her whole life not realizing her firmly held beliefs were little more than her father’s own propaganda? Joselyn shook her head as her mind tried to put the possibility into perspective. What did this mean?

  “Are you saying any man could run our lands as my father does?”

  Tansy didn’t answer, only pinned her with a contemptuous gaze. Joselyn’s cheeks burned.

  “But, what of House Fury? What of duty?”

  “When last I checked, Marcus Fury was Lord of Tirvine, not you, Joselyn. Whatever evil your father is hoping to dodge by marrying you to a monster, I think it’s his burden to bear.”

  Shame sunk low in her belly even as a great burden lifted from her shoulders. Tansy was a peasant, uneducated, and led by her heart more than her mind. But she was also wise from the gut and her very soul was gilded in platinum. Her nurse was holding nothing back, and Joselyn would be a fool to ignore her.

  “As for duty, do you not have a duty to the man you love? What of your heart, child? Would you bind yourself to another? Body and spirit? Even knowing that what you give belongs to someone else?”

  Joselyn began to look away, but Tansy stopped her with a soft hand on either cheek.

  “I know you didn’t ask for this, child. None of us ask for our fates. But the gods dole them out all the same. Perhaps you should consider the possibility that Joselyn Helena Elise Fury is destined to be more than a pawn on the gameboard of lords.”

  Joselyn’s brow furrowed even as her lips thinned. She wanted to believe what her nurse was saying, wanted to live it. But there was so much at stake. Her duties aside, she was now a relative prisoner of her father, locked in a gilded cage.

  “Tansy,” Joselyn’s voice quaked with the fragile hope swirling in her chest, “I’m to be married the night after next. And my . . .Hollen, he has no idea where to find me. Nor have I any idea how to return to him.”

  Tansy released Joselyn’s face only to clasp her by the hand. She smiled then, as though every obstacle had already been removed. And, perhaps, the only one that really mattered already had.

  “Faith, child.”

  36

  Kept Vows

  The previous night’s clouds had made it difficult for Hollen to scout ahead. Even so, he knew retrieving his bride would be no simple feat. She was guarded by hundreds of armed and trained soldiers. Perhaps worse, she’d been confined to the inner walls of a castle, her exact location a mystery. That was his first obstacle.

  Hollen had waited the remainder of the night and several hours into the morning for an opportunity. He’d shed his armor and furs for the inconspicuous wool garments beneath them. Winter had come early to the lowlands, but he wasn’t cold. Not here in this soft world. He’d torn the bones from his hair and covered his scars. With luck, he’d look like an overly large vagrant in search of work.

  The village streets bustled with movement. Hundreds of people were here, more than Hollen had ever seen in one place. Everything smelled strange. Things that seemed fantastic to him, like great iron carts being wheeled through the square, elicited no response from others. He swallowed and remembered to keep his eyes down. He had to blend in for now.

  Finally, the castle guard exchanged shifts with the daytime patrol. Those who’d stood watch through the night took their leisure in the village surrounding the castle. Hollen had spent the morning occupying himself with whatever menial tasks he could convince someone to pay him for. He was helping a lumberjack unload his wagon when Hollen’s opportunity walked by.

  Two pairs of laughing guards and a silent, solitary one were making their way for the nearby tavern. Hollen insisted on half his pay before hurrying in the direction of the alehouse. The solitary guard, short and thin, looked despondent. Perfect.

  “Friend, have you no one to drink with?” Hollen was suddenly very aware of his guttural accent. He tamed it as best he could, but there was only so much to be done. At least no one outside Bedmeg would be able to place its origin.

  The young soldier stopped and looked around, as though he were surprised to be addressed. Hollen met his eyes and smiled. The guard looked him up and down. At least there was no disdain on his face.

  “How could you tell?” the man asked, gesturing to the pair of men walking on ahead of him.

  Hollen shrugged. “You look how I feel. Come, let’s keep each other company.”

  The man pursed his lips. “Aye. Though one drink is all I’ll be having on a guard’s wages.”

  “A lumberjack earns just enough to buy for a friend.”

  The soldier regarded Hollen with an hint of surprise that morphed into delight. Hollen clapped a hand over his shoulder and led him into the alehouse.

  Hollen had to steady his new “friend,” Harris, by the time they left. It had become increasingly difficult for Hollen to play the charming companion once Harris began relaying the details of Lady Fury’s recapture. And impending marriage. Hollen hadn’t even needed to raise the subject. It seemed nothing was more interesting to the townsfolk here.

  “Stay with me, today, Harris. I’m renting a room from an old widow that’s bound to be warmer than whatever barn they have you lot holed up in.” They stepped into the street and blinked against the midday sun.

  Harris grimaced. “Tents! They put us in tents. Bloody things don’t even keep you dry when it starts to rain. I never thought I’d miss the swiving barracks.”

  Harris staggered hard, and Hollen had to grab him to keep him from falling. Hollen didn’t look forward to getting this pitiful man alone and making him answer questions. He’d try for the easy way first. Glancing back, he nodded at the castle.

  “Where do they keep a noble woman in a place like that? The lower level? Can’t imagine ladies are keen to climb stairs with their tiny little feet.”

  Harris snorted. “You’d think so. But no, only the best for the fancy folk. Including the views. Gotta stay up high where they can look down on us common-folk like the ants we are.”

  Harris swung an arm back toward Castle Arland and pointed at the third highest tower. “There. That’s where they be keeping the fiery wench.”

  Hollen raised a brow. That was easy. He’d anticipated having to lure Harris into a secluded area and use an aggressive brand of persuasion to get answers. His heart leapt at his good fortune. Not only did he know exactly where to find Joselyn, but she was held in a room with an exterior window. His mind was already working out how he would extract her when Harris stumbled to his knees.

  Hollen pulled him to his feet. “I’ve had too much to drink, my friend.” It was a lie of course. Hollen had barely touched his drink, focusing instead on keeping Harris’ full. “I forgot that the old woman said no guests were permitted. She probably meant whores, but…”

  “Eh!” Harris half shouted, tearing his arm out of Hollen’s hand in mock outrage. “You should be so lucky to afford me!”

  Hollen forced a laugh, ignoring every instinct to take off running toward Joselyn. There was nothing he could do for the time being anyway. “I’ll be out cutting trees the next two days. If you’re still here when I return, meet me back at the tavern? Good company is hard to come by.”

  In truth, Harris was terrible company. The man did little more than grumble about every detail of his miserable life. But he smiled broadly at Hollen’s suggestion and vowed to do exactly that before stumbling his way back toward the temporary encampment for House Fury’s men.

  Hollen watched him go, then strolled out of town. He and Jagomri would have to wait for their opportunity. When he reached the woods, his mount’s hiding place, Hollen regarded the obsidian wyvern with a flash of determined hope.

  “We found her.”

  The preparations had been made. Joselyn was ready. She sat at a vanity with a silver-polished looking glass and stared at her reflection. The waning sunlight cast an orange halo around her head that truly made her hair seem aflame. She was warmly dressed, clad in finely woven wool that reflected the rapidly
approaching winter.

  Who had she become? In a handful of weeks, she’d gone from Lady Fury, dutiful daughter of Marcus Fury, to what?

  I am the Saliga of Bedmeg. I am the Saliga of Bedmeg.

  She closed her eyes and repeated the internal affirmation. Perhaps if she thought it often enough, her actions would make more sense. This was it. After tonight, she’d prove her parents right. Justified or not, Joselyn was always destined to choose herself over House Fury.

  Her gaze slid away from the mirror.

  There was a knock at the door, and Joselyn called her nurse in, turning to face her as she entered.

  “Are you ready child?”

  Joselyn inhaled and relaxed her shoulders as she breathed out. “All went well?”

  Tansy grabbed her by the hand and gave her a gentle squeeze. “Yes, child. I’ve sent word to my nephew in Wind Slope. He’ll be waiting for you. Now, we just need to get you to the stables. I paid off one of the boys with your broach.”

  Joselyn smiled at her nurse. Tansy was a force to be reckoned with. Joselyn had always known it, but had never experienced the extent of her deviousness until now. That she would risk all to see her charge to happiness was a testament of love. Joselyn’s heart swelled.

  “Tansy, if your role in this is discovered, I—”

  “Hush.” She was already turning to the door, pulling Joselyn with her. “It won’t happen. And if it does, what can they take from an old, childless widow?”

  Joselyn planted her feet and tugged on her nurse’s arm. “Your life.”

  A bitter smile caused her plump cheeks to dimple. “My life has been lived, child.” She ran a hand down the length of Joselyn’s braid. “And it’s been a full one. Don’t fear for me. All will be well.”

  Embracing her, Joselyn attempted to return some measure of the love Tansy had given all her life. Joselyn realized then that, thanks to Tansy, she’d not been a true pauper for affection nor regard. Despite whatever her parents had denied her. And now? She would return to the man who had made her richer than any queen.

  “I love you, Tansy.” She breathed in the scent of tallow and buttermilk.

  The old woman returned the embrace, her fierceness tempered by the softness of her plump body. “And I, you, child. More than anything.”

  They were still a moment before Tansy broke the hug. “Come now, let us be away, before our man in the stables loses his nerve.”

  Directed by Tansy, Joselyn made her way to the grand foyer. Joselyn wouldn’t have ventured out of her room for any other reason. She was too afraid she might run into her intended groom. She had yet to meet the man. If all went well tonight, she never would.

  A pretty, young lady’s maid from Fury Keep approached, along with a pair of guards. They stopped before Joselyn as Tansy helped her shrug into a heavy cloak.

  “My lady,” The first guard asked, scrutinizing her, “you intend to leave the castle?”

  “Hardly. I wish to visit my white. My nurse tells me he was recovered after I was taken.”

  Tansy nodded with nauseating enthusiasm, “Indeed, milady! He’s just outside in the stables. Old Tansy’s been looking after him for you in your absence, sneaking him apples and oats. He’ll stomp the gate down when he sees you, he will!”

  A corner of Joselyn’s mouth flicked up at Tansy’s performance. Few things were harder for men to manage than excited women.

  “Indeed,” Joselyn returned, ignoring the perturbed expressions on the guard’s faces. “Let us go now, while I’m still an unmarried woman. The stablemaster tells me his breed is partial to maidens.”

  The lady’s maid rushed to collect her own cloak while the two guards frowned at one another. The older of the two men spoke first.

  “Milady, I think—”

  But Joselyn was already walking away. “Come along, then. I’ll not set foot outside without an escort! Not after all that’s happened.”

  From the corner of her eye, Joselyn caught Tansy’s smile as the guards followed, their heads bowed in resignation. It didn’t take long for the maid to catch up. A pang of sadness stabbed at Joselyn’s heart for what would come next.

  Joselyn turned to Tansy and put a hand on her nurse’s shoulder. “Surely you wish to remain, Tansy. The air outside is frigid. I have a maid for propriety.”

  Tansy made a show of her disappointment, but then muttered something about old lungs before giving Joselyn’s hand a parting squeeze. Of anything she might regret about her decision, leaving Tansy behind would be the greatest.

  There was no choice. Hollen had explained that women were forbidden from the upper reaches of the mountain unless claimed by a Na Dokiri. Her tanshi mark ensured her own acceptability in the eyes of their gods. Tansy would never be permitted at Bedmeg. All of that aside, Tansy had scoffed at the idea of leaving Morhagen.

  “I’m an old woman, and old women don’t live on mountain tops.” She’d said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

  As her nurse walked away, Joselyn resisted the urge to clutch at her arm. If all went according to plan, this would be the last time she saw Tansy. Joselyn forced herself to turn toward the door, reminding herself that they’d said their true farewells in her chamber. Now was the time for action.

  Steeling herself, Joselyn linked arms with the young maid and strode out the massive wooden doors that were opened for her as she passed. Two more guards joined them.

  The winter air swirled with a smattering of dry snowflakes. Torches lit the courtyard and led a path to the stables and other outbuildings. The smell of straw and manure drew Joselyn forward.

  “Surely your steed must be a marvel, indeed, to coax you out in this weather, milady.” The maid said, her tone not at all approving.

  Joselyn ignored her and strode forward as though to sanctuary. The handsome stablemaster bowed low as she stepped over the threshold. Yellow lanterns illuminated the inside of the wooden structure, and the flesh on Joselyn’s hands and face warmed. Now, for the difficult part. She turned toward her guards.

  “You men will remain.”

  “I beg your pardon, milady, but I insist we attend you,” the oldest of the guards said.

  Instead of arguing, Joselyn turned to the stablemaster. “You there, tell my guards that their presence will agitate the horses.”

  The stablemaster was a surprisingly young man, perhaps twenty-five years. Joselyn’s maid seemed keenly aware of his dark hair and pleasing physique. She stifled a giggle at his look of nervousness to be addressed by the Lady of House Fury. The stablemaster flicked an uncertain glance at the imposing men behind her.

  “As milady says, fewer men are better,” the young man stuttered.

  Joselyn smiled brightly. “An honest man. And obliging too.” She shot her guards a disapproving glare. “How gratifying.”

  The stablemaster managed a wobbly smile. Joselyn threw a dismissal over her shoulder. “If you wish to guard me, secure the entrances. I’ll not have you upsetting my white.”

  Joselyn walked away with the confidence of a woman who fully expected to be obeyed. It was an easy thing. She was Lady Fury after all. Still, she sent a hasty prayer up to the gods as she went.

  The guards didn’t follow. One less obstacle. One step closer to Hollen. The dry straw crunched beneath her boots as she stepped under cover of the roof. The stablemaster led her and the maid down one of the many narrow rows of individual pens where the pampered steeds nickered from their stalls.

  Joselyn pretended to appreciate their superb beauty and breeding, nodding in acknowledgement at the many enthusiastic compliments the young man paid House Fury’s own stablemaster. Her lack of interest was easy to hide amidst her maid’s bubbling chatter. Apparently the girl had developed an intense appreciation for horses in the time it had taken her to cross the courtyard. Joselyn spotted Morningstar’s flickering ears over the glossy wooden gate that housed him.

  “Here he is, milady. A fine animal. He’s hardy. But he’s retained all the grace
his breed is known for.”

  Joselyn nodded and reached a hand to stroke Morningstar’s soft muzzle. The horse’s warm lips nibbled at the flat of her palm, searching for treats. Joselyn’s lips curled.

  “Hello, boy.”

  “Tell me!” The maid clutched the stablemaster’s arm, startling him. “Which horse in this stable is the finest?”

  “I…well, that would be Lord Fury’s white. Never seen a more highly bred creature this far from the capital.”

  “Indeed! Oh, do you know that I’ve never had a good look at the master’s horse? Of course, a girl silly as me wouldn’t know what to look at first. I’ll bet you could point out all the finest details.”

  Pressing her face into her mount’s forehead, Joselyn covered her smile. Her chaperone was proving to be a most helpful ally, if unwitting. She turned to them. “The man speaks truly. There is no finer mount than my father’s white. Go and see for yourself.”

  Silence ensured. “Milady? Shall you attend us?”

  Joselyn shook her head. “I desire a moment alone with my mount.”

  The stablemaster spoke. “Surely you’ll want to retain an escort.”

  Joselyn went back to casually stroking her horse. “Have no fear, young man. The entrances are guarded.”

  More silence. Joselyn turned abruptly to the stablemaster. “Or should a few moments alone make me fear for my maid’s virtue?”

  The man’s face paled and he shook his head hard enough to make his brain rattle. He seemed all too relieved when Joselyn’s giggling maid took him by the hand and urged him to lead the way.

  Joselyn looked up and down the straw-covered aisle. A sense of urgency took over her body, and she had to force herself to breathe steadily. Tansy had bribed a stable boy, but Joselyn had no idea which one. The boy would find her at the opportune moment. Now was the time for faith.