The Viking's Consort (Clan Hakon Series Book 3)

by Quinn Loftis

  ~Dayna Auvray

  July 10, 995

  I have finally found the witch Evelyn. It took months. I was beginning to believe that maybe Myra had just made the woman up to distract me from my quest to gain magic of my own. She should know better. Once I set my mind on something, I never give up until I get it.

  “Do you think their parents spoiled them? She sounds spoiled,” I said, glancing at Assy.

  Gisele had left early that morning without saying anything other than ‘this is your favorite place, never leave’. I wasn’t sure why she was worried. This place was stupendous, and I didn’t ever want to leave. It seemed silly she’d felt the need to keep reminding me.

  “Do you hear yourself right now?” Assy asked.

  “Which part? My thoughts or my out-loud words?” I asked.

  “Any of it,” Assy yelled.

  “Why don’t you speak with your mouth and not just your mind?” I asked, ignoring her scream.

  “The real question is why a rat is talking at all,” Assy points out. She was probably right, but that wasn’t important.

  “What is important is we figure out how Gisele became this crazy, evil madwoman,” I said, focusing on the diary. I’d admit I’d become a tad obsessed with it. Flipping the pages forward, I skimmed until I saw Evelyn’s name again.

  July 15, 995

  I finally was able to speak with the woman named Evelyn. I found someone who told me she lived in a nearby village, about a day’s walk from my own. Since then, I’d been on pins and needles, waiting for the opportunity when I’d be able to get away and seek her out. Two days ago, I did. My family traveled to a nearby village to trade. During the journey, I slipped away and made the trip to Evelyn’s village, knowing there would be hell to pay upon my return. There was. My parents caught sneaking in the back door of our cottage after dark the following evening. They, along with Myra, had searched for me the entire day. No one believed the story I’d wandered off and gotten lost.

  So, I got stuck doing all the chores, which is why I’m just now getting a chance to get this written down. Luckily, Myra, being the perfect twin she is, refused to make me do the chores by myself. She helped me, but she also badgered me to death to tell her where I’d really been. I wish I could trust her. I would love to tell her all Evelyn shared with me. But I have no way of knowing if she will tell our parents, and I can’t risk them preventing me from going back.

  As it turns out, Evelyn is indeed a witch. But she was not a born witch. She is a self-made witch! How splendid is that? It is only a matter of time before I get the woman to tell me her secrets.

  “We are all just dancing in the village square, let me tell you,” I muttered dryly. I could practically feel Gisele’s excitement from the old ink on the page, and continued to read on.

  Turns out, Myra isn’t the only one in our family with the potential to wield magic. Evelyn explained that anyone can become a magic user. However, those with magic in their blood—which I apparently had to have some residual magic because my twin is a natural witch—have an even greater aptitude for it than those with absolutely no magic anywhere in their family.

  Evelyn has told me that she will be able to teach me how to reach the magic hidden in my blood. I’m not powerless. Myra isn’t the only special one. There’s just one small price. I have to kill someone.

  Freezing, I stared at the words on the page, reading them over and over again. There’s just one small price. I have to kill someone. That was only a small price? A person’s life meant so little to Gisele, even at that young age? I couldn’t believe it.

  “Now are you ready to escape? At least try?” Assy asked.

  “Would I seem naive if I said maybe we can change her?” I asked.

  “You would seem as dumb as you have seemed from the moment you started climbing around on the floor searching for a rat to be your best friend.”

  “Well, at least you’re honest,” I said, then refocused on the diary. I was dreading what was to come. Had she actually wrote about the life or lives she’d taken? I didn’t want to know, yet I needed to. I had to know.

  I asked Evelyn who I would have to kill. She told me it was up to me. When I asked her how to choose, she told me it had to be someone I knew. She explained the power I would receive drew its strength from the blood bond between me and my…victim. Evelyn said the closer my relationship with the sacrifice, the more power I would gain. I didn’t want to ask the next question, but I did. The answer was exactly what I expected. If I wanted to be more powerful than Myra, I could take all of my sister’s power by taking her life. I wish I could say I hadn’t considered it, but that wouldn’t be true. The thought crossed my mind, if only briefly. But I dismissed it. I couldn’t kill my twin. Killing her would be like killing a part of myself.

  “Not to mention it would be really wrong,” I threw out just because I felt like, even now, decades later, the words needed to be said. And yes, I realized Gisele couldn’t hear me. She was out doing whatever it was she did during the day, and I was being completely inconsiderate by digging into her past. Even though I knew this was my favorite place, I was still under no delusions she wasn’t holding me captive. So, I figured we were even.

  “Are you sure you’re not being a little delusional?” Assy said. “She’s holding you captive, and she’s got you enchanted to believe you’re talking to a rat who is your new best friend. You think that’s completely rational?”

  “Are you feeling a little jealous?” I asked Assy. “You know Gisele doesn’t hold a candle to you.”

  “I was really worried about that,” the rat said. “I’d hate for anything to come between us.”

  The rat crouched in her cage, her beady eyes glancing around the room, her nose doing its usual little twitchy thing. “You do look very concerned.”

  “Told you I was.”

  That sounded exactly like something I would say—as if the rat’s voice and my own were the same. A strange thought crossed my mind. What if the rat were simply a projection of my own subconscious? I paused, then shook my head. “That would just be weird.”

  “So much weirder than a talking rat,” Assy added.

  I ignored the talking rat and went back to the diary, both anxiously anticipating what it would contain and simultaneously dreading the memories within. I was sure the book was about to reveal just how twisted little Gisele was…even as a child.

  It took me three days to decide who needed to die. Soon, I would gain the powers I had been denied at birth. The deed wasn’t as difficult to plan as I thought it would be…and even easier to execute.

  I chose Tate, the stable boy. He was actually a little older than a boy, but still not quite a man. He was a friend to Myra and me both, so the necessary emotional connection was satisfied. He trusted me, so luring him away was not a problem. I could spare you the gory details, but it’s important I relay the events. Evelyn said the moment of sacrifice is extremely powerful. She said if I connect in some meaningful way with my victim during the moment of their death, then the blood gains even more power. So, that was exactly what I planned to do.

  I lured Tate away from the village by telling him my horse had gone lame in a riding accident. I’d managed to make myself appear rather tussled by tearing my skirt and smearing dirt all over my face. He seemed quite sympathetic. As we were walking toward the woods, Tate began to flirt with me. I was surprised but not disappointed. I’d seen him flirt with Myra on many occasions, but she never seemed to understand what he was doing. He’d never paid me any attention. I wasn’t bitter. The boy wasn’t exactly the most sought-after male in the village. At seventeen, Myra and I were both the perfect marrying age, but our parents hadn’t pushed us to find suitors.

  As Tate continued to tease me and pay me compliments, I began to encourage his advancements. I giggled at his jokes and put my hand on his arm as I spoke to him, taking every opportunity to gaze at him with innocent doe eyes. We came to a clearing, and I feigned exhaustion. I sat upon a boul
der and asked him to join me, which he willingly did. He had no idea someone was watching from the bushes, waiting for me to accomplish my task.

  It didn’t take long before we were staring at one another, our lips inching closer. It was my first kiss, and it didn’t stop there. Up until that moment, I’d never given much thought to how my first sexual experience with a male would feel. I’d always assumed it wouldn’t happen until my wedding night, in a feather bed, enveloped in the soft glow of lighted candles. Instead, it happened in the woods with a stable boy under the stars. A hopeless romantic might’ve thought the experience terribly exhilarating. It was, but not because of anything Tate was doing to me. Instead, I tingled with excitement because of what I knew I was about to do. Finally, I was about to get my power.

  Afterward, Tate rolled off me, panting. I continued to stare up at the sky. I hurt down there. I hadn’t expected the experience to be so painful. It was a good pain in some ways, but a pain, nonetheless. He rose up on an elbow, peering at me intently. I saw something in that gaze. Love, maybe. No, that wasn’t it. No, it was a fascination. A fascination with me, with my body, with what he’d just done. I could tell he thought himself a man now. And I realized it had been his first time as well.

  I could feel his body next to mine, completely relaxed. With his free hand, Tate rubbed my cheek softly with the back of a finger. I wiggled my skirts down to their proper place. As I did so, I retrieved a dagger from my riding clutch. Then I matched Tate’s posture and leaned up on my own elbow, my other arm resting behind my back, gripping the dagger. I inhaled deeply, trying to steady my breathing.

  “Thank you, Tate,” I whispered.

  I trembled, adrenaline coursing through my veins. The hand holding the knife shook. I knew I’d have to be quick. Evelyn had said the act wouldn’t be easy. She’d told me to strike quickly. To use all my force to thrust in the blade. Otherwise, the knife would glance aside, and all would be lost. She’d said she would intervene if I couldn’t complete the deed, but the power wouldn’t transfer to me unless I alone took his life. And that was exactly what I intended to do.

  “Thank you, Gisele,” he replied, staring deeply into my eyes. “That was amaz—”

  The rest of the words caught in this throat, unable to escape around the cold steel I’d just thrust into his neck. His eyes went wide. I’m sure mine were as well. He fell back, ripping the knife handle from my grasp. He clutched at his throat, his legs thrashing wildly, the knife still protruding from his neck. Tate’s gurgling and thrashing were the only sounds. It was as if every nocturnal creature in the woods had stopped to watch the boy in his final throes. Even the wind had stilled. The boy managed to wrench the knife free. When he did so, blood spurted up from his throat, covering us both. Had I been thinking rationally, I might’ve worried how I would explain the bloodstains to my parents. Instead, I was too excited. My entire body tingled as I crawled on top of him, my chest pressed to his. I wanted to feel him as he went still. I wanted to watch the light leave his eyes. I needed to experience his death as intimately as possible to ensure I received every last drop of power from the sacrifice. His blood was warm as it flowed over my hands. I took his face in my hands. He looked at me as if he wanted to say something. What? I couldn’t hazard a guess. Instead, he moaned, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. I placed my lips on his, then kissed him deeply. I imagined myself sucking every bit of life force from his body. Evelyn hadn’t said anything about that, yet it somehow seemed appropriate.

  “Well done,” a voice purred next to me. I rose to my knees, focusing on Evelyn. I had no way to express what I was feeling. Every nerve in my body seemed to be tingling. “Very well done,” she repeated. “Now, gather as much of his blood in your hands as possible.”

  I did as I was told. It wasn’t hard. The blood was still coming from Tate’s neck, though the flow was becoming a sticky trickle. Meanwhile, Evelyn reached down and grabbed her own handful of blood. After smearing it on her face, she stepped away. She began chanting and drawing a circle in the dirt around me with her foot. When the circle was complete, she stopped chanting and stared down at me.

  “When I say so, you drink the blood. Consume as much as you can. The more you imbibe, the more power you will steal.” I nodded.

  Evelyn spread her arms wide and threw her head back, facing the moon. The air became electric, and goose pimples formed on my skin. The wind, silent and still a moment ago, began to whip around the clearing with a fury. Evelyn’s loud voice rang out into the night.

  Spirits of darkness, pay heed to my call,

  A new servant arises, forsaken of all.

  Blood of an innocent flows through her veins,

  Taken from her victim through terrible pains.

  Grant her a boon, her power long denied,

  I give you, Gisele, a sorceress, long past her time!

  When she said the word time, she kicked at the dirt circle she’d created, breaking it. I wish I could describe what happened. I wish could somehow put into words what I felt when the power came crashing in upon me. It was as if I’d been nothing but an empty hearth my entire life and someone had finally filled me with a blazing, refining fire. Throwing my hands out wide, I roared to the heavens. The four elemental powers flowed into me—earth, wind, water, and fire—though I had no idea what was happening at the time. I only know it felt amazing. I felt ten feet tall and stronger than the biggest bull. I knew, at that moment, that I could accomplish anything. But the feeling only lasted a few seconds. I took a step toward Evelyn, but then collapsed, shaking violently. I tried to gain my feet, but all my strength was gone. I felt as if I’d just run for miles. I rolled over and vomited, spewing blood and bile all over the ground.

  “Easy, child,” Evelyn said. “Your mortal flesh isn’t used to housing such power. Relax now.”

  My head swam. I tried to rise to my hands and knees. Then the world turned upside down, and darkness took me.

  When I awoke three days later, I knew the ritual had worked.

  “I think I’m going to vomit.”

  “Please don’t do it in my cottage. I do so hate the smell of stomach bile.”

  The sound of Gisele’s voice startled me so much I dropped the book and fell off the stool, stumbling like a drunken fool. “You’re back,” I said, sounding completely innocent…as if I hadn’t just been browsing through her personal record of ritual sacrifices.

  “Of course I’m back, I live here,” Gisele snapped. “Why do you make it sound like it’s so hard to believe I’d come back to the place where all of my possessions reside?”

  “Why are you making a big deal out of my comment?” I asked. “I don’t really feel like it warrants that much emotion.”

  She frowned. “Emotion? I’m being emotional because you’re saying, ‘You’re back,’ like I shouldn’t be back, which I think is odd.”

  “And now I feel like we’re having a completely irrational argument, like unreasonable females,” I pointed out.

  Gisele’s face scrunched up as if she smelled something vile. “Never. I’m not irrational, nor am I unreasonable. Ever.”

  “Same,” I chirped, folding my arms across my chest.

  “Then we shall forget it ever happened,” she said, tossing her usual dead pile of animals onto the counter. “How are you enjoying reading my diary?”

  My eyes widened, my arms immediately dropping to my sides. “Reading? I’m not reading. I don’t even know how to read.”

  “Really? You, the youngest of three English princesses, who has no doubt had the finest tutors in the land since the day you were born. And you expect me to believe you don’t know how to read? Don’t be silly, child. And I’m fairly sure you told me only a few days ago that you knew how to read, in multiple languages.”

  “I was lying. I know how to lie. I do not, however, know how to read. At all.”

  Gisele smirked as she began chopping off rabbit legs. “I wish you weren’t my enemy. Then I could like you. You’re surpr
isingly funny for one so…English.”

  “And you’re surprisingly clean for one so…bloody,” I said.

  “We all have our talents. Clean kills happen to be one of mine.”

  “Don’t forget lying, corruption, blackmail, and an overall love for all things vile,” I added because I clearly had a death wish.

  “You have a very wicked tongue this day,” Gisele purred. “I wonder if I’m growing on you.”

  “Like an infectious disease.”

  This made the witch frown. “How is your rat?”

  “She’s much chattier than when I first met her,” I replied.

  Gisele’s eyes snapped up to mine. “She talks?”

  “Why do you sound surprised? You were the one who told me she would talk,” I pointed out.

  She shrugged, her lips dropping into a slight pout. “I guess I figured she wouldn’t open up to you because you’re very annoying.”

  “You literally just said that you would like me if I wasn’t your enemy.”

  “I’m a witch who loves dark magic. Did you really expect me to be honest?”

  “Good point.”

  Gisele went about the routine of cleaning her kills. “What does the rat say to you?” she asked.

  “Don’t tell her. Just say I mumble ridiculous nonsense,” Assy quickly said.

  “Nonsense mostly,” I said. “A lot of grumbling about being in a cage and wishing for a new best friend.”

  “If she’s annoying you, I can always kill her and use her tail and innards as ingredients for a spell,” Gisele offered.

  “I’d rather you didn’t. I wouldn’t have anyone to talk to while you’re gone.”

  “You never answered my question. How are you enjoying my diary?” she asked again.