The Crystal Wood (Half-Breed Book 2)
Page 30
“I doubt it,” Milea said. “Something tells me that this was all going to happen no matter what we would have done.”
“Why do you say that?” Varg asked.
“I don't know, I just have a feeling that Jin was right, and that Elora intended for this to happen all along,” Milea said.
“I don't know,” Varg said, “I think there's more to the story than that.”
“I'm sure there is, but until we know more, things look pretty bleak indeed,” Milea said.
“Whatever the case, we need to work together to find out not only what to do about Jin, but also about...well, you know,” Varg said.
“You mean your transformation?” Milea asked.
“Yes,” Varg said. “While I would love nothing more than to find out more about the jotuns and especially Haldor, bringing down Jin is our top priority. I think you interrupted whatever it is he was doing, because he hasn't begun what he needs to do yet to bring about the Dawn. At least as far as we know.”
“Varg, about what Zita told us...” Milea said.
“It's all right,” Varg responded. “Believe me, a weight has lifted from me knowing that what I did wasn't my fault, but I never want to see that look on your face again.”
Varg leaned in closer to her and brushed her hair over her ear, then whispered, “I love you, Milea.”
Milea's heart leaped. “You do?”
“I didn't know it at the time, but I can say now that I have loved you the moment I set eyes on you in that cave. There was something about you that intrigued me, that sent shivers down my body and made me long to know you. I couldn't explain it at the time, but I knew you couldn't be guilty of killing Lionel. I went through everything I did to prove your innocence because deep down, I wanted you with me, by my side, and I suppose that deep down I thought if I saved you, you'd be mine. It's silly, I know, but-”
Varg was interrupted when Milea wrapped her arms around his neck and planted her lips firmly on his. He wrapped his arms around her waist and returned the gesture. Milea's heart raced and she felt chills run through her body underneath his touch. When she finally removed her lips, she whispered, “I love you too.”
They finally pulled away and rested their foreheads together, then they held that position for several minutes. They pulled away and went to sit on the nearby bench.
That was when he noticed that Conley, Catrina, Oliva, Tain, and Erril all stood nearby and watched with smiling faces.
“Finally. I thought they'd never say it,” Erril said.
Catrina nodded in response. “I knew they would eventually.”
Varg's expression dropped. “Wait a minute, you knew about Milea and me? All of you?”
“What the...why didn't I know?” Conley suddenly asked.
Catrina smiled and patted his shoulder. “Sorry dear. We assumed you would figure it out eventually.”
“Wait, so all of you knew and never told me?” Conley stammered.
“Oh please, it was so obvious,” Erril remarked.
“Even Oliva knew,” Tain remarked.
Oliva rolled her eyes. “Thank you Tain, you always know just what to say.”
“Hang on,” Varg said rather loudly. “How did any of you know? We've been keeping it a secret for months now.”
Erril rolled her eyes. “Did you really think we were so dull that we couldn't figure it out? You two are always making eyes at each other and going off alone together, people are going to talk.”
“Excuse me?” Conley spat, presumably at the “dull” comment.
Oliva shook her head. “Erril's right. Honestly before Tain even told me I already had my suspicions.”
Varg's eyes shot at Tain, who then said, “You forget your room in Ironstone Keep is right next to mine. You aren't as quiet as you think.”
Catrina laughed, then said, “And I may have had a few conversations with the maid who cleans your sheets.”
Varg's faced turned bright red and Milea shamefully bowed her head, but to her surprise she also let out a laugh.
CHAPTER 27
In the wake of the war in Fellen, Birhog managed to stay relatively untouched. It was for that reason that Horatius had a usual day cleaning up the tavern after the last drunk finally stumbled out for the night. He was in the back room taking stock of the barrels he had left when his son entered the room and said, “Father, there's a man here to see you.”
Horatius looked up from his work to see his young son, barely an adult, leaning in from the door frame. The old man looked at the boy curiously and asked, “Did he say who he was?”
His son shook his head. “No, but he's very large and has white hair, so I figured he'd be someone you would remember.”
Horatius nearly dropped his parchment. There was only one man who matched that description that he knew. A man who, as much as he regretted it, Horatius betrayed to protect his family. Every day since then he hated himself, but he only hoped that Varg could forgive him.
Horatius gulped. “Did he sound...angry?”
“No, he seemed to be in a rather pleasant mood, actually.”
Horatius allowed himself to breathe. The old man offered a smile and said, “All right then, why don't you take over in here for me so I can go talk to him?”
“Yes Sir,” his son replied as he accepted the quill and parchment from his father.
Horatius rounded the doorway and went upstairs, but when he entered the main room of Moonlighter's Manor, he was presented with a surprise. The man who stood in the middle of the floor was indeed very large and had white hair, but it was not Varg.
The man who stood before him was much taller than Varg, nearly seven feet. He had white hair and silver eyes just as Varg did, but his hair was far longer and was decorated with braids. He also had a short beard along his jaw, he was dressed in rich furs, and he carried twin axes on his back.
The intimidating man turned to look at the old man and said, “You must be Horatius.”
“Aye,” Horatius said, still in shock.
“Forgive me for intruding,” the man said, “but your son apparently forgot to lock the door for the evening. If you're closing up, I can return tomorrow.”
Horatius, ever the gracious host, said with a smile, “If you aren't going to be long, I suppose you can stay for a drink.”
“I appreciate it, and don't worry, I'll only be a few minutes.”
The white-haired brute of a man sat down at one of the bar stools, which Horatius was surprised to see that it didn't break under his weight, and placed a coin on the counter. “I'll have a pint of mead.”
Horatius smiled and grabbed a clean cup from under the counter, then he filled it to the brim with mead and placed the cup before his mysterious visitor. Horatius then grabbed the coin and placed it in the coin pouch below the counter.
The large man drank all of his mead in nearly one gulp. He placed the empty cup on the counter and said, “Much obliged, and that was some of the best mead I've ever tasted.”
Horatius smiled. “Thank you, Sir. Will that be all?”
“Actually,” the man said, “I didn't just come here for the drink. I hear that you're well acquainted with a man known as the White Wolf,” the man said.
Horatius's stomach gave a lurch. “I'm afraid we don't speak much anymore.”
“That's a shame,” he said, “because I've been looking for him for some time. When I heard of the legendary white-haired warrior with power over ice, you can imagine my joy to find that another one of my kinsmen survived as I have.”
Hroatius stopped dead in his tracks. “Wait a minute, do you mean you're...by the gods, you're a jotun. A full-blooded jotun.”
The jotun nodded. “If the stories I hear are correct, though, the White Wolf is only half-jotun. There is only one way that's possible. During the war between the jotuns and the humans, a jotun man fell in love with a human woman. The two became interlocked in an affair between their warring comrades, and when the other jotuns discovered their union, the jotun was...severe
ly punished. The White Wolf, you see, is no doubt their son, for no others ever dared to do what they did.”
“You don't mean to hurt Varg, do ya?” Horatius said.
The jotun laughed. “No, nothing like that. He may be half human, but he's still a jotun all the same. My only wish is to know get to know him.”
Horatius smiled. “Well I'm afraid I don't know where he is anymore, but if I see him I'll be sure to point him your way. Goodness knows he's eager to find out more about his kind.”
The jotun stood and offered a slight bow. “Thank you, good Sir, for the mead and the pleasant conversation. I'll head out and search for him again, but if you do hear from him, please give him this.”
He produced a folded parchment from his pocket and handed it to Horatius as if it would shatter if he mishandled it. The jotun was about to step outside when Horatius said, “Wait, who should I tell him to look for?”
The jotun turned to Horatius, smiled, and said, “Tell him to look for Haldor.”
Coming soon...
THE
FALLEN CITY
HALF-BREED
Book III
Available for Kindle and Paperback
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Brittany Comeaux lives in Eunice, LA with her husband and two daughters. When she isn't writing, she's either chasing her kids, reading a book, or killing dragons in Skyrim.
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