Joselyn blinked. So the legend was true? How much of it? “You ordered that thing to steal me away?”
He nodded.
“Why? What do you want from me?” Her body stiffened as she prepared to bolt again. As if sensing this, he shifted forward on his knees.
“Yourself.”
“You have me! What are you waiting for?”
How could her life have come down to this? When she still had a duty, a purpose to fulfill? Fear turned to rage in her veins. She wouldn’t die without a fight. Joselyn searched for a vulnerable spot to sink her claws.
The man’s mouth fell open and he shook his head. He extended his palms to her again in that pleading gesture. “Easy, woman. I’ll not harm you. I brought you here to be my bride.”
Joselyn gaped at him. She waited for him to laugh, to grin, even to attack her. Anything to indicate his obvious insanity. Instead he watched her, waiting, she realized, for a response.
“Why me?” she blurted.
“I’ve been watching you for days, waiting for the right opportunity to bring you to the mountain. Today I got my chance.”
“You saw a strange woman from the sky and just”—she shrugged—“decided to make her your wife?”
The man, Hollen, was silent.
“You’re mad,” Joselyn said, more to herself than to him.
He straightened, his expression darkening. “I am Na Dokiri. It is my right to claim you.”
“Dokiri.” Joselyn tested the new word on her own tongue.
“It means ‘He Who Conquers,’ ” the man explained, an edge of pride in his voice. “My people are the Dokiri of the Bedmeg clan. I’m the eldest son of Sven the Collector and I have claimed you as my bride. So you shall be.”
Joselyn strained for words. Be it owed to madness or pride, he was so brazen that she was almost impressed. But it wasn’t to be borne. Indignation roiled up. “How dare you?”
“It is already done. I have chosen you by right.”
“By what right?” she demanded. “Who do you think you are? Who do you think I am?”
The man rose to his feet, taking a step backward. Joselyn stiffened against the wall. Some of her nerve wilted.
“This mountain is stained with the blood of my people. The Dokiri guard all the earth below from the many evils which lurk within. My own blood mingles with those who have fallen protecting you and the other lowlanders.”
Joselyn listened, her trepidation remounting. This man was deluded. Likely unstable. He continued his speech.
“By the right of Earth and Sky I claim you as my reward. You will be the mother of my sons and Saliga of my people. I would know your name.”
She stared at him, stunned. “Joselyn. My name . . .is Joselyn.”
He smiled. Creases lit the sides of his cheeks, and a tingle of awareness crept down her spine. He was beautiful. Strikingly so. She'd been so overwrought she'd failed to notice. A wild, beautiful, madman. And his smile was for her.
Focus, Joselyn. Command this situation.
She forced herself to step away from the wall. “I am Joselyn Fury, Lady of House Fury,” she said, her voice much clearer than before.
Get his attention. Introduce the stick.
“My father is an heir to the throne of Morhagen. He will have you killed when he learns what you’ve done. For a crime such as this? A swift public beheading will be in order.”
The barbarian listened, his attention rapt as though she were the most fascinating thing he’d ever laid eyes on. Joselyn swallowed.
Now for the carrot.
“But,” Joselyn said, recalling her father’s many passive lessons in leveraging, “if you return me to my men, I’ll see that you are paid your weight in gold as your reward and a symbol of goodwill toward your people. I can guarantee the payment out of my own dowry settlement.”
Hollen tilted his head. “I’m not surprised you’re a woman of esteem. But your title, and that of your father, mean nothing to me or my people.”
He was dismissing her? Just like that? Joselyn gritted her teeth. This never happened. Joselyn wasn’t one to hold her nobility over others, but she’d always been treated with the utmost respect by default. Now she realized just how great her privilege was. How vital. Joselyn snapped to gain the advantage.
“I’m to be lady of two great houses in less than a fortnight.” Joselyn stretched the truth of House Viridian, trying to inspire fear in this wild man who seemed so unruffled by her threats. “My husband would have you bled in the square for all to see! You would be wise to—”
“—You’re married?” he asked, his voice dark and tense.
“I . . .not yet,” she said, faltering at the hint of temper in his voice. “Soon. Very soon.”
His face softened. “Yes. Soon. Today I will join you to myself, and you shall be mine.”
Joselyn shook her head. Her breath ratcheted. “Impossible. I’m to be married in eight days to Lord Viridian. That cannot be undone.”
“That life is passed for you.” A hint of remorse rang in his deep voice.
“You don’t understand!” she cried. “I have to go back. You must take me!”
Was this really happening? Was she truly pleading with a barbarian not to carry her off and make her his concubine, bride, whatever? How could she stop this?
Calm yourself, Joselyn. Reason with him.
“My father would find a dozen willing women to service you. I am for the Lord Viridian. Please, find another woman to be your bride.”
The man frowned down at her. In her earnestness she’d taken several steps toward him. They were but a foot apart now, close enough to notice his fingers fidgeting at his sides.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “But I will not.”
“I will not marry you,” she said. She drew upon every thread of courage to face him as she spoke.
“You will,” he said with equal resolve. There was no malice in his voice, just a statement of fact. “I have conquered wyverns, I have conquered all manner of demons beneath the earth, and I shall conquer you.”
Joselyn’s stomach lurched at his determined words. The savage meant them. Every one. What to do? She knew what she couldn’t do. She couldn’t give in to fear. Her freedom, her life depended upon her wits. She glared at him.
The man reached for her bruised hand, the one she’d used to strike him. Joselyn snapped it away.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked.
Joselyn’s lips parted as she studied him. “No.”
“Think it over. You’re not likely to notice until you’ve calmed.”
Joselyn obeyed, despite herself, and shivered. She was cold. Freezing. The clouds had left her cloak drenched and her gown heavy with moisture. Her damp hair clung to the sides of her face.
“Come,” he said, holding a hand out to her. “I have dry clothes for you.”
Joselyn stepped back and scowled at the hand he offered. He lowered it before turning away toward the cave entrance.
“Come,” he said again. He started down the tunnel.
Would he just leave her here? Then why had he chased her in the first place?
He wasn’t trying to catch you.
A sinking suspicion settled low in her gut. Was she already trapped? Beyond hope of escape, of rescue? She could keep delving deeper, find out for sure. She considered it. Another round of chills had her clutching at her arms. She had no idea where she was, except on a mountain said to be home to unimaginable demon terrors. For now, she’d follow the one she’d already met. At a distance.