“You have much to answer for, but this kind of savagery is barbaric.” Flyka paused, clearing her throat. Lia looked at the Haunt who held her gaze steadily. “I saw the bruises on your thighs. Do you need an internal healer?”
Her eyes watered, and she shook her head no. Despite it all, Flyka was offering her help. Was this what Neve had been talking about? Was this how they broke her?
What a joke. You are already broken.
“No. I killed him before he got any further.” There was no guilt after the statement. Only contempt and a bit of fear. The Northern monsters who’d attacked her would live in her nightmares for the foreseeable future. As would Loshika’s screams.
“Good.” The Haunt’s smile was all fangs.Too many sharp teeth.
“Time to get out,Reilleve,” Flyka said, popping to her feet. She yanked a large robe from the wall and held it out.
Dahlia lifted a lock of hair, the familiar rose-gold color finally shining through. She held her hands out again. The blue was completely gone except for a slight silver shimmer to her freckled pale skin. Lia stood, the water sluicing down her body. She stepped out of the tub, the cool air pebbling her skin. She slipped into the massive robe, Neve’s pine scent surrounding her.
She faced the giantess who towered over her. “Please don’t call me that.”
“What?”
“Reilleve. I am not your queen.”
“You are not my queen.” Flyka’s gaze flicked to the exit behind Lia. “But you are his. Bound in frost and blood.”
Her skin prickled. With leaden feet, she faced her husband.
And he was not happy.
Chapter Thirty
NEVE
Neve’s mouthliterally watered at the sight and scent of Dahlia.
The base part of himself wanted to strip the robe right off her body so he could taste all the little delectable hollows and shadows of her shimmering skin.
The logical part of him knew her to be a traitorousvalleswho would be the end of him. Which meant that instead of gorging himself on her silky skin and finding delightful ways to make her sigh for him, he had to put distance between them until the bond calmed down. He had been starved for her for the last several months, and now his body was rebelling against his mind at the mere glimpse of her in his own clothing.
His heart clenched at the soft rosy waves that hung around her freckled face. Flyka had managed to remove most of the blue dye, only hints of it shimmering like silver diamond dust along her skin. She looked like something ethereal, too beautiful to be real.
Leave before it grows too strong.
Woodenly, he moved deeper into his tent. His jaw clenched at the need to move to her side and hold her. Instead, he rolled up the map that he had tossed onto the floor that morning while wrapped around hisreilleve.
Don’t think about it.
His hands crushed the leather map, and it took all his strength to walk away from her instead of consuming the prettyvalles.
She’s not pretty. She’s devious.
A lie and a truth.
“Flyka.” His Haunt followed him from the tent, swiping her armor from the table and strapping it on as they walked.
Some of the tension in his body melted away when the traitor’s scent was not surrounding him. Choking every logical thought from his mind.
Neve took deep breaths, campfire smoke sweetening the crisp clean air. His Haunt shadowed him as he strode through the camp until they reached the northern edge. His eyes adjusted to the near darkness, spotting Olwen pacing in the snow.
His friend paused at the sight of them and then flopped into the snow. Neve halted and crossed his arms, staring down at Olwen. Each day, the berserker was losing more of himself. Over the years, he’d mastered keeping it at bay and only letting it out on occasion, but the longer the berserker was in control, the harder it was to put the violent part of himself away.
“Are you alright?” Neve asked softly.
