Rurik whirled on Magnus, his anger stirring the air. “You will not call her that.”
“What should I call her? Hóra? Traitor?”
Rurik struck Magnus again, but the Heart Eater only laughed. “Ask him how he earned the name, Pet. How he became the Beast of Zagadka?—”
“You will stop!” bellowed Rurik, his anger rattling the air, sending goosebumps rushing up Saga’s arms. Another punishing blow cracked across Magnus’s jaw.
Spitting blood and a tooth, Magnus persisted. “He’s amonster, Pet. A thing of nightmares. And when he transforms, his anger is a thing of legends. How can he keep you safe when it’s he who’s the monster?—”
The room seemed to undulate, Saga’s knees growing weak.Danger. Not safe. She’d trusted him. Had let herself feel safe with him. Her stomach twisted, panic stirring. She didn’t even know this man.
“Enough!” roared Rurik, punching again.
Saga hugged herself, looking away from the violence.Not safe not safe not safe.Saga’s panic was clawing to get free, but she couldn’t fall apart. Not here. Not now. The air shuddered around her, and her chest was growing tighter…
The air thickened, then relaxed, energy rippling through the room. Saga blinked at the guttering torchlight, at the tingle that spread across her bare skin. Hunched over, Rurik’s shoulders rose with heavy, shuddering breaths.
Magnus laughed, wet and malevolent. “It’s been too long, hasn’t it, Rurik? You’ve been holding it back.” His gaze fell on Saga. “Has he told you why he was truly in Íseldur? Not for a treaty, oh, no. He searched for his kinsman. You thought I did not know, Rurik? Your man is long dead, buried in a mass grave in Svaldrin?—”
Rurik let out a guttural, animalistic sound. Saga took a step toward him but stumbled back against the wall. Along Rurik’s bared forearms, ink-black lines slid downward, crossing the backs of his hands where tattooed claws extended along his knuckles. Saga gaped as the tattoos moved—as if something beneath his skin ached to be set free.
The sharpened tips of the tattooed claws stretched, then burst from his knuckles.
“You see!” exclaimed Magnus. “He lacks control, Pet. Mere taunts have forced his true nature. And now we’re at his mercy.”
Rurik’s shoulders broadened, fabric ripping as fur burst through. A low growl rattled the air, drawing a soft cry from Saga. He whirled on her, and she gasped. Jagged teeth glinted from a snarling maw; his body a mixture of unnatural angles. He was covered in shaggy, gray fur, except for sharp protrusions jutting the length of his spine. Thickly muscled hind legs contrasted long, angular forelegs, which he used for balance as he ambled forward.
It was the barbed tail lashing back and forth that tore the scream from Saga’s throat. It couldn’t be. But those eyes—those luminescent green eyes—were unmistakably Kassandr Rurik’s. Panic wrapped around her chest, squeezing, constricting, tighter, tighter.
“And to think you fearedme, Pet!” spat Magnus. “Now you can lie in the bed you’ve made for yourself.”
The creature turned. Lunged at Magnus. The Heart Eater’s laughter quickly shifted to screams, so shrill they scraped down her spine.
Saga scrambled to the doorway, chased by the wet sounds of flesh ripping from bone and soft, keening moans. Her fingers fumbled on the ladder’s rungs, a foot catching on her skirts as she clambered upward, fighting for eachburning breath. As she burst through the doorway and into the dark corridor, Saga came face-to-face with Rov and a woman in Druzhina garb.
“He’s,” she said shakily, but could not find the words. Rov extended a firm hand, pulling Saga to her feet. “He’s…”
“I understand, Printsessa,” said Rov crisply, easing Saga toward her chamber. Turning his head, he barked in sharp Zagadkian as the woman descended into the hull. The floor beneath Saga shuddered, shouts rising from below. The corridor writhed before her, and she leaned against Rov as they reached her door.
“Is all right, Lady Saga,” said Rov, helping her onto the bed, then cursing. She scratched at her throat, at the maddening constriction.
Not safe not safe not safe!
“I am sorry for this, Printsessa,” Rovgolod said, his voice smothered as though underwater. And then, his large, warm hand covered her mouth, her head tilted back, tiny objects landing on her tongue.
Die. She’d die here, so far from her kingdom.
“You must swallow the seeds,” came Rov’s rough voice. She clawed at him, scratched at the hand over her mouth, but his grip was unrelenting.
She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t string her thoughts together. All she knew was she was away from Askaborg, trapped on a ship.No exits. No escape.
“The seeds will make you sleep, Saga,” said Rov. “Let you escape your terror.”
Escape,she thought.An exit.Saga went slack.
And swallowed.
Chapter Eighty-Nine
