I know. They are curses meant to corrupt. One by one they sink into Svenn, burrowing deep. He roars, but it's different from before. There's pain in it.
"What are you doing?" I scream, trying to stand. My legs won't hold me.
"I'm helping him," the witch says, and she's smiling again. "Helping him shed that tedious control. He will become what he truly is."
"Stop!"
"Why would I stop?" She traces another symbol and it sinks into Svenn's chest. "This is beautiful. Look at him."
Svenn's roar becomes more animal. The intelligence in his eyes is dimming, replaced by pure instinct and hunger.
"Svenn!" I call to him. "Fight it! Come back!"
But the witch traces another rune and another. Each one sinks deeper, pulling more of him away.
"No more holding back and pretending to be civilized," she croons. "This is who you are."
Svenn's roar becomes something else. Something without words or thought. Massive wings tear through his shoulders, unfurling wide. He turns toward me.
The ochre is gone from his eyes, replaced by solid black. There's no recognition in them or awareness of who I am.
It’s just pure hunger.
The witch laughs in delight. "Oh yes. This is better than I hoped. The little elf queen, devoured by her own monster husband. Eirik will be so pleased."
Svenn takes a step toward me. Then another.
I try to crawl away but I can barely move. The pain from the witch's curse is still tearing through me.
"Svenn, it's me," I whisper. "It's Rhianelle. Please."
He doesn't hear me. Or if he does, it doesn't matter. The beast no longer knows my name. It only cares about the hunt.
He lunges.
I close my eyes, waiting for claws that will tear me apart.
Instead, I'm lifted.
My eyes snap open. Svenn has me in his massive hands but he's not crushing me. He's lifting me toward the sky. I still have my knife in my belt. My hand moves toward it on instinct.
The witch's laughter echoes below. "I knew you would pull the knife on him!"
But I'm not aiming for Svenn. I'm not trying to kill him. Even with his black eyes and no recognition, I trust him. I touch his face with my free hand. My fingers find the bone-mask that was once his features.
"I love you," I tell him. "In this form. In any form. You're mine and I'm yours."
I place my hand against his chest. "Come back to me."
For just a moment, something flickers in those black eyes.
I understand now.
My husband is not mindless. He's not lost.
Svenn's lifting me for a better angle.
The witch is still laughing below, confident in her victory. I pull the knife and throw. The blade flies true. It's not a perfect throw, my hands are still shaking from the pain. But it's close enough.
