Dagger's Destiny by Linnea Tanner

Author:Linnea Tanner [Tanner, Linnea]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bublish, Inc.
Published: 2018-07-27T22:07:33+00:00

30

Catrin’s Choice

The rain dropped like sheets on Marcellus’s face as he waited outside at the Great Hall’s entryway with Trystan and another warrior on each of his sides. Shivering, he wondered how much longer he had to wait without a cloak to cover his head.

A man could die of consumption in these weather conditions, he inwardly groaned.

Though he was no longer shackled, his swollen ankles still burned from the metal cuff rubbing his raw skin. His shoulder throbbed from Trystan’s less than amiable treatment from the previous night.

Look on the bright side, he tried to cheer himself. I should thank the gods that I am still alive after Trystan’s untimely greeting.

His teeth began clacking as he wrapped his arms around himself to keep warm. A chill sliced across his neck and Catrin’s headless body appeared in his eye’s mind.

Was he too late to save her?

King Amren had, after all, executed his former queen for treason. He stifled a laugh from his gallows humor.

Idiot! Put your head back on before your wits spill on the ground.

Closing his eyes against the rain, he struggled to keep his thoughts off the grim prospect that both he and Catrin would lose their heads. He inwardly rehearsed on what he would say to convince Amren otherwise.

My king, you must believe me that I grieve for the loss of your daughter, Vala. But alas, I never foresaw Marrock would ambush us. Don’t blame Catrin for his vile deed. If you must blame someone, blame me. I never intended Catrin any harm . . . I love her.

Marcellus slapped his forehead dripping with rain.

You idiot! Why would the king be swayed by my proclamation of love?

The entryway doors suddenly opened and banged against the inner walls from a gale wind. Marcellus felt the tip of Trystan’s sword jab into his back, and he stumbled into the Great Hall. He wiped the raindrops from his eyes.

The first image that came into his sight was a spiked skull on the wall. The same skull had also welcomed him when he had first met the king earlier in late spring. He then focused on the king and queen, both of them seated on their thrones. The king snarled, leaning forward in his high-backed chair, like a wolf ready to pounce on its prey. In contrast, the queen slumped in her chair, appearing weary. He then caught sight of Catrin standing before the thrones, her back turned to him. He gasped in relief that she was alive. A single gold braid cascaded off her shoulder as she looked back at him.

He recalled the last time he had seen her at the prisoner exchange. The white raven had just taken the brunt of a death arrow targeted at his heart. As he lay there wounded, losing consciousness, he saw her disappear into the gloom of the forest like a star at dawn. At the time, he wondered if she had shapeshifted into the raven and sacrificed herself to save him.

Marcellus tried to connect to Catrin’s thoughts.

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