Lair of Beasts [Book I in the Curse Of Blood Saga]

Chapter VI - Godwin Greyback

John knocked once at the sturdy solar door at the end of a long gallery and pushed the door open after receiving a booming, "Enter!" called from within. He held it open for me to precede him, but made no move to follow.

The room I entered seemed a sort of well lit, private living room with a library — the shelves along the walls stacked with parchment scrolls and manuscripts — from which three additional archways and doors led, presumably to the wardrobe, the lady's boudoir, and the master's chamber. Here another fire snapped and licked at the logs in the hearth beside which the earl reclined against the cushions of a tall, high-backed chair; a large hunting falcon perched on a rail next to him.

Both creatures sat quiescently, one pair of eyes a beady golden hue and the other a chilling ice-blue, as they watched my painstaking approach with unnerving coolness. I endeavored to take in the splendid wall hangings and artful tapestries, or the excellently crafted woodwork of the support beams, shelves, chairs and tables, but I was far too aware of the master of Nørrdragor's keen stare.

"Come a little closer, Ariana."

The Lord of Drakkentörn's voice was like granite and utterly devoid of warmth: much like the flagstones beneath me that were slowly conducting the heat, or what little I yet contained, away from my soaked feet and travel-worn boots.

I clutched my cloak tighter about my shoulders and did as he bade me, moving tentatively forward despite every instinct urging me to flee. He watched me silently, his preternatural stillness disquieting, and when I finally stood mere inches from him I thought I noticed him sniff the air delicately as if to catch my scent; but that was ludicrous! What high lord goes about sniffing his subordinates?

I might have laughed at the notion, but for my nerves: they were painfully taut and it was all I could do to keep from becoming unraveled.

"I see your face has healed nicely." He leaned back ever so slightly, satisfied by what he saw.

I concentrated on slowing my ragged breathing and calming myself, but the man before me incited such an irrational terror that I soon gave up and watched him keenly — ready to bolt should he move a fraction closer.

He must have sensed my agitation for he transferred those eyes instead to John who remained poised at the door. He instructed his chamberlain briefly in clipped Norn, before the man inclined his head and closed the door, his light foot falls disappearing in his wake as the silence once again gathered thickly around us.

"You are no doubt famished," he intoned. I nodded my assent. "I have arranged for some wine and broth to be brought hence."

He motioned for me to sit. I chose the seat furthest from him and he smiled humorlessly, steepling his hands so that he scrutinized me carefully over his fingers while my own hands were clasped together nervously, the knuckles turning white. His motionless state was that of a waiting spider. It was an interminable length of time before he spoke again, so suddenly that I visibly started and I might have screamed had not my throat been so constricted with dread.

"You know why you are here, Ariana." It was not a question and I nodded woodenly.

I disliked the way he continued to use my full name instead of the shortened version, Aria, that most everyone else had thus far adopted: it made me feel all the more an outsider; an unfamiliar guest. Lord Drakkentörn waited expectantly for my verbal affirmation with his head slightly cocked.

"Yes, my lord." He motioned for me to continue. "Father said I was to be married to the Earl of Drakkentörn...to a Greyback." I gulped a mouthful of frigid air and commenced. "You, my lord."