Prologue
The moon hung high in the sky, bathing everything in silvery light. I crouched against the outer wall of the lodge, pressing myself into the roughly hewn logs and shivering. It was early spring and there was still snow on the ground, but I wasn’t cold.
Just the opposite. A bead of sweat rolled down my forehead, tickling my skin and soaking a stray tendril of my hair. With a trembling hand, I wiped it away.
The fever inside me burned on. A cruel fire, roasting me from the inside.
How many hours had I been outside this night? How many times this winter had the fever driven me outside? The first few times, I planted my face in the snow to cool it. Now I didn’t bother.
Pleasepleaseplease, I prayed, as I had many nights before. Kyrie eleison. Lord have mercy.
But no help came. The moon glared at me in silent witness of my sins.
A crunch of gravel under a boot was my only warning before a shadow fell across me. The one who cast it was tall and broad and larger than an ordinary man—a giant hewn from rock. A Berserker.
“Juliet.” The giant shadow spoke. Behind him, to the right, another shadow glided over the frozen ground. A second warrior. Only a Berserker could be so large, yet move so silently.
“Jarl.” I let my head fall back against the wall, stifling a groan. Of course my prayers wouldn't be answered this night. “And Fenrir.”
As I named them, the warriors stepped into the light. Both were bearded and broad of shoulder, but Jarl was a bit broader, and Fenrir taller with longer hair.
“Juliet.” Jarl cocked his head. “You’re not wearing your boots.”
I tucked my bare feet under my shift. “What do you want?” I croaked. No sense hiding the fact that they were bothering me.
“You know what we want.” Jarl crouched down beside me. A strong scent, woodsmoke and pine, wound around me. I fought to keep myself from leaning into him. “You still suffer,” he observed.
I laughed, my breath puffing in the cold air. “Some say suffering is a woman’s lot.”
“How long?” Jarl asked.
I licked my cracked lips. “You know how long. You’ve watched me all these months.”
Jarl swore.
Fenrir frowned and came closer, but he remained standing. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked out over the silent forest, alert.
The clenched fist of my heart relaxed. Something about these men standing close, guarding me made me feel safer than I ever had. I didn’t like it, but my body gave me no choice.
“You’ve suffered all these months. There is no need.” Jarl reached out to brush my brow. “We’ve waited for you to come to us.”
I had to fight my own instincts and force myself to duck away from his touch. “It’s no use. I took a vow.”
Jarl clenched his outstretched hand into a fist. “Does this vow require your death? Because we see it and know as well as you—the fever weakens you. You cannot survive it. You must submit to your lust.”
I bared my teeth at him. “Never.”
“Little one, you are not a nun anymore.”
“I will always be a nun.”
“Is your god so cruel he desires you to act against your own impulses?”
I closed my eyes to shut him out and whispered, “The wages of sin is death. Blessed are they who are pure in heart, for they shall see God.”
“It’s no use,” Fenrir said in a voice so deep, it was almost a growl. My eyes flew open.
Jarl rose. For a moment I was disappointed. I squashed that down. I was glad they were leaving. Truly.
But Jarl didn’t leave. Neither did Fenrir. They glanced at each other and golden flames lit their eyes.
“Then you leave us no choice,” Jarl said.
I scrambled upward. “What do you mean?”
His arm snapped out, and shackled my wrist before I could react. “You’re coming with us.”
I tugged, but couldn’t break free from his awesome strength. It didn’t help that his thumb feathered against my pulse and every touch weakened my limbs. “What?”
“This ends now,” Fenrir said. He crowded me until I was caged between him and his warrior brother.
Jarl drew me close until my small frame brushed his. “We’re taking you this night.”
1
Juliet
I remember the night the Berserkers sacked the abbey.
I was slumbering on my pallet, my cold feet peeking out from my thin blanket, when a scream shook me from a dreamless sleep. I was up and on my feet before I knew I was awake. The screams came from all around, echoing from the very walls. Behind me, the nuns stirred on their beds.
I ran to the narrow window and that's when I saw them: giant, silent shapes thronging the abbey. Warriors. Bearded and hulking, moonlight glinting on their axes, knives, and swords. They were huge and half naked. A few carried torches. The rest were breaking down the doors, hunting their prey down the stone halls, dragging the young women from the orphanage onto the lawn.
The screams came from a young woman in her white shift, tossed over a warrior’s shoulder. He strode from the abbey and disappeared into the forest.
My shriek died in my throat. This wasn't happening.
I raced to the door.
“Sister Juliet, stop,” the abbess cried when I would unbar it.
“We must help them!” I shouted, and fought when one of the sisters clawed me, trying to drag me back. The rest of the sisters cowered in a corner.
“Fool girl,” the abbess snarled. She wore only a night shift and her long grey hair was a pitifully thin rope down her back. “This is an invasion. We must save ourselves.”
“My sisters are in trouble.” I struggled with the attacking nun. Sister Hilda was large and round, with thick muscles from tilling the fields. She wrestled me to my knees. I gasped as my knees hit the flagstones. It seemed mad that we were fighting while the abbey was under attack.
“They are only orphans,” the abbess said, looking down her nose at me. “We are your sisters now.”
All fighting ceased when the barred door shuddered. Sister Hilda released me and we both scurried backwards, away from the splintering wood. The thick door offered not a minute of resistance. A few more seconds and the axes broke through.
Then large hands tore the door apart. The nuns behind me screamed as the hulking shapes filled the frame. Sister Hilda and the abbess fell back, but my feet would not move.
I stood between the warriors and their axes and the rest of my sister nuns. The men were even bigger than they looked from the window. They towered over me.
“Stop,” I shouted. I don’t know what possessed me, but I was seized with madness. “What is the meaning of this?”
They didn’t answer. One sniffed the air, his head raised like a wolf. “Spaewife.” Beside him stood a huge wolf—taller than me, its head bigger than mine. Another round of frightened cries went up from the nuns as the great creature slunk inside.
I spread my arms. I was shaking, but I held my ground. “You can’t come in here. We are nuns. We are peaceful. We have given ourselves to God.”
The warrior and wolf were almost upon me when two warriors pushed to the fore. One was tall and lean with long dark hair spilling down his back. He wore a fur pelt slung over his shoulder, leather breeches and nothing else. The second warrior was stockier but still huge. His arms were covered with dark designs and swirls.