The Wrong Bride (Kings of Fury #1)

Chapter 5

Chapter

Five

Finding Inner Peace Amidst the Battle Cries: How to Keep Your Cool When He’s Lost His Sword

From A Beginner’s Guide to Berserker Bliss

Author Unknown

I flew up the staircase, my guard dogs directly behind me. Spying a young housekeeper, I pasted on my best smile and said, “If you have a moment, I’d love an official tour of the castle?—”

She dashed off.

Oookay. Thankfully I spotted a second employee. “Hi there,” I called.

This one paled, dropped her dusting cloth, and ran. I sighed. Clearly the problem was me. Although, if these women worked in the home of a fierce berserker king, I shouldn’t be a source of fright. Therefore, Isobel had lied. Because of course she had. Berserkers. In real life. How ridiculous.

Squaring my shoulders, I marched forward. I’d do this the old-fashioned way and open every door, drawer, cabinet, and cubby.

What I discovered during my search? Tons of bedrooms, each in a different shade of blue. Three sitting rooms practically begged me to relax and curl up with a new book. The modern, insanely luxurious theater had probably never showed a cozy mystery romance, something that would change if I stayed much longer. An awe-inspiring gym offered a high-tech treadmill I would be using to shed some stress. A first-class kitchen provided an enviable pantry and a delightful buttery. I’d always enjoyed baking. A way to snack extra good, yes, but also another means of relaxing an overworked mind.

Strange how there were zero photos or portraits of Callen and Isobel as a couple or even separate. Nothing to showcase snapshots of their lives. However, there were more—many more—of those paintings featuring heart removal. In most, the organ glowed. A plaque underneath each frame listed a date hundreds of years old. A few canvases presented female warriors dragging chained wolflike creatures to stone tables surrounded by piles of bones and hearts. Nearby, severed heads topped poles.

A massive solar showcased an array of ancient sculptures depicting fierce warriors, both men and women, fighting naked, their expressions frozen in varying stages of rage. They brandished strange weapons taller than me. Those same instruments of death filled an armory, also fully stocked with modern firepower.

Berserker worthy, though? Not really. But I could guess where Isobel had found inspiration for her story.

Get rid of the battlefield memorabilia and add a library overflowing with cozy mysteries, romances, and historical tomes, and the castle was my dream house .

Unfortunately, two locked rooms prevented me from completing my inspection. Both possessed massive entrances that spanned from floor to ceiling, with no transom. While the handles and hinges harkened to another time, the high-quality material doors had a contemporary vibe.

I rapped my knuckles against the polished finish of the first. Wood-plated steel? But where did it lead? To another bedroom? An even more serious armory? A playroom of debauchery? A collection of skulls? Seriously, what was Callen Bruce hiding from his brand-new wife?

I turned to the bodyguards who never left my side. “Do you know what’s in the locked rooms?”

They remained stoic and silent. Whatever. I’d learn the answer one way or another. Later. Needing time to think, I headed outside, minus my guards, and aimed for the garage I’d seen out some windows. Expensive cars filled the colossal space, but I found no keys.

Nearby, a stable teemed with thoroughbred horses. I petted one after the other, cooing with excitement. I’d always wanted to ride. Could I get one of these beauties out of its stall, climb aboard and gallop to safety? Maybe. But I still leaned toward my win-over Callen idea. He could pay to have Isobel brought straight to my door.

Yes, better to stay. To try. I mean, I risked danger either way.

From there, I discovered a five-star pool worthy of awards. The stonework glistened in sunlight, and the hot tub bubbled. A bridge stretched across a winding river, leading to a central firepit up top while hiding a private grotto below. A large cabana offered a delightful area with padded lounge chairs where I could watch armed guards patrolling the surrounding parapet. The cool temperature lacked oppressive Oklahoma sunshine, only adding to the appeal. Plus…

I removed my shoes and dipped a toe in the water. Ah! Warm! The perfect complement to a heather-infused breeze. Isobel owned swimsuits; I’d seen them in her drawers. Why not relax, maybe log a few laps, and ponder the more disturbing things I’d discovered during my exploration? I mean wolf heads? Seriously?

“Shall I bring your usual refreshment, Mrs. Bruce?” an unfamiliar voice asked.

Startled by the intrusion, I spun and faced the speaker. The very maid I’d run into earlier. A petite brunette in her early twenties. She kept her gaze downcast. Afraid to meet my eyes? Props for gathering the courage to approach Isobel at all.

Using my gentlest tone, I told her, “Refreshment, yes. Usual, no.” I could guess the redhead’s preference. A bottle of whiskey, glass optional. No, thank you. I required brain food. “I’d love a fruit and vegetable smoothie. And a friend. If you bring two, we can–”

Off she scurried, ending my invite.

With a heavier sigh, I returned to Isobel’s bedroom and swapped my current outfit for a swimsuit. A pale pink one piece with a deep V and bunting around the midriff. Not bad. I grabbed a pair of ginormous sunglasses, Isobel’s phone, and a towel. A noticeable pep infused my step as I headed back to the pool.

Still no sign of my bodyguards. No sign of Lady Thorn, either. Where were they all hiding? Because there was no way the beefy duo and royal canine weren’t watching my every move.

In the shaded cabana, a single dark blue slushie waited for me, beads of condensation dripping from the frosted glass. To my immense disappointment, the maid was long gone. How was I supposed to stealthily grill someone for answers if no one stuck around?

Whatever. I had things to mull. I eased onto a lounger, picked up my drink and sipped—oh wow! So good! Dang if I didn’t suddenly feel like I’d extended my vacation.

But I wasn’t on vacation, was I? Instead, I was fighting for my life. No telling what damage the monstrous Isobel was doing to my family.

A pang of homesickness tore through my chest. Okay, forget Callen and the things I’d found in his house. Here, now, I yearned to call my mother. Should I? Shouldn’t I?

Darlene Darcy would never believe a strange woman claiming to be her daughter, especially while said daughter could visit her at any time. And yet…

If I provided sufficient proof, maybe there was a slight chance she’d take me seriously.

But what if she blocked Isobel’s number? What then? I’d have no avenue to reach my mother. And what if Mama did believe me? Would she and my stepfather empty their savings to fly to Scotland and challenge Callen, a supposed berserker? I hadn’t forgotten his supposed reaction to his brother’s challenge.

Ugh. Again, whichever road I traveled came with enormous hazards. Maybe I should wait to phone her. Let her spend a couple days with Isobel and begin to realize how drastically her daughter had changed. Then she’d be more inclined to listen to a ridiculous story about waking up in the wrong body.

The same maid appeared beside my lounger. “Another smoothie, Mrs. Bruce?”

I was kinda sure I detected a note of resentment in her voice. No matter. “I’d love one, but only if you’ll join me. I’ll be nice, I promise. The nicest!”

She hesitated, staying put, and I mentally high-fived myself. Sweet progress!

“Believe it or not,” I said, pressing on, “I’ve become a totally different person since the wedding.”

“I’m sure you have,” she mumbled before shooting off like a bullet.

Minutes passed, but she never returned. Guess I’d pressed too hard.

I heaved another sigh, my shoulders slumping. The reality of my situation coiled around me, an invisible boa strangling me with each new deliberation. The maids with their fear and avoidance–tighten. The two shadows monitoring my every move inside the house–tighten. The fur beast–tighten. Callen’s refusal to see me, or even speak to me, despite my obvious differences from Isobel–tighten, tighten, tighten.

Utterly alone with zero other options, I could only wait and hope for an opportunity to learn more. The delay intensified my frustration. I taught children with special needs to face and overcome their obstacles, yet I must sit back and simply watch as my life imploded bit by bit.

I stood and stalked to the pool. Blanking my mind, I descended the steps to enter the warm, crystal-clear liquid. Fully immersed, I kicked off, expecting to get lost. Logging in a few dozen laps might get my blood pumping and my mind settled. Except, as I got into the groove, gliding from one side to the other, my thoughts whirled faster.

Perhaps if I was less of a burden to the housekeepers, acted extra friendly, helpful even, I could possibly develop a much needed friendship with a confidant.

As for Buzz and Ponytail, I must earn their trust. Appear to welcome their presence, and over time turn them from bodyguards to allies. Then, when the time was right, I could make my escape.

The biggest challenge was, of course, my husband. I had no control over Callen and his intensity. But maybe, with calm and logic, I could convince him to divorce me. Or rather, Isobel. Then she might willingly come home and perform another switch. With the stroke of a pen, both husband, wife, and the unwitting third party could be free of this travesty of a union. And it wasn’t like she wanted to live the life of a teacher in Oklahoma. It was worth a shot, anyway. Besides, proving we should divorce and winning him over relied on the same strategy: being myself. I knew how to rock a friend zone.

There was no need to be cruel. My aim wasn’t to hurt the cold but possibly immortal Callen. I only wished to highlight our incompatibility and/or earn his friendship. Laudable goals.

So. Gold stamp this scheme. If it worked in either capacity, we’d all enjoy a happy ending. Even the redhead who didn’t deserve it. A fact I couldn’t bemoan. By the grace of God, I hadn’t gotten everything I had deserved throughout the different chapters of my life. And I didn’t know what had brought Isobel to this point in her life. Why not show her a little compassion?

Her less resilient body tired out far quicker than I expected. Though I was used to running five miles on my treadmill every day, I began to wheeze as if I hadn’t performed a single minute of exercise since birth. After lumbering out of the water, I toweled off and trudged back to my bedroom for a nap. Well, not mine, not exactly. I didn’t belong here.

Great. Lady Thorn had returned. She stood near her empty food bowl, peering at me expectantly, clearly ready for second breakfast.

After serving the monstress her meal and only earning two growls–small victories mattered–I strode to the closet to change and caught sight of my reflection. Ugh. My skin had pinkened. Not something I was used to dealing with, despite the unforgiving Oklahoma sun. I’d have to be more careful from now on.

Would Callen notice the burn? When would he return? What was this clan meeting about? What was I supposed to wear?

Tension invaded my limbs, knotting the muscles. He expected me to attend and yeah, okay, I’d thought it was a good idea originally. Gotta observe others for signs of immortality and all that. But what if I made a public mistake?

Forget being fatigued. Now I needed to drain more energy. I changed into a pair of jeans and a soft sweater I’d previously missed, then donned the least uncomfortable looking boots and headed outside to view the rest of the property. Still no sign of my guards.

I admit I visited the stables to pet the horses before I turned my sights to a garden maze. A sense of foreboding washed over me as I passed the arched, open gate. Let the sensation deter me? No. I wasn’t some wilting violet. Plus, it might be nice to enjoy a little peace and quiet amid the twists and bends. But. Huh. Did I hear the howl of a wolf emanating from somewhere up ahead? Isobel had mentioned a war with shifters.

Deciding to turn around, I returned the way I’d come. Or attempted to. Where was the exit? And where did that pear tree come from?

The sun began its descent, the temperature dropping from cool to cold in a matter of minutes. Hoping to conserve warmth as I tried another path, I wrapped my arms around my middle. Oh, wow. The bushes grew into bigger walls, towering over me.

I stopped and performed a full turn. Um. Where was I?

Heart thudding, I retraced my steps and passed the pear tree again. Then again. Sunlight continued to dwindle, shadows thickening. My teeth chattered from shock and fright as much as cold.

The leafy maze walls seemed to close in on me, bringing more darkness. Panic squeezed my chest. “Help,” I called. Never be too proud to request help; something I taught the students in my care. I only prayed I didn’t summon the wolf. “Someone? Anyone?”

No response. The heart-thudding intensified, but I refused to give in to hysteria. Should I stay put? The bodyguards must be hunting for me. Yes, yes. They’d find me if I just remained in place. But an eternity passed as I huddled half-inside, half-outside a bush. The moon eked across the night sky, and still no one came.

In the distance, the wolf howled with greater menace, and I shuddered. In response to the wild animal’s call, distressed dogs barked, and birds twittered.

Had I made the wrong call? Should I have kept walking? I inched away from the protection of the bush, thinking to move on, but the wind kicked up, slapping limbs together and rustling leaves. Okay, so, here I stayed. My sunburn provided a soft waft of heat, yet I grew colder, soon plagued by shivers.

Tears stung my eyes. Every movie where a lone traveler died in the elements played in my mind. Maybe now was the time to panic after all.

No. Nope. Not happening. Any moment, Callen would return home and send someone to search for me. Surely. Perhaps he’d even come for me himself, ready to castigate me for causing us to miss the clan meeting. According to Isobel, he could find me in a matter of minutes.

The tension in my shoulders loosened. Yes, Callen would come. But another eternity passed, my hope slowly withering.

He wasn’t coming. No one was coming. Had I already completed my mission and convinced Callen to wash his hands of me?

Sniffling, I wiped my runny nose with the sleeve of my sweater. The moon was nothing but a sliver now, making it too dark to navigate the winding corridors of greenery. If I stumbled somewhere I shouldn’t, or gained the attention of a wild animal, I’d only worsen my predicament. At least the maze walls offered a windbreak from the worst of the elements. The best I could do was survive the night and set off in the morning.

Exhaustion infused every part of my body, my limbs too heavy to lug around, anyway. I leaned my head against a sturdy branch, mashing my lips together to cut off a sob. My eyelids slid closed. The cold bothered me less and less as I drifted away on a cloud of?—

“You are the most stubborn creature in existence.”

The low, irritated voice yanked me to the present. My eyelids popped open. Callen! At my side, he bent down and scooped me into his arms. He’d come to fetch me!

He marched through the maze, carrying me close to his chest. And mmm. He radiated the most delicious heat. I nuzzled closer.

Stumbling a little, he snapped, “I should let you suffer for pulling a stunt like this. ”

“Stunt?” I peered up at him and huffed a breath. “I got lost.”

“Really? That’s your story?” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “You walked it before, Isobel.”

Oh. “Stress adversely affects the memory. It’s science, look it up.”

The muscle jumped again. “You wished to avoid the clan meeting, nothing more.”

“Wrong. That was just a bonus,” I muttered, too tired to mind my tongue.

He carted me over a threshold, entering an empty castle ballroom. More commanding than usual, he said, “You will attend tomorrow’s meeting.”

“Maybe.” I had more thinking to do.

“You will.” A growl rumbled in his chest. “What are you doing now—stop.”

The cuddling? “Sure. As soon as you stop blasting such amazing heat,” I told him, too cozy to be intimidated.

He missed another step but recovered gracefully. “Careful, wife. You donna wish to provoke my beast.”

Forget cozy. I went still and cold at once. Beast? Was that an admission or a simple reference to a normal raging temper? As we moved through the hallways, I intoned, “You can put me down. I’ve got it from here.”

He didn’t argue, and he didn’t speak. No, he did what I’d requested. Put me down and stalked off, leaving me behind. Not exactly the behavior of a living conduit of rage.

With a huff, I headed for Isobel’s room. I wasn’t any closer to answers, but at least I’d lived to see another day. I called that a win.