Sven the Collector

  Sven the Collector

  Denali Day

  Copyright © 2019 by Denali Day

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, Denali Day, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  * * *

  Line editing by Kelley Luna

  Copy editing by May Freighter

  Cover Design by Covers by Combs

  Created with Vellum

  To Sarra Cannon

  * * *

  The “crazy” woman who told me my dreams were possible, and then showed me the way.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Did you know?

  Acknowledgments

  1

  The summer wind whipped at Colette’s sun-kissed face as she drove her mare on toward her quarry. The elusive fox raced through the grove, silver tail bobbing over the tall grass like a shining beacon, beckoning the hounds. Colette suppressed a cry of exhilaration as her mount leapt over a fallen branch and landed without so much as a hitch in its graceful stride. Behind them, Colette’s brothers, father, and a dozen of his men struggled to keep pace. As usual.

  The hounds howled, igniting a fresh burst of speed in her horse. Colette reached back for her bow; they were almost close enough for a decent shot. The smell of dampened earth and the babbling of a nearby stream sent a wave of frustration pounding through her.

  Not now! Just a bit farther!

  Ahead, the fox bounded through the grass and slipped into the treeline. No time. Colette drew an arrow and loosed it at the woodland creature. The recoil of the bowstring slapped at her leather bracer as the arrow went zooming.

  It missed.

  Need one more shot. Just one more.

  Colette cursed and drove her heels into her horse’s sides. Inhaling, she drew another arrow and took aim. She released the bowstring just as the fox took a bounding leap through the brook that bisected her father’s lands. The arrowhead missed its target by mere inches, bouncing off a stone that peaked above the water’s bubbling surface. Beneath her, Colette felt her horse’s body tense, preparing to make the jump. Gulping down a breath, Colette yanked back on the reigns, drawing her horse to a skidding halt just before they reached the water’s edge.

  For a moment, the sound of her own breath was all she could hear, followed by the puffing of her mare, and the pounding hooves of her huntmates’ horses. A handful of riders rushed past, their wind taking strands of coppery hair out of her braid.

  Collette sat stiffly in her saddle, stifling the unladylike urge to spit in their wake. They suffered no hesitation, flying like birds over the narrow creek bed, kicking up water and landing surefooted on the other side to continue the morning’s hunt. How she envied them.

  Hollen, her youngest brother, whooped at her from across the stream. The taunt was more than she could take; Colette jabbed her hand in the air, flashing the most obscene gesture she knew. It might have been more impactful if Hollen himself hadn’t been the one to teach it to her. His horse rearing back, he laughed before sprinting deeper into the grove after the others.

  Bloody swiver.

  “Colette. Come, Daughter. We will go around.”

  Colette swallowed back the bitter taste in her mouth and turned in her saddle toward her father. Lord Potrulis was a portly man whose frequent hunts were all that kept his waistline from matching the rounding of his smile-worn cheeks. Four guards flanked him, although their presence was more for Colette’s sake than for her father or brother’s. Lord Potrulis’ expression softened with the doting warmth he reserved for his only daughter, and Colette had to surrender some of her ire. But there was something else in his manner that morning which Colette couldn’t name.

  “Looks like Gareth will be making the kill today,” she grumbled, tugging the reigns to follow her father up the creekside.

  His guards made room for her to take her place at his left, farthest away from the embankment. She was glad for their silence. All of them knew about her irrational fear of water, so no one questioned why they must now make the three-mile detour to the nearest footbridge. They trotted on at a leisurely pace, assured that the fox was well out of reach.

  “Or Willam might bring it down,” Lord Potrulis said. “That boy’s been chomping at the bit for something to present to that new wife of his.”

  Colette snorted. “I don’t think he’ll find his way into the new Lady Potrulis’ heart with a bloody pelt.”

  “Ah. But your sister-in-law has an eye for furs.”

  “Mmm. And other fine things.”

  Lord Potrulis shot his daughter a mildly reproachful look. “Not every woman can occupy herself with nothing but the hunt for distraction, Daughter.”

  “Indeed not, Father. There’s also riding, archery, falconry, and swordplay.” Colette flashed her father her most winning grin, the one that was sure to earn her a laugh and rueful shake of his greying head. She received neither, and she had to ignore the itch tingling at the back of her neck. What was on her father’s mind this morning? Perhaps she should kick her mare into a canter before she was made to find out.

  She started to do just that when her father caught her mount by the reigns, staying her escape. Colette arched a brow as Lord Potrulis ordered his guards to hang back, allowing some distance between them. Defeated, Colette rode alongside her father, preparing for whatever reproach he was about to give.

  “Your mother and I are meeting with Lord Myron tomorrow night. We’d like you to attend with us.”

  Colette frowned. She didn’t care for Lord Myron, and she cared for his simpering heir even less. The younger Myron had a habit of following about on Colette’s heels until she could convince one of her older brothers to divert him with some invitation. Of course that, unfortunately, meant Colette had to excuse herself from her brother’s revelry if she was to gain any peace. This time would be worse. She’d be going to him.

  “Will any of my brothers be attending?”

  Lord Potrulis shifted awkwardly in his saddle. “No.”

  Curses. Then she was on her own. She sighed but said nothing, sensing now was not the time to protest. Perhaps she could feign illness at dinner tonight, and thus gain excusal from the journey. Birds in the nearby trees tittered their morning song as shafts of sunlight filtered in through the branches. Closing her eyes, Colette breathed in the dew-set air.

  “Colette, dearest…”

  Oh no.

  Colette’s eyes popped open. Nothing good ever came from that endearment. She shifted a sidelong glance at her father who was peering intently at her. The urge to bolt once again took hold, and Colette’s mare nickered in response to the tension rising in her body.

  “You know your mother and I only want what’s best for you.”

  No. No. No.

  If her father was invoking her mother’s name, then she was guaranteed not to like whatever came next. Forcing a smile, Colette nodded at her fidgeting father.

  “And after a lot of thought and”—he scratched at his beard, appearing to struggle for the right words—“more than enough time, we’ve decided it might be best for you to…to…”

  Don’t say it.

  “To marry.”

  Swiving hell.

  Colette fluttered her lashes at her father as though confused. “Marry? Father, what do yo
u mean?”

  Lord Potrulis’ face flushed, and he went back to scratching his beard. Were she not so mortified, she could have embraced her father for his timidity. In general, Lord Potrulis loathed upsetting his cherished daughter, and no doubt he was only broaching this subject now because his wife had demanded he does so. Colette’s mother had long ago ceased trying to reason with her unruly daughter. The day had come none too soon for Colette, who shared so little in common with her prim and proper mother, the picture of all that a Morhageese noblewoman should be. When her father spoke again, she could almost hear her mother’s voice coming out of his mouth.

  “This should come as no surprise to you, Colette. You’ve twenty-one years behind you, far more than any other unmarried women of your station.”

  “Lady Evangeline Ellis is yet unmarried, and she’s twenty-five.”

  “Lady Ellis has a bastard son. I don’t care what your mother says. Your reputation can’t be so spoiled as that.”

  The reputation he referred to was that of any woman who had the audacity to engage in diversions outside of fan waving and embroidery. Colette had bid her reputation farewell many years ago with a cheer of ‘good riddance’. After all, what could she do with a reputation? With a liability like that about her neck, her mother would have had her married off long ago.

  “Are you certain, Father? I should think you burdened to find me an obliging husband, what with all my drinking, gambling and”—she dropped her voice to a conspiratory whisper—“damn profanity.”

  Despite his unease, Lord Potrulis flashed his daughter an indulgent grin. For all the efforts her mother had put forth to ensure she raised a proper lady, Lord Potrulis had managed to benignly undermine them with his blatant approval of Colette’s rougher nature. When called out for his contribution to the tomboy that was their daughter, Lord Potrulis was quick to blame the influence of his five older sons, but the truth was plain: Lord Potrulis adored Colette precisely the way she was and would do nothing to change her.

  Until now, it seemed.

  His smile faded. “Daughter, the young Lord Myron has asked for your hand.”

  Colette’s mouth dropped in feigned shock. “What?”

  A corner of Lord Potrulis mouth stretched wryly. “Come now, this can’t really surprise you. The man adores you.”

  “Adores me? He’d lick the dirt from the bottom of my shoe!”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  “Of course it is! Father, he once followed me around at a party begging for a dance no matter how many times I refused him. I finally told him I would after I returned from the privy. The man waited at the door for me until the hostess declared the festivities over.”

  “So?”

  “He waited there for four hours, Father.”

  The lines in Lord Potrulis’ brow deepened. “You hid in a privy for four hours?”

  “Of course not. I snuck out the window.”

  For a moment, Colette thought her father was going to laugh. Instead, he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Your mother was right. You need to settle down. Perhaps marriage will do the trick.”

  “You and mother really think marriage to Lord Myron will tame me? His older sister has but to frown at him, and he cowers in her shadow. What do you think marriage to me will accomplish? Have you no pity for the man?

  Her father huffed. “Less than I should, no doubt. But what would you have me do? Is it a strong man you’re after? Your mother’s first choice was Lord Brandor.”

  Colette’s blood ran cold. Abrasive and surly, Lord Brandor was more than twice Colette’s age. Worse, on the two occasions he and Colette had met, he’d eyed her with a sort of crude assessment like he was considering the best way to break a wild horse. If there was one thing Colette feared more than being saddled with a nitwit like Lord Myron, it was the thought of being lashed to a brute like Lord Brandor. A spirit like hers would be wasted on one man and snuffed out by the other.

  Reality began to set in and adrenaline sent Colette’s heart pounding. Her knuckles blanched as her grip on the reins tightened. “Father, you can’t really mean to go through with this.”

  “I’m afraid I do. I mean, look at you.” He batted a hand in Colette’s general direction even as he avoided her with his eyes. “You’re not a child anymore. Even you must have known these days couldn’t last forever.”

  Colette swallowed hard as her mind reached for some way to sidestep this disaster. This could not be happening. Her father had made declarations of an impending change in the past, typically after some minor scandal had been discovered by her mother, and she’d leveled a hysterical tirade upon her poor husband’s ears. Little usually came of them. Why should this be any different? She simply had to be clever.

  “Father, can we not invite the Myrons to our keep tomorrow instead? There need be no haste in making any arrangement. Perhaps they could even stay the week. I’m certain that, with a bit of time, I could find it within myself to look upon this situation more favorably.”

  An utter lie. But if Colette could get the young Lord Myron to her family’s home, she was certain she could induce her five older brothers to ‘reason’ him out of his affections for her. The poor lord would probably faint as soon as he found himself alone and at the center of her imposing siblings’ attention. At times, there were advantages to being the only daughter in such a large family.

  “The arrangements have already been made.”

  Colette’s spine straightened. She drew back on her reigns and swayed with her mount as it shifted irritably from one side to the other.

  Lord Potrulis turned his own steed around, glancing back at his daughter. His mouth was pulled into a tight line. “I signed your marriage contract weeks ago. We’re taking you to Myron's for the commencement of your engagement.”

  “You…you already gave me up?”

  Her father’s jaw slackened, and he extended an open palm toward her. “Now Daughter, don’t be that way about it.”

  Tears welling, Colette drew backward, avoiding his touch. “How could you?”

  He sighed, his eyes hardening into what must have been often rehearsed willpower. “I know the life of a lady doesn’t excite you, dearest, but the world we live in isn’t kind to unmarried women, particularly not to ones as lovely and spirited as you. There will come a day when I’m not around anymore, and your brothers will have their own families and affairs to look after. I want to make sure you’re safe. Protected.”

  “I can protect myself.”

  Colette knew she sounded like a petulant child, especially as her voice cracked, but she couldn’t stop herself. With her father’s every word, she could feel her freedom being sucked away and there was nothing she could do to stop it. He’d signed a contract? And he’d waited until now to tell her? To keep her from doing something foolish, no doubt. Damn.

  Lord Potrulis smiled sadly. “From a wolf or an unwanted suitor. But there are worse things, things you can’t stave off with blade or bow.”

  She arched her brow in challenge. “Like a life of subjugation?”

  “Like a lifetime of solitude and pariahood. As for subjugation, I know you won’t give the idea any credit, but you might find that submitting yourself to the right man can bring a measure of satisfaction.”

  Colette wasn’t sure if it was shock or outrage that brought the heat to her cheeks. Her father was resolved, she could see that now. Misery dropped like a sinking stone into the pit of her stomach. Her vision blurred as she stared through her father toward the open pasture ahead.

  “Maybe you’re right...”

  Lord Potrulis sat quietly on his horse, no doubt hoping for his daughter’s forgiveness and swift acceptance of her new situation. Beloved as he was, he’d always have the former. The latter? Not a chance.

  “But damn me to hell if Lord Myron is that man.”

  With a kick of Collette’s heels, her mare shot forward, brushing past her father’s nickering steed
. She heard her father call and whistle for the guards to hurry in pursuit. She wasn’t really running away. Surely they knew that. Where could she go? Still, the instinct to flee was overwhelming, and Colette basked in the glorious sensation of temporarily escaping fate. For a moment, she was the fox, but unlike it, she wouldn’t be caught until she was good and resigned to be. Leaning forward, she galloped over the grassy-green plain.

  Up ahead, a flash of silver caught Colette’s attention. She squinted against the early climbing sun. Could it be? Two silver-tails in one hunt? The tuft of shining fur disappeared then reemerged as the fox leapt around a grey boulder. Despite everything, Colette grinned and urged her horse onward.

  They burst through the meadow, picking up speed and lengthening the distance between them and her father’s men. Right about now, father was probably cursing himself for gifting her with such a fine steed. Between it and her own considerable skill, catching up with Colette would be a feat. Splendid.

  They were almost there. The fox had been caught in the open, and the creature had little chance of escaping. It raced up and over a nearby knoll, disappearing over the edge. Cresting the hill, Colette’s eyes scanned the dipping valley below. A gust of wind had her batting stray locks of hair out of her face just as she caught sight of her quarry. It was racing down toward the darkened treeline. Colette’s breath caught in her throat.

  The Twist.

  “Hyah!” She drove her heels into her mare’s sides, urging her to run faster before it was too late. Reaching back, Colette drew up her bow, determined to make the kill before the fox could vanish into that black labyrinth. Leaning low in the saddle to preserve her balance, she lined up the shot and released her arrow.

  The shaft just grazed across the fox’s hip, and it yipped. A flash of crimson assured Colette that she’d nicked her target, but the animal did not slow. It sped on, dissolving into the stunted shadows of the trees.