Hollen the Soulless: A Fantasy Romance (Dokiri Brides Book 1) Read online

  Hollen The Soulless

  Dokiri Brides Series

  Denali Day

  Contents

  1. The Dragon Submits to None

  2. Better Forgiveness Than Permission

  3. Bride by Right

  4. Joselyn Helena Elise Fury

  5. Bonded

  6. Bloody Savages

  7. Obsidian Wings

  8. Starting Fires

  9. Brothers and Brides

  10. May the Mountain Fall

  11. Mu Saliga

  12. A Wild Night

  13. Huntress

  14. Veligiri

  15. Duty First

  16. Little Sister

  17. Stoking Fires

  18. Leaning Back

  19. Fools Rush In

  20. Out of the Frying Pan

  21. Hollen’s Wrath

  22. Twice Wronged

  23. The Strongest Among Us

  24. The Soulless

  25. Small Steps

  26. The Glory of the Gods

  27. Judgment Day

  28. Playing Games

  29. Confessor

  30. Gegatudok

  31. The Shoulders of the Mountain

  32. A Feast for the Gods

  33. Brother of My Heart

  34. Hard Choices

  35. The Gameboard of Lords

  36. Kept Vows

  37. Mark of the Captive

  38. The Butcher of Brance

  39. Wings in a Snare

  40. For the Love of a Savage

  41. A Beacon of Hope

  42. Knitting Scars

  43. Mu Hatu

  Want more?

  About the Author

  Also by Denali Day

  Glossary

  Acknowledgments

  A Special Bonus

  Copyright © 2020 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, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Design by Covers by Combs

  Line Editing by Kelley Luna

  Developmental Editing by Courtney Kelly

  Created with Vellum

  For my husband

  My alpha in more ways than one.

  1

  The Dragon Submits to None

  “He’s a monster! The man your father wants you to marry, he’s the foulest sort of depraved!”

  Joselyn stiffened at her nurse’s words, her slender fingers wrinkling the page she’d been about to turn. Outside, torrents of rain pelted the study windows. “Tansy? Calm yourself. What’s wrong?”

  Tansy, a stout, middle-aged woman with graying hair, clutched at Joselyn’s arm. She leaned forward to catch her breath. “Milady, I ran here as fast as I could. Straight from the council chamber.”

  “They let you in?” Joselyn set the logbook down on her lacquered desk. It bumped against an untouched dinner tray. The area was a mess of quills and parchment, a testament to the long nights she’d spent ensuring everything at Fury Keep was in order. Ready for winter and her own final farewell.

  Tansy ignored the question. “I heard it all! Every word. Dante Viridian has a heart black as soot. He’s not a man, he’s a demon. A demon born of the dirt at the bottom of the sea!”

  “Tansy!” Joselyn took her beloved nurse by the arms. “Slow down. Tell me what happened.”

  Through the window, a thick storm cloud shrouded the last of the sun’s rays, darkening her nurse’s reddened eyes. “Your father was meeting with your fiancé’s representatives, discussing the terms of your nuptials, when Lord Ellis barged right into the council chamber.”

  Joselyn gasped at the mention of her former suitor, the man Joselyn had thought she would marry. “Lord Ellis? What did he want?”

  “He wasn’t alone! There were so many men about, I thought surely the guards would flash steel, but he had a woman with him.”

  “A woman? Who?”

  “Just some peasant woman from Brance. A pretty little thing, or at least”—Tansy choked on her tears—“she used to be. Maybe. Before he got to her.”

  Joselyn’s heart thrummed in her chest so hard it burned. She forced herself not to squeeze her nurse too tightly as she waited for the rest of the story. Tansy swallowed, her voice cracking.

  “She’d been cut up. That monster carved up her face like a slab of raw meat. It was awful, Joselyn! I don’t know how the girl survived.”

  “You’re saying my intended did this? Dante Viridian?”

  As Tansy nodded, a crack of thunder shook the stone keep and the vibrations rumbled up Joselyn’s buckling knees. She gripped the desk, steadying herself as Tansy rushed on.

  “Lord Ellis brought the girl to your father as proof. Swore there’s a dozen more victims just like her, but he only had time to hunt down the one. He begged your father to break off the marriage negotiations, or at least to slow things down. Begged him to reconsider.”

  “And”—Joselyn licked her lips—“what did my father say?”

  Tansy broke into an agonized sob and pressed her gray head into Joselyn’s shoulder. Hot tears soaked through the blue silk of her dress, onto her freckled skin. Joselyn swallowed hard.

  What are you doing, Father?

  She’d been shocked enough when her father had initiated marriage negotiations with House Viridian. Apart from their wool trade, Viridian was a house teetering on the edge of total obscurity. Not like her own house, whose lord was second in line for the throne. And now this? It couldn’t be true.

  Joselyn stroked Tansy’s curls, reveling in the old woman’s love, the affection she gave so freely. Unlike the woman who’d borne Joselyn. Unlike the man who’d sired her.

  “Hush, now, Tansy. All will be well. Lord Ellis is an ambitious man. He’d do anything to secure the alliance between his house and ours. It’s not so hard to imagine him staging the whole affair.”

  Tansy tore out of her charge’s arms, sobering. “I’m an old woman, Joselyn. I know a kettle of tripe when I smell it. Those scars wasn’t fresh and they wasn’t staged. Where there’s smoke there’s a fire, and I tell you, Dante Viridian is the Butcher of Brance.”

  Joselyn’s stomach dropped. She’d heard the rumors. Everyone had. The Butcher of Brance, a beast of epic brutality, had plagued the lands of House Viridian for the better part of the last decade. Dismembered stable boys, children lashed to death, women mutilated in such ways that Joselyn’s maids would not repeat the details. That the fiend had not yet been identified and brought to justice was brow-raising to even the most skeptical gossip. According to rumor, all victims had been serfs, and very few had ever survived.

  “You can’t go through with it, milady. You mustn't.”

  Joselyn frowned. “What would you have me do?”

  “Tell your father no, child. Just this once. Refuse him!”

  Joselyn squeezed her nurse’s hand. Tell Lord Fury no? Refuse him? Like the useless, petulant daughter he was always waiting for her to turn into? The one he expected her to be?

  No. I think not.

  Joselyn would get to the bottom of this. It made no sense. Lord Fury was no fool. If this was the decision he’d made, there was a good reason. And she’d be damned if she left her home behind without knowing what it was.

  Tansy continued on in a panicked frenzy. “The barons will support you. Your father’s own steward disapproved of the match, and that was before we knew you was to be wed to the Butcher of Brance.” She w
hispered the title as though it would bring a curse upon them.

  “I must speak with my father.”

  “Yes, child, tell him! Tell that miserable bastard you won’t be his—”

  Joselyn released her nurse. “That’s the Lord of Tirvine you speak of, Tansy. Your lord.”

  Tansy stiffened, choking back her words. No one spoke ill of her father in front of Joselyn. Not even Tansy. Joselyn wouldn’t have it. If she had to show him respect, then, by the gods, so would everyone else.

  “Despite what you think, my father has my best interests at heart,” Joselyn said.

  The familiar lie slipped out, and Tansy, bless her heart, was wise enough to let the subject drop. The old woman’s lip quivered, and Joselyn’s heart ached for the only person who had ever shown her loyalty. She pressed a gray curl out of her nurse’s face. “No matter what happens, I will survive it. I’ll survive it and come out stronger. You believe me, don’t you?”

  Tansy shook her head. A tear rolled down her plump cheek. “You can’t mean to go through with it. Surely you wouldn’t submit yourself to a beast.”

  Joselyn fingered the golden pendant she’d been given the day she was born. One side depicted a great dragon, spewing fire. The other was engraved with her family’s credo.

  “There is no greater beast than the dragon, Tansy”—she swept her thumb over the words and released the pendant—“and ‘the dragon submits to none.’ ”

  Joselyn’s slippered footsteps echoed down the sweeping stone halls of her lifelong home. Shadows flickered in the torch light of a hundred iron sconces. The effect gave Joselyn a sense of vertigo as she hurried to her father’s chambers.

  Thunderclaps shook the corridors, as if the storm were threatening to collapse the stone walls around her. Let it try. Fury Keep was as indomitable as it was cold. Nothing so wild and scorching as a bolt of lightning would master it.

  Joselyn was just ordering her father’s guards aside when his steward exited through the heavy doors. A haggard, frustrated expression dominated his battle-scarred face.

  “Sir Richard.” Joselyn greeted the tall man with a curtsy. “I trust today’s negotiations weren’t too exhausting.”

  Richard hesitated when he saw her, the corners of his mouth pulled into a frown. “Milady Joselyn. I am indeed as tired as I must seem. You, on the other hand, glow radiant as ever.”

  Joselyn flashed him a polite smile.

  He continued, “It’s no small wonder that you stand before me now, proud and fierce as ever.”

  “And why would I not? Is this not a happy day for House Fury?” Joselyn asked. Go on. Tell me why I should be afraid.

  Sir Richard regarded her. For a moment she thought she saw a flicker of regret cross his features. Or was it shame? In the end he only sighed. “As you say, milady.”

  Joselyn watched him go, wondering what the man thought of the day’s events. Had he been like her father’s other knights, begging him to reconsider the alliance with House Viridian? Had he begged on her behalf? Not that it mattered. No one told a man like Marcus Fury what to do.

  She turned to the door, blinked, and sucked in a steadying breath. A guard knocked for her. After a long moment, Lord Fury answered. Joselyn let out the breath, and her shoulders relaxed the barest of inches. The guards pushed the doors open.

  Courage.

  As she stepped over the threshold, her eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness. She scanned the cavernous room. The hearth lay empty, and Joselyn shuddered at the autumnal chill. Silken blankets were smoothed down to pristine perfection across the massive bed.

  A bolt of lightning lit up the room, and Joselyn’s gaze landed on her father. His back to the window, he sat with his legs crossed upon a great carved chair, upholstered in rich crimson. To his side rested a lamp which provided the room’s only light save for the sconces at the entrance.

  “Father?”

  Marcus raised a hand, beckoning her.

  Joselyn glided across the room with practiced grace. Beneath her swooping sleeves, she clasped her balmy hands together. His eyes stared her down as she approached.

  Marcus Fury was a man early into the second half of his life. The years had not robbed him of his good looks, however. The lines upon his face were shallow. His hair, though faded, still contained brilliant streaks of red which, in addition to the cleft in his chin, were the only features Joselyn had inherited from him. His gray eyes held a constant severity that inspired men to obedience. That severity rested heavily upon her now as she waited. She knew better than to speak before he’d given her permission. Finally, Lord Fury arched a brow.

  “Did you know?” Joselyn’s nails dug into her palms.

  After a long moment, “Yes.”

  Of course he knew. Marcus Fury was as shrewd as he was cunning. He would not enter into a marital alliance with another house without first knowing everything about its lord and people. Her legs began to shake. At least he’d spoken truthfully. It must suit him tonight.

  “Your intended’s reputation for violence will not do.”

  Joselyn’s heart withered at his flat tone.

  Lord Fury went on, “When you marry you’ll mind he takes more care to clean up after himself. You may take his name, but the son you bear him will take our house. House Fury must not suffer for your husband’s perversions. Put him in check.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Are you prepared to do your duty, Daughter?”

  Duty was Joselyn’s god and master, and she was the highest of priestesses. Her father knew this well. She swallowed. “Haven’t I always?”

  “You’re a woman. Until now nothing significant has ever been required of you.”

  No? Joselyn’s gaze dropped to her fingers, covered in black ink stains. She felt the throbbing ache in her neck from hours bent over one account book or another. All to ensure that Lord Fury was never troubled over affairs he deemed insignificant.

  “I manage your estate, reconcile your logbooks, entertain your guests, give—”

  “Any backwater lady can run a manor. Your mother was an expert in such things. You of all people know how little it meant in the end. Are you like your mother?”

  Joselyn gritted her teeth. How could he ask her that? How dare he? “No.”

  Her father huffed. “We’ll see.”

  Joselyn shook her head, despair getting the better of her. “But, why?”

  Marcus cocked his head. “Why?”

  Dropping to her knees, she grasped at his hand. “Yes, Father, why?”

  Lord Fury eyed her with irritation and Joselyn shrank. She folded her hands in her lap. Her father had a way of waiting people out until the silence had his opponents blathering over themselves. By the end of the discussion, he would have inevitably won whatever he was after, having said almost nothing at all. Joselyn would not be fooled into a one-sided conversation. Not this time. She remained totally still.

  For once in your life, Father, take pity on me.

  Marcus heaved a sigh and clicked his tongue. “As Lord of a dying house, Dante Viridian would do anything to preserve his legacy.”

  Joselyn broke in. “Yes, a blood alliance between Viridian and Fury would no doubt give him what he desires. But what can you possibly stand to gain, Father?”

  His lips thinned. Joselyn battled the urge to cringe.

  Skies, Joselyn! Be silent.

  “We gain nothing. What we avoid is the destruction of our house.”

  Lord Fury turned toward the nightstand and poured himself a glass of wine. He swished the burgundy liquid in the silver goblet before taking an agonizingly slow sip. “Three weeks ago, Dante Viridian sent a missive to our keep. It contained a list of dates and locations as well as a number of anonymous testimonials lending credibility to the letter’s contents.” A few more languid sips and he continued, “The dates and locations correspond with the occasions I have met with Queen Arabella over the past three years.”

  Joselyn choked as though she were the one dr
inking the wine. Her gaze tried to connect with her father’s, but he was pointedly ignoring her in favor of his cup.

  “Father?” she whispered, her question unspoken.

  “Yes, Daughter,” Marcus answered, still not meeting her eyes. “I’ve been plowing the king’s wife.”

  Joselyn swayed. Had she not already been on her knees she would surely have fallen. When Marcus finally met her gaze it was Joselyn who looked away.

  “I see,” she murmured. Her shoulders slumped, and she pressed a hand to the carpeted floor, trying to remain upright.

  As a woman, Joselyn wasn’t privy to most of her father’s activities. Had she been the son her father longed for, she might have guessed that proud Lord Fury would only consider such an alliance under the threat of blackmail. And what a great threat it was.

  Should King Travaran learn of her father’s indiscretions, Marcus Fury’s head would be lopped off immediately. Possibly without a trial. There was more at stake than the sanctity of the royal union. Though healthy, King Travaran was an old man, and his only heir was a son too young to rule. Should the king suddenly die under tragic circumstances, Queen Arabella would rule as regent in his stead. And Lord Fury, as her consort as well as third in line for the throne, would hold more power than any other man in the kingdom.

  The very worst detail of all, was that the young Prince Cyran was not the son of Queen Arabella. Rather, he was born of the king’s first wife who’d died in childbirth. Should both King Travaran and Prince Cyran die, Marcus Fury would become king of all Morhagen. An affair between her father and the queen reeked of both treason and conspiracy.