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The story of the mad king is so old it’s comical.
It makes me wonder if my descent into madness started even before Celine Dumont rejected me. Does it go hand in hand with the stress of ruling? Was I destined to break? Have I always been mad?
These rare moments of clarity are more crazy-making than the madness. A sane person doesn’t question whether or not they have lost their mind.
A sane person doesn’t see ghosts.
A sane person doesn’t black out and have their alter ego take over.
Where is the line drawn between me and my unhinged alter ego? How different are we, really? We are, after all, two sides of the same metaphorical coin.
They are both me.
If I wasn’t such a coward, I would come clean to Fintan and Rune. Or take care of the problem myself. I would rather go out on my own terms while some remnants of my old self are still alive.
The scuffing of shoes against the pebbled floor rouses me from my thoughts.
I open my eyes expecting to see Manon, but the only thing I see is a fork in the path, empty dirt and stone down each one. I look over my shoulder, but she’s not following from behind either.
“Rune?” I call quietly, knowing the tunnels will carry my voice.
All I receive in response is a hiss of sound from the branch to the left. I follow the noise, and when I turn the corner, I find my second-in-command carrying Josephine in his arms—a sight that both intrigues and infuriates me.
Her delicate body rests against his chest, and the unity bond has etched itself upon their beings and left a radiant, crimson glow in Rune’s eyes.
But it’s the unwanted, ghostly visitor that gains my attention.
Manon hovers close to Rune, leaning over him until her hair brushes against Josephine’s face, making the witch stir. Manon’s lip pulls back as she opens her mouth over Josephine’s pale neck, fangs poised to strike her jugular.
“No!”
Rune whirls in my direction, hissing at me to be quiet. “What is wrong with you? She’s asleep,” he whispers, looking pointedly at the Sun Witch in his arms.
“I’ve been looking for you.” I ignore Manon’s satisfied smirk that tells me my reaction played right into her hand.
If I keep acting strange, Rune and Fintan will put the pieces together, whether I want them to or not.
“And?”
My gaze narrows at the challenge in his tone. “Did you forget you were supposed to meet me nearly an hour ago?”
“I didn’t forget. I just had something to take care of first.” He brushes past me, as intent on ignoring me as I am on ignoring Manon.
I notice the fresh imprint of fangs on Josephine’s neck and get a waft of the potent aroma of lust that clings to him.
“Ah, and take care of her, you did,” I say.
Rune scowls at me. “Be very careful what you say next, Bas. Josie is our mate. Ours to protect.”
I wish I could share his opinion of the woman. From where I sit, she is merely a vicious reminder of the worst moments in my long life.
But that is a very unpopular opinion.
“First, you lose Fintan, and now your trusted Viking brute?” Manon smooths a black wave of hair from Josephine’s neck and leans in for a better look at Rune’s mark. “Your brothers are growing more attached to her by the hour, my love.”
The madness rears its head, and I grit my teeth as I stave off the inevitable.
“Does Fintan know you’ve made Josephine your own?” I ask, my tone more accusing than I mean it to come out.
