A Beast So Broken: An Enemies to Lovers Shifter Romance (Devoured By Dusk Book 1) Read online

  The four of them descended to the tented stall, many of the villagers bowing before Lady Esther. Jealousy stabbed at Anya like a thorn, but she vowed never to be hateful like Gwen.

  The wives of knights and millers were not bowed to, though she could amass considerable wealth. On top of Domeric’s good standing, her father had never sired a son, or any other child, so it was likely that one of her children would apprentice to become a smith and eventually take over her father’s shop.

  Eileen rushed to meet them, red-faced and out of breath.

  “Were they as gallant as you’d hoped?” Anya asked, brushing the girl’s hair from her face.

  Anya loved Eileen’s wild charm. Her friend didn’t care so much about what others thought, and she put very little effort into looking comely for the village boys. Because of this, she was refreshingly honest…and innocent.

  “Their horses are near twice the size of Master Jessup’s!”

  Gwen smirked and let out a condescending sigh. “That’s not so big. Master Jessup’s horses are bred for speed.”

  Why must she be so rude?

  “Still,” Eileen said, her face bright with excitement, “they were marvelous to watch.”

  Gwen scrunched her nose. “You’ve made a mess of yourself.”

  The girls chuckled. They knew Eileen didn’t care if dust caked her dress and hair. She’d much rather be in a tunic and trousers, but her mother would never allow for it.

  “And what fun is this?” Eileen asked, staring at the tent.

  “Essie...I mean, Lady Esther has been most gracious and has offered to treat us to a fortune-telling!” Maryil said, beaming at the stall.

  “Is that what I’ll be doing?” an aged voice croaked.

  A hunched figure hobbled out from the tent flap, yellow-skinned and sparse of hair. She wasn’t just old; she was ancient, and not at all pleasant to look upon.

  Lady Esther approached the woman, palms upward as a show of peaceful intention. “If you could be so kind—”

  “Cut yer courtesy and show me yer coin,” the hag snapped, thrusting a plump hand with unkempt nails at Essie.

  “Would five coppers be sufficient for five fortunes?” Essie asked as she pulled coins from her satchel.

  The hag coughed, her hand shaking as she waited for the coins to drop. “Five coppers? Ten would be better and a silver would be best.”

  “You’ll get five coppers, or you’ll get nothing at all,” Essie replied firmly. “It’s not like you have anything better to do.” Essie gestured at the villagers and townsfolk, who were clearly more interested in the food stalls.

  The hag’s fat tongue worked its way in and out of her mouth, like a fat worm, around broken teeth, strings of saliva dripping down her chin. “Ye want a copper’s worth of fortune. Fine. But ye may not like what ya hear.” She pocketed the coins and disappeared into her tent.

  “One at a time,” the hag bellowed.

  Maryil moved forward, but Gwen cut her off, entering first. She closed the flap behind her, and a moment later, cursing sounded from inside the stall.

  “Gwen, a born diplomat,” Essie scoffed.

  When the tent flap finally opened again, Gwen stood as if in a daze, white-faced and grim.

  “How was it?” Maryil enthused.

  Without a word, Gwen shoved her aside, walking off towards the village, away from the festivities.

  “I wonder what’s gotten into her?” Eileen said, watching their pretty friend stalk off.

  “Must be she didn’t like what she heard.” Essie smiled. “Mayhap she’s going to marry some aged lord, getting that ladyship she so desires.”

  No one dared respond, but Anya was pretty sure they all knew that Gwen would be fine with an aged lord. They weren’t long for this world.

  Maryil went next, eventually exiting the tent with a confused expression. Then came Eileen’s turn, and although she looked solemn upon leaving, she didn’t appear too bothered by what had transpired inside.

  “Your turn, Ani,” Essie said, shoving her towards the tent.

  Anya sucked in a breath, and despite the nagging feeling in her gut, entered the soothsayer’s lair, hoping for precious information about her beloved.

  Strange and foreign odors assaulted her nose, making her skin crawl and her hair stand on end. A tallow candle sat burning on the table the ancient woman sat at. Countless slips of paper lay crumpled around the stall.

  “Hurry—ain’t got all day.”

  Anya took a seat across from the soothsayer. Then, reality hit her, stealing her breath away.

  Perhaps she should be afraid. Chances were, the woman was from the Dusklands, a land rife with sorceries. Merchants like her weren’t often allowed to push their wares in the Heartlands, but laws and guards relaxed during The Dusk of Evening Sun.

  Don’t act like a child…

  “Yer name?”

  “Anya Tibalt, daughter to the village blacksmith.”

  “What is it ya want to know?” she croaked.

  Her mind went to Domeric, but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

  “It’s love, isn’t it?”

  “Pardon?”

  “It’s what all girls want to know. Who they will marry? How many younglings they’ll have? It’s what ya want, isn’t it?”

  Anya smiled at the hag, then downcast her eyes. “I am a maiden promised, and I already know who I will marry, but you are correct. I’d like to know more about my love and our future together.”

  “Gimme yer hand.”

  Anya didn’t want to give her anything. Something about the woman set her on edge.

  “Hurry now. Ole Gammy ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

  With great reluctance, Anya obeyed, closing her eyes as she did so, wanting the encounter to be over with. Almost immediately, she felt a bite.

  Anya opened her eyes to a pearl of blood on her fingertip. Aghast, she tried to grab her hand back, but the woman’s grip tightened.

  “What are you doing?” she gasped.

  “It’ll just take a second,” the hag said, setting the small blade she used to prick Anya aside.

  Anya watched in horror as the old woman pressed the blood from the pad of her finger into a bowl on the table, finally releasing her hand after collecting three drops.

  She wanted to run from the tent and be done with whatever wickedness was at play, but her curiosity got the better of her.

  The woman threw stones, feathers, and powders into the bowl, then lit the mixture on fire.

  Purple smoke danced, twisting into wolves howling, trees, a mountain, the moon, a ship, a pool of silver, sickness, a river of blood, horsemen riding…

  Then darkness descended upon the room like a heavy shroud.

  Anya held her breath, wanting to shrink away, afraid to draw attention to herself.

  And just when she thought she’d suffocate, the tallow candle came to life again, illuminating the soothsayer’s sickly face, turning her from vile to sinister.

  The hag squinted, her tongue ever moving.

  This is no true woman, Anya thought.

  The hag’s chin waggled like a heavy coin purse, one bigger than Lady Esther’s even.

  “Well, ain’t that interesting,” the soothsayer mulled.

  “Ain’t what interesting?” Anya asked, growing anxious.

  “And ye want this love o’ yers, aye?”

  “More than anything!”

  “And yer worried 'bout yer da, without yer ma around. Yer worried about him alone, aye?”

  Dread coiled in her gut like a snake. Anya had never met her mother as she had died during her birth. And it was true that she spent long hours worrying about her father and what would happen to him once she left, being alone and without a companion. But she hadn’t told the soothsayer those things, and they wouldn’t be easy to guess.

  “Some people ah easy ta read. Especially girls. They are given so few choices in life, ye see. But ya ain’t them. There’s a fork in da road fer ye.”


  “Oh,” was all she could say in return.

  “On the one path, ye marry a handsome lad, tall and able. A knight, gifted with a plot of land ta raise yer children upon. On the other, ye marry inta darkness.”

  Anya’s breath caught in her throat. Darkness?

  “Which will it be?” the hag asked.

  “I…I want to marry the handsome knight. I want to marry Domeric!”

  “Then ye don’t gots much time. Be at the Highland barn at the edge of the pastures. Ye won’t want to dawdle. If it’s a knight ye want, ye must be there before the dancing begins.”

  Panic seized Anya. It was daft to think being at that barn would have any effect on her life or whom she would marry, but the hag knew about her mother and her worries, which she had no business knowing. What if she was right?

  Anya tried to remember what time the dancing started, but it had been so long since the last harvest festival that she couldn’t be certain.

  “But…doesn’t it start soon?” she said frantically.

  “Then ye better hurry.”

  Anya sprinted from the tent without saying a word to her friends. She knew it was unwise to trust anyone suspected of being from the Dusklands, but it was better to be safe, and there was no way she wanted any part of marrying darkness. If the sayer was correct, she’d make it to the barn, and her destiny would fall into place. She’d marry Domeric, and her life would truly begin. Just as Essie’s had.

  And if it was all a sham, she’d have something to laugh about with her friends.

  Chapter

  Two

  ANYA

  Determined to make it to the barn and avoid a dastardly fate, Anya dashed through the festival toward the Highland fields, gasping for breath as stitches seized her side.

  The sun was still high, but the wind was picking up, causing her hair to break free from its ribbon. It had been over seven years since she had last been inside the barn, and seeing it filled her with dread.

  Why am I here? Anya asked herself, wanting to retreat to the festival. But she knew her reservations were silly. She’d simply go into the barn, stay for but a moment, then leave. That way, darkness could be avoided, and she’d have something to laugh about with her friends.

  Perhaps one day she’d even tell Domeric about her foolishness. He’d be amused, speaking in grand tones as he passed the story on to their children, and eventually, their children’s children.

  She walked towards the dilapidated building, determined to put the foolishness behind her so she could go back and join her friends. Inevitably, Domeric would ask her to dance. She had been rehearsing her gracious acceptance, but having worked up a sweat, she didn’t know if she wanted Domeric to see her this way, let alone press himself against her.

  Sunlight made it mere inches past the barn’s half-opened door, casting the interior in darkness. Standing at its entrance, she couldn’t help but feel as though she were being watched. That there was some sinister presence feeding on her fear.

  Don’t be silly. Everyone is at the festival, and you would be too if you weren’t so superstitious, she told herself, though her fear did not dissipate.

  A sudden chill startled her, causing goose prickles to rise on her arms. In some ways, she was still very much a child. Just like Eileen.

  “Hello?” she called, hoping to be met with silence.

  Her wish was granted, though she was no less afraid.

  A sour smell hung in the air, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t alone. That something was ready to pounce.

  Still, she forced herself to step further into the barn and stand at its center. She didn’t come all this way to leave anything to chance.

  Do I have to stay until the dancing begins or can I leave now that I’ve entered the barn? Surely, I’m not expected to stay here all night.

  A shuffling sounded from the corner, causing her heart to race.

  She squinted into the dark. “Wh-who’s there?”

  This is silly. It’s probably a mouse.

  “Come closer,” a man’s voice called.

  A strong urge to run overwhelmed her, but she was immobilized by fear. She squinted in the voice's direction, but could see nothing.

  “Please, I won’t hurt you. I need your help.”

  Anya swallowed, sucking in a deep breath. “Who are you?”

  “I’m someone who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and I just want to go home.”

  She blinked, trying to see through the darkness to no avail.

  “Open the barn door further, and you will see that I am just a man,” the voice said.

  Why do I care to see that he’s just a man? I should run, she told herself. Instead, her legs carried her to the door. She opened it the rest of the way, allowing sunlight to flood the far corners of the room.

  A man was kneeling in a cage, a mess of hay surrounding him. Dark of hair and bare-chested, with thick cords of muscle lining his arms, he didn’t look like any man she’d ever seen before. Unable to help herself, she walked further in to get a better look.

  “What are you doing in there?”

  “I’m here by mistake. I got a little drunk and acted rather foolish. I see that your hair is set nicely. If I could borrow one of your hairpins, I would be forever grateful.”

  No man should be caged in a barn. If he were suspected of a crime, he’d be at the town’s holding. She knew the lord overseeing Highland Manor. Cold, ardent, a staunch man of the law. Surely he would do no wrong. There must be good reason for the man’s imprisonment. Perhaps the lord was being summoned right now.

  He grabbed the bars, and Anya watched in awe as light danced across his muscled flank. He wasn’t at all refined or noble. He was primal. And oh, so beautiful in his savageness.

  She forced herself to look away.

  “Please, I don’t have much time,” he pleaded.

  “Are you worried you’ll be sent up the path?” she asked. “To face Judicium?”

  “No! I just need to get back to my family.”

  Anya sighed. “I’ll make sure the lord is made aware of your imprisonment, but I can do you no boon.”

  She turned to leave, but a growl stopped her in her tracks.

  Oh, no! What have I gotten myself into?

  Glowing green eyes stared at her from the entrance.

  “I’ve heard a few maidens have been mauled in the neighboring towns and villages. Release me, and I can help you!” the man pleaded. “I can protect you.”

  A huge, black beast stepped into the barn, teeth bared. It was a wolf, bigger than any she had ever seen before, and no doubt capable of tearing her flesh from her bones.

  “You haven’t much time! Give me a hairpin to open my cell door. I’m much larger than you and far more intimidating. A creature like that wants easy prey.”

  The beast snarled again, saliva dripping from its jaws. Essie’s words came to her: Maidens are being murdered.

  More likely set upon by this beast.

  With little choice, she knew she had to obey, hoping that the wolf would pick the large man as its meal over her.

  She made it to the cage, and the man plucked a hairpin from her hair, fit it into the lock, and popped it open. In a flash, he was free from his imprisonment, positioning himself between Anya and the wolf.

  “Come now, Dalla,” he said, and the wolf padded to his side, nuzzling his hand.

  Confusion washed over Anya. It was then that she realized just how foolish she was.

  She quietly stepped into a shadow, pressing herself against the wall. A pitchfork stood just a few feet away, but she wouldn’t be able to grab it in time, let alone wield it.

  The man turned to her and smiled, but there was no warmth to his grin. He was tall, his well-muscled chest telling a story of a life of labor. He was one part gorgeous, one part mysterious, and wholly dangerous.

  “Thank you for reuniting me with my pet,” he said, taking a step towards her. “Now I’m going to have to ask
you to take my place in the cage.”

  Anya’s heart stilled in her chest, and for a moment, she feared she would die of shock. She had been tricked, and now the man was looking to cage her like an animal, but she would have none of that.

  She darted towards the door, hoping to catch him off guard, but the man was swift and moved to block her path. Balling her hands into fists, she pounded on his chest, tears welling in her eyes.

  “No, no, no—let me go!” she begged, but in a moment he had her lifted over his shoulder.

  “Unhand me!” she demanded. He paid her no mind.

  What if he rapes me? What if he renders me unfit for marriage?

  Instead, he thrust her into the cell and locked her inside.

  “Please. I’ll tell no one of your escape. Just let me go.”

  “Can’t have you calling the guards on me,” he said, staring at her through the bars with eyes of silver so unique, she thought she was seeing things. “You're lucky, really, with all the dangers as of late. You'll be well enough until someone finds you.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Her eyes burned as waves of tears rushed down her cheeks. “Are you scared of getting sent up the path?”

  At that, he let out a melodious chuckle. “You think me fearful of exile? I'll have you know, it would take more than a cage and a couple of guards to get me up there.”

  He smirked, revealing a set of charming dimples. He was gorgeous, more so than any man ought to be. His high cheekbones gave way to a chiseled jawline. The tiniest divot enhanced his chin. Almost as a reflex, her hand snaked between the bars to his muscled chest. He tensed at her touch, grabbing her wrist and squeezing just enough to make her wince. Then, he reached for her hair, threading through the strands. Apparently, he found what he was looking for and plucked out her remaining hairpins.

  “In the Dusklands, redheads are said to hold great power.”

  She wasn’t surprised he was from such foul lands, but his handsomeness was indeed a shock. She’d always believed anyone hailing from the west would be gray of skin with fangs for teeth.

  “You'll not let me go, will you?” she whispered.