My Second Chance Mate is a Barbarian (Sera and Fenris) novel Chapter 199

Sera

Dungeon air always tastes of wet pennies and old piss. It’s a stagnant, heavy quality that stays in the back of my throat, making every breath an effort. I stood in the shadows of the corridor, my back pressed against the weeping stone masonry, and tracked the rhythm of my own pulse. It was slow. Methodical. Entirely too calm for a woman who had spent the last forty-eight hours orchestrating a murder and a magical identity theft.

I looked at my hands in the dim, flickering orange glow of a wall torch. They were clean, but my skin registered a phantom weight. I could still experience the exact moment I ordered Kael’s end. I could still hear the wet, heavy crack of his neck. In the span of a few weeks, I had stained myself with more blood than I thought existed in the world. Some of it I spilled with my own fists in the dirt ring. Most of it I spilled with my words.

The guilt was a dull ache, not a sharp one. That part scared me. I was becoming a version of a woman my father would recognize.

I hated that I had to be in this position. I hated the complexity of it. Every move felt like trying to navigate a minefield in the dark. If I killed Torin to get that Totem, I was effectively taunting a predator and assuming it wouldn't bite. King Aldric was a man who didn't understand the concept of "unintended consequences." He only understood results. If his envoy disappeared, he wouldn't send a letter asking for an explanation. He would send an army to find the body.

Killing Torin felt like a gamble I wasn't sure Ironmaw could win yet. The keep was still in transition. Bram was still getting used to Kael’s skin. The elders were quiet, but the air was still sour with their disappointment.

"Sign the paper, Torin," I said.

Fenris stepped forward, his shadow swallowing the smaller man. He reached into the folds of his cloak and pulled out a roll of heavy, yellowed parchment. He handed it to me. I held it out toward Torin.

"What... what is it?" Torin wheezed. He sounded like he was breathing through a handful of gravel.

"The official record," I stated. "You are signing as the designated delegate for Valdris. You are witnessing and sealing the marriage treaty. Your signature means the South acknowledges the union as legal and binding. It means my father cannot claim duress later."

Torin stared at the parchment. His fingers trembled so violently he could barely reach for it. "You're going to kill me anyway. The second I put my name to this, you’re going to let that bitch carve me open for your charm."

Yvara let out a short, raspy grunt of amusement. "The second you sign it, you become useful. Right now, you're just an annoyance with a loud mouth."

Torin looked at me, tears of raw panic starting to track through the blood on his face. "Please, Seraphina. You don't have to do this. You don't have to let them do this to me. Irina... she lied. She’s a snake. You know she’s a snake."

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