Page 15

15

Malice

We fly for hours—past the point of exhaustion, longer than any living creature should be able—and then we keep going. And all the while, the blizzard roars around us, the violent gusts of wind and ice threatening to send us off course or, worse, crashing to the ground.

I readjust my grip on Fenryr as a surge of air jolts my body to the side, so suddenly it nearly causes the limp body to slip from my fingers. My claws pierce his skin, latching onto the unconscious demon as I straighten out, angling my body back in the direction of the breeze.

Fenryr passed out two hours into the flight, and it has made navigation far more difficult. Though I am amazed at how long he was able to remain conscious in his grim state. I suppose it just goes to show how powerful of an influence the mate bond holds. How it can push the weakest of bodies onward—to fight, to protect, to claim.

I should know. It’s what kept me going in Kaebl’s dungeons after all.

A frown pinches my brow as I shake away those memories, needing to clear my mind and focus on the task at hand. If I’m not careful, I’ll miss it entirely, and all of this will be for nothing.

My flight muscles are seizing by the time I spot the clearing in the endless stretch of welwig forest. I tip my wings downward, my grip tightening around Fenryr as we shoot to the ground, the wind and ice whipping against my skin, freezing the tears of agony leaking from my eyes. I attempt to slow our descent just before we crash, but all my weakened muscles can manage is a pitiful flapping motion before Fenryr and I smack into the unforgiving ice.

I look at the skies, my eyes widening at the sight of Dagny floating to the ground, her face pinched and sweat dripping from her brow despite the effortless way she lowers herself and Kaebl to the ice. As soon as his body touches down, Dagny steps back, her face raised to the heavens as she sucks down heaving lungfuls of air, showing a hint of her fatigue for the first time since we began our journey.

I lie there for a few moments, knowing I should get up but bound in place by the stunning creature before me. Even though we just finished a four-hour flight through a raging blizzard, fearful and fleeing for our lives, Dagny seems calm—standing tall and proud just like the true goddess she is. The tips of her feathered wings rattle in the breeze, each barb encased in frost, glinting in the sunlight like millions of tiny diamonds. Her eyes shine with the same brilliant silver I witnessed in Slaine’s dungeon. The same energy that had the power to turn a castle to dust.

Magic . Pure and raw and unyielding. It lives in her, is drawn to her just as I am. And if she doesn’t learn how to control it very, very soon, it will destroy her.

“Look out beloooooooow!”

Dagny skitters toward the edge of the clearing, her face pinched in fright. As she dives behind one of the welwig trunks, my gaze snaps toward the jovial voice that caused her to flee, a spike of anger heating my veins.

My irritation turns to horror at the sight of a massive Roark-shaped mass barreling down from the skies, and without thinking, I grab Fenryr and roll, moving out of the way just before Roark slams into the ice, digging a horse-sized crater right where my head was.

My shock turns to rage as I turn my attention to Cyprien, floating weightlessly to the ground with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I shout. “What would possess you to just fucking drop him?”

Cyprien shrugs, his smile threatening to split his face. “He was heavy.”

Lir touches down beside his counterpart, his mouth pressed into a thin white line. “He’s lying. Roark said something to piss him off and his grip ‘slipped,’” Lir says, using air quotes around the last word.

Cyprien waves him off, turning his head in a slow arc as he searches the clearing. “The details don’t matter. Where’s my bunny?”

“Your wha—OOMPF!” The air is pushed from my lungs in a violent puff as Cyprien’s foot presses against my sternum, my ribs cracking beneath his full weight as he uses my chest as a springboard. I roll onto my side as the pain radiates, my vision tunneling, focusing on the angelic face peeking out from the tree trunk, at the twin silver orbs shining with distrust.

She blinks, and the apprehension on her face is wiped away, replaced with a smile born of moonlight, of euphoria. She steps out from the tree, her arms spread wide as she welcomes her mate.

Cyprien collides with her, knocking her backward off her feet and sailing through the open air. In a flash, Cyprien is wrapped around her, twisting sideways to protect her from the inevitable crash. As soon as they make impact, Cyprien rolls to his back, clutching the little one to his chest so tight, I’m fearful he might break her.

He pushes his face into her neck, his eyes rolling to the back of his skull as relief floods the bond, filling all of our veins. Soft sobs wrack his chest as he runs a shaking hand up her spine, feeling her as if for the very first time—as if he can’t quite believe she’s real.

A low whine echoes in Lir’s chest, and in the next moment, he’s there, thick, hot tears streaming down his face as he curls over Dagny and Cyprien. It’s such a profound sensation of solace that it warms my chest and fills the space where my heart should be.

Roark finally pushes to a sitting position, rubbing the part of his head that hit the ice the hardest. He blinks rapidly, his expression morphing from one of pure rage to an inexplicable longing, softening the corners of his eyes as an invisible thread tugs at the corner of his mouth.

He goes to her just as the others and is welcomed just as wholeheartedly. And I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help but look toward Kaebl. He’s frozen in place, golden eyes swirling with a torturous emotion as he watches the soul pieces reconnect with Dagny.

With great pain, he tears his gaze away from her and turns it to me. For the first time in my life, I think I feel sorry for you.

I shake my head with a scoff, though his words cause a throbbing ache to emanate from the deep cavern in my chest. “I don’t need your pity.”

No. I suppose you don’t. He turns his head slowly, focusing on the four embracing figures once more. Hers, then.

“Sure. But I’d rather have her heart.”

Kaebl nods, his eyes never leaving his would-be mate, never blinking. Hearts are strange things. If it beats and screams and aches, is it love? Or is it a disease? Affection or affliction? He shrugs, his gaze unmoving. Perhaps it’s both. Maybe it’s nothing. Perhaps it’s everything.

My throat tightens as I follow his line of sight, throbbing agony spreading from that hollow pit as I lay eyes on my mate.

There’s only one way to find out which it is.