Page 16 of Heart of Chaos (Chaosborn #1)

Chapter sixteen

Eisa

Keeping Arik and his impetuous kiss out of my mind proved to be a challenge. I tossed and turned most of the night, occasionally touching my lips, where the ghost of his kiss lingered.

Gods, Arik had kissed me. I wasn’t sure whether to be angry or just stunned stupid. Was it just part of his attempt to get me to choose him? Based on the fierceness of the moment—though granted, I had nothing to compare it to—and Baldur’s amusement after, I didn’t think so.

I’d tried to reach Baldur several hours later, and again throughout the day as Branka and I worked a shift in the kitchens. But whatever pathway had opened between us was closed to me now.

More strangely, Sigrid’s gem had pulsed warmly and steadily against my chest since the kiss. It seemed to respond to my emotions the same way it responded to Chaos, flaring hot every time I thought of that damned kiss.

I put my hand over the place it rested as we changed for bed, my mind having wandered to the library for the millionth time.

“Are you alright?” Branka asked, pinning me with a pointed look as I climbed into her bed. We had taken to talking late into the night, and Branka’s bed was easier to reach than mine. “All day you’ve been quiet and withdrawn. More than usual, anyway. Did something happen?”

“I’m fine,” I lied, wrapping my arms around my knees. The room was warm enough, but I felt strangely alone knowing Arik wasn’t in the mountain somewhere brooding.

Branka rolled her eyes. “You always say that, and it’s rarely true.”

I shrugged. “Probably just the Chaos.” It had been pulsing violently all day, and even now my head was giving off a low level throb of pain from time to time.

“Uh-huh.” Branka raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

I sighed. Coming up with a convincing lie felt monumentally difficult, and I was too exhausted to keep secrets. “Arik kissed me.”

“What?” she cried, leaning forward, her golden eyes intent on me. “When? How?”

“Lower your voice,” I hissed, glancing over to the other occupied beds to make sure no one was listening. Thyra was already snoring, and Brita hadn’t returned from dinner yet. “Last night in the library. Before he left.”

“Gods! Was it amazing?”

“It was…” I wasn’t sure how to describe the kiss. It had been my first as I’d actively avoided garnering men’s attention after Henrik’s drunken assault. It should have felt wrong, honestly, with how little experience I had, and how little I knew Arik.

But it hadn’t.

“It was fast,” I finished lamely, dropping my chin to my knees. “I think maybe it was an accident.”

“Men don’t accidentally kiss women, Eisa,” Branka snorted. “Did he somehow fall on your face and you caught him with your lips?”

I tossed a pillow at her, but she caught it neatly.

“You know what I mean,” I whispered. “He panicked. He’s likely going to miss the Rifting.”

Branka frowned, hugging the pillow to her chest. “What are you going to do?” She asked seriously. “About Baldur?”

“I have no idea,” I sighed. Before yesterday, I had been sure I’d choose no dragon to bond with.

Now, though…

A pounding at the door interrupted my train of thought and made me wince. Branka gave me an alarmed look, so I threw one of the furs over my shoulders as whoever it was pounded a second time, then went to answer it.

I opened the door to an older man looking down at me. Based on the lines in his face and his grizzled beard and hair, he was older than Arik, though not as old as Einar. One of the other reirleders, perhaps? “Are you Eisa?”

His eyes were cold as he waited for my answer, and I nodded mutely, uncertain what he wanted.

“You’ve been summoned. Follow me.”

“Summoned by who?” Branka cut in, padding over to me and grabbing my hand to stop me as I moved obediently to follow. It was like a strange reflex, this shutting down and following of orders given by a strange man, and I shot her a grateful look for asking the question I couldn’t bring myself to voice.

“The Dragehersker,” he replied gruffly, grabbing me by the elbow. “Let’s go.”

“She’s not even dressed!”

“It’s fine,” I murmured to Branka, slipping on my boots and giving her hand a squeeze. I pulled the fur more closely around my shoulders and nodded to the man. “Lead the way.”

I looked back to find Branka biting her lip anxiously from the doorway.

I was jostled by several bodies as we emerged into the busy smokestack, wincing as a sharp elbow caught me in the rib. That would be another bruise, and I wrapped my hand around the spot to protect it from the rest of the crowd.

Finally we made it to the relative calm of the upward sloping path, where the man began marching at a brutal pace. I had to jog every other step to keep up with his long stride, and I could feel a stitch growing in my side by the time he finally stopped.

“In there,” the man said, nodding to a pair of heavy wooden doors. He turned and strode off without even looking back to check that I’d gone through. I supposed Einar assumed me to be obedient enough that he didn’t need me watched, which worked in my favor for the time being.

I knocked, uncertain of the proper procedure.

“Enter.”

The door was heavy, made of thick wood with iron bolts, and I had to push with most of my strength to get it open.

Einar stood over his wooden desk examining what appeared to be maps spread across it. His eyes met mine with an icy cruelty that made me shiver as I stood in the open doorway. I pulled the fur more tightly around me, uncomfortably aware that I wore only a thin nightgown beneath it.

“Close the door,” Einar commanded, waving to a high-backed wooden chair before the desk. “And take a seat.”

It was obvious from the state of his office that Einar was a man of function over comfort. Everything was made of solid wood or stone without anything in the way of ornamentation other than the swords and axes adorning the walls. A fur rug on the ground was the only thing that softened the room, the fireplace cold and empty despite the fact that it was near freezing in this part of the fortress.

I tried to stifle the chattering of my teeth as I waited for the Dragehersker to speak first.

“I thought we should have a chat,” Einar said, going to a side table and removing two glasses and a decanter of amber liquid from a cabinet. “About what to expect during the Rifting.”

I nodded mutely, watching as he poured the amber liquid into both glasses and placed one on the desk before me.

I looked up, and his eyes were so cold I had to look away.

“Drink,” he commanded, moving around the desk to sit. I had never been so grateful for the presence of a block of wood as he drained his glass in one mouthful, thumping the glass back on the table before looking at me expectantly.

I took a sip of the liquid, which burned and made me cough going down.

Einar sneered derisively. “Typical woman. Can’t handle her liquor.”

“Many of your drage are women,” I pointed out, realizing too late that I should keep my mouth shut. I stiffened as he cut me a cold stare, but he didn’t reply as he steepled his fingers on the desk.

“When the Rifting begins,” he said, his eyes like chips of ice as he held my gaze, “you will have only minutes to bond a dragon successfully.”

I nodded. Jorgen had told me this, but I was able to hold my tongue and act like this was new information. I’d learned years ago that men preferred this.

Not Arik .

The thought swam across my mind so rapidly and firmly, I thought it might have come from Baldur. I blinked, working to keep my face from betraying the strange connection.

As far as I knew, drage could only speak to their bonded dragons. Arik had seemed shocked—even angry—when I had done it, and some instinct told me it was a skill I should keep to myself.

Especially from the Dragehersker.

“The Chaos will feel overwhelming,” Einar continued, seemingly unaware of my internal monologue, “but it is vital that you push through it to find Ragnar’s mate.”

I frowned, pretending not to recognize the name.

Einar narrowed his eyes. “Do not insult me by pretending Arik hasn’t told you the name of my bonded dragon. Or that he hasn’t already asked you to bond Baldur’s mate.”

I didn’t reply, but Einar seemed to take my silence as confirmation. “Bonding Ragnar’s mate will be the best option, for both you and the drage. I want your word, Eisa, that you will do so.”

The way he said my name made my stomach turn, and not in the same way it did when Arik used it.

I swallowed, trying to decide how to reply. Arik had asked me to fight him—to promise that I wouldn’t bond with Ragnar’s mate. And while I hadn’t replied in words, I had felt myself accept the moment his lips touched mine.

I cast my eyes to the ground, a diversion I hoped would disguise the fact that I hadn’t agreed. “How will I know which dragon is Ragnar’s mate?”

Einar waved me off, sitting back in his chair. I chanced a look up and read a satisfied smirk on his face. “She will find you. Your only job is to accept her. Your word, Eisa?”

I swallowed. I was annoyed that no one seemed able to answer this simple question, but I needed to be smart and careful. I didn’t doubt Einar would lock me in his rooms if he thought it would serve his purposes.

Sigrid’s necklace flared to life, heating beneath my nightgown in warning.

“I am not a patient man,” Einar said, standing and walking around the desk. “When I want something, I have it. Or else I find a way to get it and punish those who get in my way.”

I gripped the arms of the chair so tightly my knuckles turned white as he came to stand before me and grabbed my chin in a bruising grip. I was sure there would be marks in the shape of his fingers the way he wrenched my face up to meet his gaze.

“You will give me your word, or I will make sure your little whore friend—what is her name? Branka, isn’t it?”

Cold dread swept through me. Of course he knew who I was close to. I had been too stupidly obvious with my affection. Just like Henrik, Einar had learned to hit me where it would hurt the most.

“I will make sure she wishes she could return to that stinking brothel where Jorgen found her. Do you understand?”

I felt a furious tear leak down my cheek, both at the pain of his grip and my fury at his threat. Anger flooded through me, almost a palpable thing.

I couldn’t move, too restricted by Einar’s grip. I felt my jaw click ominously as he squeezed. “There are much worse things than death in this place, Eisa. I can make sure every person you care about faces them. Now give me your word that you will bond Ragnar’s mate.”

I nodded, the movement barely there, but enough to satisfy Einar. He released my jaw roughly, and I lifted my hand to massage it as another tear escaped.

I hated that I’d let him see me cry. It was my fury I wanted him to see. It filled me with a fire that felt like it might ignite my bones if I let it. One more spark, and it could explode.

“Good,” he replied, moving back around to his side of the desk. He didn’t seem to notice my stifled rage as he poured himself another glass. “As long as we understand each other, we’ll get along fine.”

I said nothing as he turned around to meet my eyes. Nothing, as I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms, the only outlet for the fury building in me.

Sigrid’s gem flared with heat once more, and I had to resist the urge to cover its hiding place with my palm.

“You’re dismissed.”

I felt something in me crack.

And then the ground rumbled. Einar frowned, his eyes going distant in an expression I recognized as a drage speaking to his dragon.

“Impossible,” he murmured, placing a hand against the stone wall to steady himself as the whole mountain shook.

Whatever force had awoken inside me was answered by something ancient and powerful and cruel, and I reflexively covered my head as the mountain shook hard enough that dust fell from the stone ceiling.

Warmth dribbled over my lips, and I tasted copper as the pounding of Chaos took up residence in my skull, louder than the rumbling of the mountain.

I was in too much pain to see Einar move. He gripped my arm and dragged me out of my seat, sneering at the sight of the blood soaking my linen shift. “Let’s go.”

“What’s happening?” I asked, my fury at the Dragehersker supplanted by the pain of Chaos as it ricocheted through me and the terror that I had somehow cracked the world wide open.

Not the world.

The Rift.

“The Rifting.” He offered no other explanation as he pulled me out of his office and down the smokestack. Loud shouts sounded from the bowl below us as several drage took to the sky, the smaller bronze and gold dragons making for the exit above as others ran toward the lower levels.

“I thought it wasn’t for several days.”

“It wasn’t.” Einar pulled me along roughly, and I thought he might pull my arm from its socket if I didn’t manage to keep up with him.

I was too out of breath and terrified to ask about Branka or the other Chaosborn. Presumably some other dragons would be tasked with ferrying them like Arik’s reirhold had, and my gut twisted at the thought of Branka. Part of me hoped she made it, and part of me hoped she stayed safely in the fortress and missed the Rifting entirely.

A series of twisting tunnels led to doors like the one to Arik’s chamber, and he pushed me through roughly as he began to remove his shirt.

I didn’t have time to protest as Einar transformed, the scales and wings of a massive mottled white dragon emerging from his flesh, its hide more torn and scarred and far less luminescent than Baldur’s.

He also wasn’t as large, but Ragnar’s yellow eyes were ferocious and cruel as he snapped his jaws at me in a clear order to mount. When I didn’t immediately obey, he roared violently, triggering the door to the brutal wind and snow beyond with a claw and snapping at me again.

I clenched my jaw and obeyed, climbing up his massive foreclaw over scales that were rougher and more cracked than Baldur’s. This dragon was clearly older and not as well cared for, his scales a dull off-white with sickly gray patches.

I scrambled onto his back where his neck met his wings, and he was moving before I had fully found a seat.

Fuck Einar and his demands. Arik had promised me his protection if I chose Baldur. And if everyone was right about how powerful Baldur’s mate was, I could protect Branka myself. I could be powerful for the first time in my life.

And I would burn Einar alive if he touched anyone I loved.

I closed my eyes tight against the freezing wind as I shot a single thought out into the darkness, searching for that elusive bridge between us.

Silver arced across my mind, and I shouted into the void, I accept.