Page 2 of Heart of Chaos (Chaosborn #1)

Chapter two

Eisa

I staggered away from the man as he looked down, eyes steely as he seemed to take in every inch of me.

Power radiated from him, an otherworldly aura that made my blood heat and freeze in rapid succession. For a split second, his gray eyes flashed silver, his pupils elongating to draconic slits.

I took another panicked step back, the tavern still eerily quiet.

“A table,” came the voice of a woman behind him, commanding and smooth as a queen’s. Her blond hair—warmer and more golden than the man’s—was braided intricately down her back, showing off similarly tapered ears, and her form was that of a warrior, her leather armor a match for the man’s. “And ale for two. And you can all stop staring.”

The last words were meant for the other patrons, and chatter slowly resumed, although far more hushed and stilted than it had been before the two drage entered.

I nodded, gesturing wordlessly to the nearest empty table and hurrying to the bar to fetch the requested ale. My voice and all of my courage seemed to have disappeared into the pit of my stomach.

“Eisa,” Anders hissed as I filled two pints. He was hopping from foot to foot, his eyes wide with excitement. “Why are the drage here?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered back, watching the two drage as they settled themselves at the table and piled several deadly-looking weapons on the sticky surface.

“They don’t usually leave Ironholm. Do you think they’re here for someone?” Anders pressed. “My ma once told me they only go out when they’re hunting people like them . Ones who can bond a dragon! Do you think they’re here to save us?”

“No. Stay away from them.”

“But they have dragons, Eisa!” Anders insisted, his voice full of awe. “Dragons! And they pay you if they recruit you. My ma used to talk about what we’d do with the money with Da.”

“Your ma and da sold you,” I reminded him sternly. “You shouldn’t trust anything they ever told you.”

Anders shrugged this off. He didn’t like to be reminded that he’d been the cost for his family to eat. “I could free you and Sigrid. We could all be free, Eisa.”

“Enough,” I whispered, giving Anders my most serious, motherly look. “People die on Ironholm, Anders. They don’t come back when they’re taken. There’s no glory in death.”

Anders scowled. “There’s glory in protecting the kingdom from the odemarksdyr.”

I pursed my lips to hide my panic.

Stories of the drage floated along the roads and waysides every so often. Stories of them taking young men and women and leaving a sack of gold, only for their families never to see them again. It wasn’t just the poor. The king’s eldest son had been taken twenty years ago, and no one had seen or heard from him since.

The drage might be the only thing standing between Stalheim and the frozen nightmares of the south, but Anders wasn’t about to throw his life away to be one of them.

Life here wasn’t good, but at least it was a life .

“We need you here , Anders,“ I insisted. “If you go near them, I swear to all the gods I will make you muck out the donkey’s pen for the next month.”

Anders deflated, and I pressed my forehead to his. “We’ll find another way out of our contracts. Real freedom. I promise.”

He nodded glumly as I filled a tray and picked my way back through the crowded tavern, trying to take in details of the pair without drawing their attention. Their armor was fashioned to resemble scales, beautiful and brutal with overlapping tapered points. They spoke with their heads bowed low together, eyes occasionally darting around the room.

The man’s silver gaze landed on me more than once.

“Ale,” I croaked, my throat thick as I placed the glasses on the table.

The woman nodded her thanks and gave me a warm smile that showed slightly elongated canines. “For your trouble,” she said, sliding something metallic across the table.

I stared unmoving. It was a gold coin, worth at least a year of my contract. If Henrik found it, he’d beat me bloody for keeping it. And why would they give me so much?

“It won’t bite,” the man said as I continued to stare at the shining metal. I met eyes like gray steel that flashed silver again as he frowned at my swollen lip. “Take it.”

I swallowed and reached for the coin, determined to hide it before Henrik could take it from me, but the man caught my wrist before I could pull away.

His voice was gravel and fury. “You’re bleeding.” He reached out to touch my swollen lip, and I flinched back. His silver eyes widened as he lifted my blood to his lips, then narrowed to slits again as he stared at me with calculating coldness.

A large, familiar hand grabbed my shoulder with bruising force and pulled me back from the table. “Get back to work, you lazy bitch.”

In a move that was far too fast for my human eyes to track, the man had Henrik pinned against the nearest wall by his throat in a heavily tattooed fist.

The tavern erupted in cries of panic, many diving under tables or fleeing entirely lest the drage’s rage be turned on them. But the man’s face was completely calm as if only he and Henrik were present. The muscles in his neck barely strained as he lifted Henrik higher up the wall.

The woman was standing now, eyes of golden-brown blazing as her pupils stretched to slits. “Baldur!” Her voice was both human and not, young and old and near and far.

The man tightened his fist around Henrik’s throat, his face stony as he choked the life out of my master.

“Enough, Baldur,” the woman snapped again in that strange voice. “You’ll kill him.”

“That’s the idea,” the man—Baldur—replied, his voice just as inhuman as the woman’s had been.

Henrik burbled ominously, his face going from red to purple as Baldur finally let him go to slide down the wall. He fell to the floor gasping and clutching at his throat as the drage loomed over him.

“Is she alright, Revna?” Baldur rumbled.

Revna lifted me from the floor as if I weighed nothing and pressed me into a chair, her eyes and voice both human once more as she replied, “She’s fine. You’re fine, aren’t you?” She looked down at me, a single brow raised as if in appraisal.

I nodded, and as if he could feel my acquiescence, Baldur stepped back from Henrik. Part of me felt relieved not to witness a murder, but a darker part of me was disappointed that Henrik still breathed. He had recovered enough to croak out a string of curses at the drage as he stood and rubbed his throat. I was pleased to see it was as swollen as my lip. “Get out of my tavern.”

“We’re here on crown business,” Baldur said, as calmly as if he hadn’t just nearly killed Henrik. His voice had changed like Revna’s—back to a normal human timbre. He pulled five silver coins from the sac at his hip and threw them at Henrik’s feet. “For the trouble.”

“Fucking drage,” Henrik huffed, gathering up the coins with a spiteful glare at the drage as if he hadn’t nearly been killed by them. He turned his fury on me. “Get back to the bar.”

“She stays,” Baldur replied, nodding to Revna as each flanked me.

I was too shocked and confused to argue, but Henrik had recovered and reached out to grab for me.

Baldur stopped him with a hand, and I heard a snap.

Henrik howled and backed away, his wrist hanging at an odd angle. “She’s my indenture,” he spat, face purpling once more as tears leaked from his eyes. “My property.”

Baldur crossed his arms and stared him down, still and calm as a stone statue. “Leave, before I break your neck next.”

Henrik paled, shooting me a look that promised violence later as he stormed back to the bar. Anders fled to the kitchens, eyes wide as he mouthed, “Be careful.”

“Gods, you’re shaking,” Revna said, sitting next to me as Baldur righted the table. Most of the other customers had fled in their panic, but the two drage either didn’t care or didn’t notice.

“I’m fine,” I protested, trying to stand. I wanted to be as far away from these people as possible, and I knew that Henrik would take out his fury on me when they finally left. Perhaps I could hide until morning and hope he got so deep in his cups he’d forget.

“Sit down,” Baldur commanded as he took the chair across from me. “You’ll make a scene.”

“I’m not the one who nearly killed a man in a crowded tavern.” The words came out before I had a chance to think about them, and I covered my mouth in horror. This was a drage. I’d just seen him nearly strangle Henrik and snap his wrist like a twig. He could kill me a hundred different ways. Have his dragon eat me. Do anything with the blessing of the king and crown.

But he didn’t strike. Didn’t admonish me or even redden in anger. Instead, Baldur’s lip twitched beneath his beard as he sat and studied me. Was he…amused? He didn’t tear his eyes from mine as he handed me a grubby napkin, the tattoos across his knuckles seeming to shift in the light. “You’re still bleeding.”

I took the napkin and held it to my lip as he turned to Revna. “How much gold do we have left?”

“Enough,” Revna replied, frowning at her partner. “Why?”

“It’s her.”

Revna’s eyes widened, then narrowed as she scrutinized me skeptically. “Are you sure?”

“Ask Kindra.”

Revna’s eyes shifted to slitted pupils again as she leaned toward me. My temples throbbed painfully, and she blinked in surprise.

“Told you,” Baldur said, still studying me intently.

Whatever this was, I’d had enough of it. I needed to check on Anders and get Sigrid safely tucked away for the night, then find a place to hide from Henrik. I tried to rise on shaky legs. “Look, I’m sorry for the trouble but—“

The woman pulled me gently but firmly back into the seat. “We’ll test her.”

“I just did,” Baldur argued. He leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking ominously under what must be two-hundred pounds of muscle. “Baldur is certain.”

I frowned, distracted momentarily by confusion. I thought he was Baldur.

The woman rolled her eyes, not at all cowed by Not-Baldur’s glower. “What’s your name?” She smiled gently at my wide eyes and scared expression, like I was a frightened rabbit she was trying to get back in its cage. “We won’t hurt you, I promise. I just need to verify something.”

“Verify what?” I asked, my mouth feeling like I’d swallowed sand.

“Your name,” she pressed. “And then I’ll explain.”

“Eisa. I’m Eisa.”

Not-Baldur made a noise like a growl, his eyes shifting to slits and then back again.

The woman raised her brows at him, but didn’t comment. “Eisa. That’s lovely. I’m Revna, and this,” she gestured to the man, “is Arik. And I want to verify that you are one of us.”

I felt myself go even paler than usual, blood draining away from everywhere that didn’t need to prepare to run.

“No,” I said, shaking my head and trying to melt into the wall. “I’m not drage. My parents were human.”

Revna glanced at Arik, who rolled his eyes and growled in impatience as he grabbed the napkin from me and handed it to Revna. “Here.”

“Hey!”

“That’s been stitched.” He gestured to my swollen lip, and the trickle of blood I could feel sliding down my chin. He handed me a different napkin while Revna fumbled with a box of matches. “Why is it still bleeding?”

“I bleed easily,” I replied, dabbing away the blood and trying to stand. “I should go.”

“Please, Eisa,” Revna said, putting a gentle hand on my wrist. I flinched, and she immediately removed it. “Look. Human blood doesn’t burn,” she explained, lighting a match and holding it to the cloth. “Too much water. But the blood of the drage…”

She paused as the match touched the red on the white cloth. Nothing happened, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

But then a blue flame sprang to life, flickering as if my blood were the wick of a candle.

“Drage blood burns,” Revna said, looking both surprised and a little awed. She looked up at Arik, who didn’t look at all surprised. “Blue?”

“Told you.”

Revna frowned and doused the napkin in one of the near-empty glasses of water.

“What does that mean?” I asked, looking between the drage, who seemed to have a silent conversation with only their eyes.

“She might not bond,” Revna said, returning the matchbox to her pocket and frowning at my still-bleeding lip as I held the napkin to it.

“She will,” Arik said, his gaze still intent upon mine. “Baldur is sure of it.”

“She’s too—“

“She’s not.” He rose from the table and stretched, leather creaking as he expanded his massive chest with the movement. “We should have enough to buy out her contract.”

“You what?” I spluttered. “No!”

“Eisa—“ Revna tried.

“Let me go, please,” I begged, trying to push past Revna, who was like a brick wall on the bench next to me. “This is a mistake.”

My headache had returned worse than before, and the room had begun to spin a slow rotation as I blinked back spots.

“Let her go, Rev,” Arik commanded. “She’s going to pass out.”

“No, I’m fine,” I lied as Revna finally moved and I scooted out of the booth. “I’m not going to…”

The world tipped sideways as I fell into strong arms and let darkness claim me.