Page 23 of Heart of Chaos (Chaosborn #1)

Chapter twenty-three

Eisa

Sigrid’s gem thrummed against my chest in time with my heartbeat as I watched Arik walk away.

Why do you deny yourself? Idunn asked.

I sighed. Her straightforward questions and insights into my feelings were unsettling. I’d lived my life hiding my feelings from everyone but Sigrid, and perhaps Branka. Now, a dragon was privy to every one of them, and I was certain she told Baldur, who in turn informed Arik of every tiny change in my mood.

It’s complicated, dearest, I replied, scratching her brow ridges in my mind. Like my love for you. It’s not a straightforward thing.

How is your love for me complicated?

I smiled. She was both eternally wise in her understanding of the universe, but endlessly naive when it came to humans. Because I barely know you, yet I love you fiercely. That makes little sense to me.

And the same is not true for the man?

The opposite. I tried to project my feelings and memories as I spoke, which she seemed to understand better than simple human language. I’ve known him longer, but I know him less. Does that make sense?

No. She stretched her claws, completely certain in her own draconic logic. If you want the man, take him. Time is irrelevant.

You’re several millennia old, I pointed out. I am not.

Even more reason that it is irrelevant.

I rolled my eyes, turning my attention to the raised dais where Einar stood with two other drage. Likely reirleders, by the appearance of their weapons and armor. They were older than Arik, though not as old as Einar, and they scowled as he approached them.

It struck me how absolutely impossible he was to compare to any of them. His features were strong and solid and proud—even his scars added to his beauty.

It was truly unfair.

Einar raised his hands, and the crowd became quiet.

“This hearing is called to account for the crimes of one of our own,” he announced, his eyes sharp as he tried to look down at Arik. This was difficult as Arik stood several inches taller than all three men on the dais. “To the charge of disobeying direct orders from your Dragehersker, how do you plead?”

“Guilty,” Arik said in a loud, clear voice that carried over the crowd.

“What in the name of the Hearthmother is he doing?” I hissed to Jorgen as other mutterings broke out among the crowd.

“Trying to prevent the rest of us from joining him up there,” he murmured back.

“And to the charge of attacking two of your fellow reirleders?”

“Guilty,” Arik repeated. More murmuring ensued, and one of the older reirleders on the dais spat at Arik’s feet.

“And to the charge of willfully attacking your Dragehersker?”

“That was in defense of my mate,” Arik replied loudly. The word sent a thrill through me, but I tamped it down. “Dragon law permits such defense.”

The crowd was utterly still now, as if waiting to see how Einar would respond to this counter-accusation.

He seemed unphased though as he pulled a leather handle from his belt.

“For the two charges against you and your reirhold, then, the punishment is set at ten lashes apiece. Bring your reirhold forward.”

I felt Jorgen stiffen beside me as he shifted his body to stand between Branka and the dais.

“I would ask to take their punishment upon myself,” Arik replied, looking straight ahead. “They disobeyed you on my orders alone. I will take their sentences.”

“You have nine members of your reirhold now, I believe, including the new mates ?“ He spat the word with contempt, casting his eyes toward me and Branka.

“Ninety lashes?” I hissed in dismay as Idunn thrashed restlessly.

“Fucking prick. The two of you shouldn’t count,” Jorgen muttered. He looked down at me, and my face must have given away my horror. “He’ll survive it, Eisa. Baldur’s magic will keep him alive. But he won’t enjoy it.”

On the dais, Arik replied, “I do,” as he began to strip off his leather tunic and shirt, baring his tattooed chest to the crowd.

I felt horror clench me tightly as he knelt before the bloody pole. He allowed one of the other reirleders to tie his hands in place as Einar lifted the whip.

No! Idunn’s voice whipped through me, and I felt myself take a step forward without willing it.

“No, Eisa,” Jorgen warned, gently grabbing my wrist and pulling me back toward him. Branka took my other hand and held it tightly as if afraid she would lose her grip. “He’ll be fine. You have to trust him.”

That is my mate, Idunn rumbled, and I could swear the words left my lips as the crowd turned toward me.

Revna had moved to join us, along with two other drage I didn’t know, although I recognized them from the day we went to the Rift. Members of Arik’s reirhold.

“Easy, Eisa. Take a breath,” Revna commanded as the whip cracked down a second time. She took Branka’s place holding my arm as Jorgen maneuvered her away from me.

Idunn raged at their grip. Make them let me go! she commanded.

We will be alright, Kj?re. Baldur’s voice filtered into my head, steady as the tide that beat against the rocks. He called Idunn the same nickname Arik had begun to call me, and I realized suddenly what the word meant in the shifter tongue.

Mate.

“Gods, Eisa, your eyes,” Revna hissed, squeezing my wrist almost painfully. “He’s fine. Keep her under control or it will be a bloodbath.”

For the first time since I’d met her, Revna looked scared.

Look at me, Eisa. It was Arik, and I obeyed, my eyes snapping to his as the whip cracked again. This will not break me. There will be consequences if you kill Einar now. When it is time, I will let you tear him limb from limb. But that is not today.

I nodded, clenching my jaw as the whip fell again and again. I grew oddly numb as Revna and Jorgen held me fast, Idunn thrashing angrily in my head. I tried my best to soothe her while I watched Arik take every single lash.

Both of the older reirleders took turns as well, and Einar stepped back to watch with a cruel smile curving his lips, his leathers splattered in Arik’s blood.

It took over an hour, and I wasn’t sure if it was his drage healing or pure stubbornness, but Arik made not a single cry of protest or pain throughout. He held my gaze most of the time, his voice in my head growing slightly weaker with each strike as he reminded me that now was not the time to fight. That he would heal. That he was fine and that this was nothing.

While I couldn’t feel the lashes, there was a sense of pain—an odd echo of agony in my body that Idunn transmitted through our bond. The sound of the whip cracking against Arik’s broken body with every strike was like a physical blow to my gut, and I felt tears streaming down my face, cold against my overheated skin. By the time it was done, my soul felt as raw as if I had been the one under the whip with him, and Idunn was howling in misery in a corner of my mind, desperate to reach Baldur.

“We’re done here,” Einar snarled as the final lash failed to earn a response from Arik. He turned to the crowd at large, who watched silently as blood dripped down the wooden pole and Arik’s bloody back. I couldn’t see the damage, but I could feel he was in pain. “No one will help him up until the blood has dried.”

The crowd began to move, a few murmuring discontentedly or speaking in hushed whispers. I couldn’t tell whose side most of the drage were on, but I suspected that Jorgen had been right about Arik earning their respect.

I stood still until Einar and the other reirleders had departed and the crowd cleared enough to move.

As soon as Jorgen and Revna released me, I ran.

“Arik,” I breathed as I knelt beside him and saw the full extent of the damage. I was nearly sick right there next to him, and I had to swallow bile as the white edge of bone peeked out beneath the ravaged layers of skin and muscle. “Gods, how are you still alive?”

A sheen of sweat dotted his brow, and his skin was pale as he let his head rest against the wooden pillar, his eyes shut against the pain. “Just…stubborn…like that.” His words were labored, and I cursed as I hovered over him, unsure what to do.

“I’ll get something to help,” Revna said, gripping my shoulder. “Stay with him, but don’t help him up.”

I nodded, hardly aware of anything but the bloody man before me and the tears that still fell from my eyes.

“Is Baldur alright?” I asked, hoping to coax Idunn out of her frenzied panic. I wiped my face angrily, trying to focus on the rage rather than the phantom pain.

“Resting,” Arik replied. “The healing…takes a lot.”

I frowned, looking at Arik’s back again. It certainly didn’t look like any healing was going on, but his wounds were deep.

I can help, Idunn said, slinking out of her corner. I can spare some magic.

How? I asked, relieved that there was something I could do rather than just sit helplessly next to him. What do I do?

Put your hand on him. I will do the rest.

I hesitated, almost unable to find a place that hadn’t been marked by the stroke of the whip. I settled for the front of his shoulder, adjusting my body so I was facing him.

“Don’t,” he protested as I felt heat searing through my arm. “I’m fine.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” I hissed, my teeth clenched as the strange, sucking pain of what must be magic flowed out of me and into him. I felt Sigrid’s gem flare hot against my stomach, and I hissed as it burned my skin. “Idunn says this will help.”

“She needs rest,” he argued, shaking his head against the pillar. “You’re still recovering.”

“We’ll be fine,” I insisted, having no real idea if it was true. Every second felt like my own life was draining into Arik, but I held my hand steady until Revna gently pried me off him. The gem cooled instantly as I slumped against the pole next to Arik.

“Gods-damned stubborn mates,” she hissed. “Look at the state of you both.”

I hadn’t felt the trickle of blood as it seeped from my nose, and I lifted a hand to try to staunch its progress.

Idunn? I asked in panic.

Tired, she replied with a yawn. You are hurt. Something burns.

I breathed a sigh of relief but couldn’t explain as Revna handed me a wet cloth. “Clean the wounds. He likely won’t let anyone else touch him like this. Newly mated drage can be vicious when they’re injured, and I’d like to keep both of my hands.”

I nodded, rallying my strength as I rose and pressed the cloth to his back. Some of the muscle had visibly knit together, and I gave Idunn a tender pat in thanks.

Arik hissed as I cleaned the deep cuts, but he didn’t protest when Revna instructed me to slather some kind of salve over the open wounds.

“It’s mostly yarrow and honey with a bit of arnica,” Revna said as I wrinkled my nose at the sickly sweet smell. I gently smeared it across Arik’s back, which was more raw meat than solid flesh still. “No idea why it works, but it does. It won’t do much to prevent scarring, but it will help keep the wounds clean as they close.”

Still with me? I asked in Arik’s head.

It took a long time for him to reply as I continued to tend his wounds. Always, Kj?re.

“Last step,” Revna said, handing me rolls of linen cloth. “Bind his chest and back with these. He’ll have to sleep on his stomach for a few nights, but it won’t be the first time.”

“How often does this happen?” I asked, trying not to touch too much of Arik’s bare chest as I began to wrap the bandage around him. His skin was colder than usual, and I tried to prod Baldur to make sure he was alright. I got an angry flip of a tail, which I supposed would have to suffice.

“To Arik? Probably once a year,” Jorgen cut in. He and Branka had stayed with me throughout, but Branka looked like she was ready to be violently and thoroughly sick. “I’m going to take Branka back, if you can manage without us, Rev.”

I felt her nod beside me as I continued to wrap the bandages. Blood seeped through in places, but there wasn’t much to be done about it other than to try to pull the linen tightly.

“Trying to suffocate me?” Arik murmured as I made a few final passes for good measure.

“I don’t think you need my help with torture,” I replied dryly. “You’ve got that handled all on your own.”

Kj?re. I met his gaze, his silver eyes a dull gray with exhaustion and pain. I’m alright. You’ll protect me.

My laugh came out as half a sob, and I let myself give in to the exhaustion and sadness a little, dropping my forehead gently onto the uninjured part of his shoulder. I felt Arik turn his face slightly so his bristly beard scratched my cheek, the whisper of a kiss over my temple.

We sat like that for a long time. Revna kept watch, occasionally humming tunes to songs I had never heard before, and Arik drifted off at one point. Idunn and Baldur were both quiet, and I felt like I’d just run from one side of the Odemark to the other.

“Get up,” Einar ordered. I blinked awake as Revna shook me gently.

“Sir,” Arik grunted as Revna moved to untie his hands. I stood shakily, taking a step back from Einar’s cold eyes.

“Too long have you willfully disobeyed me without consequence,” he growled, glaring at Arik as Revna helped him stand. “Your reirhold is henceforth dissolved. You are dismissed as my second and as reirleder for the drage. You and your mate, “ he spat the word like it tasted foul, “will report to Tormund’s reirhold. Do you understand?”

Arik nodded tightly, and I could feel Idunn’s fury bubbling alongside Baldur’s.

“Sir—“ Revna began.

“I am not speaking to you!” Einar snarled, scowling at Revna. She closed her mouth, but her eyes remained hard and defiant.

“The rest of your reirhold will be reassigned to reirleders I can trust, “ Einar continued. “If any member of your reirhold fails to follow orders—if you so much as think of crossing me or disobeying a direct command—then I shall cast you and your mate to the bottom of the Rift and damn the consequences when your father finds out. Am I understood?”

I blinked, suddenly confused. Who was his father?

Arik’s voice was strained as he replied, “I bow to your will, Dragehersker.”

Einar sneered, shooting a look at me. “Now get the fuck out of my sight.” He strode away without a backward look, and Arik slumped to the ground.

Revna swore, catching him before his head hit the stone.

“Gods, he’s fucking heavy. Help me.”

I slipped under Arik’s other arm, trying to carry as much of his weight as I could.

“Who is Arik’s father?” I asked, the words coming out in gasps as I struggled with Arik’s weight.

“What are you talking about?” Revna asked, hauling him step by step back down the smokestack.

“Einar mentioned consequences if his father found out he’d been cast into the Rift,” I got out, trying to catch his head to stop it from rolling violently on his neck. “Who is his father?”

“He hasn’t fucking told you,” Revna groused, rolling her eyes skyward as if to beg for patience. “Why does he always leave it to me?”

“Who is he, Rev?” I pushed, nearly stumbling at the bottom of the first ramp.

Revna stopped, giving me a resigned look. “The fucking king, is who. Arik is the crown prince.”