Page 24 of Heart of Chaos (Chaosborn #1)

Chapter twenty-four

Eisa

Arik slept like the dead.

I did not.

Revna had helped me get him settled on his stomach, warning me to make sure he didn’t roll onto his back and to reapply the salve in four hours. I couldn’t figure out how to light the brazier in the center of the cavern by myself, so I’d settled for snuggling under the furs as close to Arik’s body as I could. I found myself checking that he was still breathing every half hour or so, and when I estimated that four hours had passed and it was time for his salve, I didn’t think it was worth trying to get to sleep.

He was the prince. The crown prince. King Arkyn’s eldest son, who had been taken from the palace years ago and hadn’t been heard from since.

Except he was here. It seemed impossible that the rough, wild man who flouted orders and was now my mate could have come from royalty.

What did that make me?

I must have finally drifted off for an hour or two, because when I awoke with a panicked start, the bed was empty.

“Arik?” I sat up, reaching in my mind for the silver bridge. Baldur?

He’s coming, Baldur drawled, an edge of exhaustion in his tone. He went to get tea.

Tea? I rubbed my eyes, feeling the lack of sleep drag at my mind. What time is it?

Early. The sun is not up.

Idunn stirred in my mind, stretching her claws and tail and wings and neck. I am hungry.

You’re always hungry, I replied, wondering how Arik’s back would affect Baldur’s wings.

They hurt, was Baldur’s reply.

Idunn’s hiss of fury was soothed only when I promised her extra breakfast

They will heal, Kj?re, he soothed. Although not before we are forced to fly with them, I suspect.

Einar would send you out after last night? I asked in horror.

Einar wishes us all dead, Baldur replied calmly. I do not doubt that Tormund wishes the same.

My stomach lurched. I’d momentarily forgotten that Arik’s reirhold had been dissolved and split up last night.

Why did Einar let us stay together? I asked Baldur.

The dragon rumbled angrily. Because dragons do not serve without their mates. It is part of the ancient agreement that binds us to the drage. Even the Dragehersker cannot break it.

So Jorgen and Branka will stay together?

They will.

I breathed a sigh of relief. I was worried that Branka would be made a target, but I knew Jorgen wouldn’t let anything happen to her. I knew it was a punishment for Arik to have his reirhold disbanded, but I didn’t doubt that Revna could take care of herself, and Jorgen and Branka would keep each other safe.

I sighed, reaching for Sigrid’s necklace beneath the large, linen shirt I’d taken to wearing for sleep.

The thing, Idunn said, her rage temporarily displaced by curiosity. Tell me about the burning thing now.

The burning—oh, this? I pulled the chain to reveal the tiny, tear-shaped gem, holding it up so Idunn could see it though my eyes. It was a gift.

Idunn cocked her head. From our mate?

No, I replied quickly, feeling odd about Arik being called my mate. From a friend.

You miss this friend.

My throat caught on the memory of the last time I’d seen Sigrid. It felt like another lifetime ago now, although it was only a few weeks. Yes.

Idunn nodded sagely. I know what it is to long for someone.

I softened at the mental image she sent me, one of a shattering star that spiraled into twin arcs of light—one white and one blue. They danced around each other through a universe of light and color until blackness crept over them. And then they fled, and the white streak disappeared through a blue crack in the world.

The blue was left to hold back the darkness, and Idunn’s sadness and fear swept through me. I missed him a great deal.

Was that you and Baldur? What was that darkness?

We do not speak its name, Idunn hissed, shrinking back into my mind. It is the destroyer of realms. Bringer of nightmares. The creator of what you call the odemarksdyr.

Does Arik—

A loud bang on the door made me blink and spool back into myself.

“Let me in,” Arik demanded through the door. “My hands are full.”

“Insufferable man,” I sighed, taking the time to pull on trousers before making my way around the bed. Having his back flayed had likely not helped his temper, but he didn’t have to shout.

I unlatched the door and was met with the smell of something warm and nutty and slightly sweet.

“Lesson one, Kj?re,” Arik drawled as he handed me a steaming cup of what must be some kind of tea. “Always verify my identity before letting me in.”

“You seem…better?” I hedged, eyeing him as he took a large bite out of a flaky looking pastry. He hadn’t bothered with a shirt, the bandages covering most of his torso where I’d wrapped them the night before. I wished he would turn so I could get a proper look at his back.

His lip twitched, his only sign of amusement. “Drink that. And check that I’m me next time.”

“I assume anyone trying to murder me won’t bring tea,” I pointed out, sitting on the edge of the bed while cradling the cup. It was gloriously warm and smooth, and it soothed my insides, which were a mess of nerves from the night before.

My stomach gave a mighty rumble, and Idunn hissed in annoyance that Arik hadn’t brought her a pastry. Ravenous beast, I teased.

Give the pastry to Idunn, Baldur commanded.

Arik choked on his bite. This is mine!

She is hungry.

Arik rolled his eyes and handed me the pastry. Happy?

Very , Baldur replied as I stifled my laughter long enough to take a bite. Arik gave me a quizzical look but didn’t comment as he sipped his tea.

“Let me finish this and I’ll look at your back,” I said, trying not to moan as I licked honey from my fingers.

Arik blinked, then cleared his throat and looked away. “It’s fine. Not the worst lashing I’ve had, and likely not the last.”

I rolled my eyes. “You were unconscious by the end.”

“But not dead.” He raised his cup to me in a mock salute.

“Hearthmother above, is the bar so low?”

Arik chuckled. “You’re in an unusually good mood. Why are you not shouting at me for getting myself lashed for nine people? Jorgen and Revna have already had a go, and even Branka looked like she wanted to chime in.”

I tried to make my shrug look nonchalant, despite the fact that I felt the tea rise up my throat at the mere thought of the whipping. “Would it help if I did?”

“I rather like it when you shout at me, Kj?re. It means you care.”

I swallowed. I did care. That was the thing that scared me. The only people I’d ever cared about in my life had been used against me or taken from me, and caring for Arik felt dangerous. I barely knew him, and I had no idea which feelings were my own and which were brought on by Idunn and the mating bond.

She’d been ready to kill for him last night.

“Eisa?” His eyes narrowed in concern. What’s wrong?

“Nothing,” I replied aloud, feeling like our mental link was too intimate along with all of my conflicting feelings. “It was…” I sighed, putting down my cup and rising. “It was unpleasant to watch.”

Arik gave me a long look, then nodded once. “You did well. Holding Idunn back, I mean.”

I scoffed. “You’re lucky she didn’t burn the place to the ground. How did you know she would react like that?”

“Mates,” Arik said, as if this one word explained every new phenomenon in my life. “We have a few hours before we have to report for patrols. You should get some more sleep.”

I blinked at the abrupt change of subject, ignoring his suggestion. “What is Tormund like?”

“He’s like Einar,” Arik said darkly. “And he has a particular grudge against me since I repeatedly knocked him unconscious on our last mission.” He spoke calmly, but I could sense his quiet rage through our dragons.

I shook my head. “And why exactly did you do that?”

Arik leveled me with a pointed look. “Because he would have kept me from getting to you.”

My stomach did a little flip at his words, and I made a concerted effort to study my tea.

“I suspect he would very much like to see me dead,” Arik continued. “So I wouldn’t be surprised if he makes us do something unreasonably dangerous. You need to stay close, Eisa.”

I swallowed, my anxiety returning full force. “Einar wouldn’t let him kill you, would he?”

Arik barked a laugh. “Einar would love nothing more. Any excuse to get rid of me while making it look like an accident.”

“If Einar hates you so much, why didn’t he execute you last night?” The idea soured my stomach, and I hastily added, “Not that I wanted him to.”

Arik gave me a sardonic smile as he met my eyes across the metal brazier. “I appreciate the clarification, Kj?re. And Einar can’t kill me because of my father.”

“King Arkyn.” Gods, now that I really considered it, he looked just like the single portrait of the aging king I’d seen in one of my mother’s old books. Wilder and less polished, of course, but he had the same gray eyes and stern profile.

Arik nodded. “Revna or Baldur?”

“Revna.”

“Of course she told you. Technically, I am Prince Arik Ulvsanger of Stalheim, but no one bothers with my title here except Einar, and he only does it to irritate me.”

“Ulvsanger?” I raised an eyebrow.

Arik shrugged. “Why do you think the royal sigil is a wolf? Your family name is also fitting. Eisa Eldsen—child of fire.”

“How do you know my family name?”

“Your contract,” Arik replied, meeting my raised brow with his own. “I read it before I burned it.”

“Oh.” I felt my cheeks heat at the intensity of his gaze. The name was my mother’s, not my father’s. I couldn’t even remember our true family name. After my mother had sold herself into servitude, she refused to use it and signed her maiden name on the contract with Henrik. I’d done the same.

My throat burned at the memory of her, sick and pale like me as she slaved for Henrik until he finally worked her to death.

“You alright?” Arik asked. He leaned forward and covered my hand with his. The teacup was shaking in my grip.

“Fine.” I cleared my throat and steadied my hands. “Why did he send you here? Your father, I mean. Aren’t princes rather important to their fathers?”

He laughed, sitting back in his chair. “Some are. Not me. My father always preferred my brother, Edvard. He’ll take the throne, not me. Sending me to Ironholm was a convenient way to demonstrate his own loyalty to the realm while removing a constant thorn in his side and putting his preferred heir on the throne.”

“But you’re Chaosborn. Wouldn’t he have no choice but to send you?”

“Edvard is also Chaosborn,” he huffed. “But you can’t send both princes to Ironholm to face certain death, and I was of age at Dragejakt. Edvard wasn’t.”

“You resent him,” I realized, feeling the oily emotion pulsing through the bond between our dragons. “Your father. Your brother, too.”

“For many reasons, Kj?re. Sending me here is the least of them.” He stood, draining his tea cup.

“You don’t act like royalty,” I said, rising with him.

“Really?” He raised both eyebrows at me. “I’m stubborn, like to get my own way, and have a terrible time following orders that I don’t give.”

I heard Baldur rumble a laugh at this, and I couldn’t help but smile. “I thought princes were supposed to be refined.”

“Edvard is,” he shrugged, stepping closer until we were nearly touching. He towered over me, but standing like this, there were mere inches between our faces. “You wouldn’t like me if I were refined.”

“Who says I like you now?”

I felt something hot pulse in my stomach as Arik stepped closer, and the scent of leather and smoke curled inside me. “I think you like me just fine.”

Something hot and needy seemed to thrum between us—a pulse with a palpable beat that struck me without warning and made my core heat.

Mine, Idunn purred.

Arik’s eyes flashed silver, and Idunn made an absolutely indecent noise for a millennia-old dragon.

What in the name of all the gods are you thinking about right now, Eisa? Arik’s voice was a sensual purr in my head, and Idunn didn’t help matters by sending me mental images of his bare torso.

I shook my head and swallowed, shoving down Idunn’s desire until it was stuffed into a neat little box in the back of my mind. “Nothing. Let me look at your back.”

“My back is fine.”

“Idunn is fussing.”

Little liar, Idunn crooned.

“I’m drage,” Arik pointed out. “It takes a lot to kill me.”

Please, Arik.

He sighed, pursing his lips as he narrowed his gaze at me. “Fine. But that won’t always work on me, just so you know.”

“What won’t?” I asked, hunting for where the ends of the bandages were tucked in. I found it and began unwrapping them.

Arik obligingly raised his arms, the muscles across the top of his chest and shoulders rippling and stretching in a way that had him hissing in pain. He caught my hands, stilling my frantic unwrapping and held my gaze for a long moment. My heart gave an unruly thump at the intensity in his eyes. “When you say ‘please’.”

My core heated as he released my hands, and I forced that little box to become even smaller. I returned to the bandages, unwinding them until Arik’s back was exposed.

The bandages came away bloody, the wounds still oozing. But for such deep gashes, they’d healed remarkably well in just one night. The shallower cuts were closed with new, pink skin puckering over them already, and the deeper gashes were no longer freely bleeding.

I traced my fingers over the top of his back. “Your tattoo is ruined here,” I pointed out, marking the jagged black fragments of what had been images and runes with my fingers.

Arik shrugged. “Again, not the first time. Any sign of infection?”

I shook my head. “None I can see. But we should put salve on and cover it back up. The skin is still raw in places.”

Arik waved me off, reaching for a shirt instead. “Not much point if Tormund sends us out on patrol.”

“Would he really do that with your back like this?”

Arik leveled me with a serious look. “Yes. Are you ready?”

“I thought we had a few hours before we had to report?”

“We do,” Arik drawled, pulling the shirt over his head. He hissed, and I sighed, certain he’d opened something. He shot me a rueful grin. “Are you ready to practice shifting?”