Page 6 of Heart of Chaos (Chaosborn #1)

Chapter six

Arik

That was extremely tactless.

I sighed as Baldur grumbled at me for my handling of Eisa’s question about the Chaosborn.

He had told Kindra, who had of course told Revna, who was now glaring at me between bites of stew.

Insufferable lizard. What do you suggest? I asked.

You could be gentle, Baldur suggested. Kind.

I’m neither gentle, nor kind.

Yes, you are.

You sound like my mother. I took a bite of stew, unable to focus on Revna and Eisa’s conversation with Baldur shouting so loudly at me.

Your mother is a wise woman.

I scoffed. She married my father. She’s not flawless.

I felt Baldur cock his head as he tried to parse the human emotion under my words. Do you hate him because he sent you away? To me?

No , I said quickly, reassuring the sensitive beast with a mental scratch to his brow ridges. I hate him because he’s a tyrant who cares more about his legacy and power than the people of this kingdom. Sending me to you is one of the only good things he’s done with his miserable life.

Yet you serve him. He sounded so confused that I laughed aloud, garnering bewildered stares from neighboring tables and raised eyebrows from Revna and Eisa.

Human society is not as simple as dragonkind, I explained, giving the women an apologetic shrug for my outburst.

Dragonkind is complex and multi-faceted, Baldur argued, huffing so defensively into my mind that my head began to ache .

Apologies, oh proud one. I just mean there’s more hierarchy, and it’s not based on things like real power or strength or righteousness. Not as your kind are. Not like your power.

Baldur settled, mollified by my correction. The vain peacock knew he was the most powerful dragon on the rock, and any suggestion that he wasn’t made him irrationally testy.

She will be powerful too, Baldur insisted. I looked at Eisa, who looked anything but powerful. She was so pale and fragile-looking, clearly exhausted and malnourished and in pain. With your help.

I sighed, wishing I had Baldur’s confidence that she was who we had been waiting for. I’d seen a tiny spark in her when she’d bargained for her friends, and another when we had spoken of the Rifting, but it wouldn’t be enough to sustain her through what was to come.

You must coax it from her, Baldur insisted. Stoke her flame until it blazes. She didn’t run from us when she saw the shift. She has courage.

That was true. I felt an unexpected swell of pride for how well she’d handled meeting Baldur. Accepting him. I hadn’t warned her what was coming–not really–partially as a test of her mettle. She’d surprised me.

“You know, it’s exceptionally rude to carry on a prolonged conversation with your dragon in front of others,” Revna sniped, scowling at me across the table.

“Take it up with Baldur,” I drawled, shoveling more of the tasteless stew down my throat. Fuel was fuel, even if it tasted like ash, and I’d need every bit of it for the flight across the sea. “He’s the one who won’t shut up.”

Baldur flicked his tail in annoyance in my mind, and I batted it away playfully.

“Anyway,” Revna said, still glaring at me, “as I said, Eisa, you have nothing to worry about. Baldur wouldn’t put you in unnecessary danger.”

“How can you know that?” she asked, glancing at me and quickly averting her eyes.

Those eyes. They were such a remarkable shade of icy blue, I was surprised that Revna had still wanted to test her. Baldur knew she’d burn blue as soon as he saw them, although I supposed he had more of a reason to be attuned to that color than Kindra.

“Dragons know these things,” I replied cryptically, giving Revna a look that warned her not to go into more detail than that. She scowled, but Baldur gave me an encouraging mental nudge as I cleared my throat. “You survived years of oppression. You’ll survive the Rifting.”

“Is that how you both survived?” she asked, looking between me and Revna. “Were you indentured too?”

“Not exactly,” Revna said, evading the question to spare me from having to explain my sordid past. “But if Arik’s dragon is confident, that’s a good sign. The dragons understand Chaos far better than we do.”

“Finish your stew,” I commanded, tapping Eisa’s half-full bowl with the edge of my spoon. “You’ll need the strength.”

She nodded, not a spark of defiance flickering in her eyes as she obeyed.

You still doubt me , Baldur grumbled irritably after Revna had taken the girl to the room we’d rented for the night. She was practically dead on her feet, and I wondered how she’d stay upright on another long flight. The Norns are never wrong.

Give it a rest, Baldur, I sighed. He knew my opinion of the Norns. We’re going. It’s done.

Baldur rumbled eagerly. He acted like every moment on this side of the Rift had been a form of aching torture, despite the fact that twenty years was nothing for a dragon.

Don’t be so dramatic, he drawled, attuned to my thoughts whether I wanted him in there or not. You weren’t ready until now.

You could have waited for her , I suggested, as I’d done many times before. Your mate. You crossed the Rift knowing that she couldn’t follow.

Because you were mine. I came to claim you.

I felt a surge of affection toward the beast that I covered with a laugh. So sentimental.

And to make sure we were ready for her .

There it was. Of course.

Revna returned and sat with a thunk at the little table, her hand raised to flag down another ale for herself. “Poor girl is exhausted. I don’t think she’s slept or eaten properly in over a decade.”

“Are you her mother, now?” I drawled.

“Someone has to be,” she muttered darkly, meeting my eyes with a serious look. “She’s covered in scars and bruises, Arik. And bone-thin beneath the layers of soiled clothing.”

Baldur growled in fury in my head, and I winced at the ferocity of it. “Careful. Baldur’s on edge already. I can’t have him flying off to rip her former master to shreds. Too much paperwork.”

Revna snorted, accepting a tankard of ale from a buxom serving girl.

“I had to promise the bakery twice as much as I had on me to keep Sigrid and Anders. Where will the money—“

“I’ll handle it.”

“You and I both know that we don’t get paid enough—“

”I said I’ll handle it,“ I repeated. Revna was my friend, but she was also my subordinate, and I her reirleder. There was a limit to how much I would let her question me. “The crown has plenty to spare.”

Revna smirked. “You might infuriate your father into an early grave. What a tragic loss.”

I grunted. It was wishful thinking, to be sure. “I wouldn’t shed any tears.”

Revna’s smile fell. “Do you have a plan, Arik? For dealing with Einar?”

“He’s no fool.” The Dragehersker had been looking for a reason to be rid of me from the moment I’d stepped on the rock. “He’ll likely try to get me killed before the Rifting. It’s what I would do.”

“So you have a plan?” Revna pushed.

“Don’t let him succeed?” I suggested.

Revna rolled her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re taking this seriously. You know your father won’t step in to help if this all goes to shit.”

“Things have been going to shit for years, Rev.” I nodded toward the stairs in the back of the room. “If Baldur’s right, then she might be our best hope of turning everything around.”

I am right, Baldur grumbled irritably.

Revna sighed and downed the rest of her ale. “Well, do try not to die,” she pleaded as she rose to her feet and stretched. She looked as tired as I felt. “It would be terribly inconvenient for the rest of us.”