Page 32 of Polestar (The Global Paranormal Security Agency #3)

TWENTY-SIX

M agnus ran into the great hall, toward the door that opened to the meeting room, where Ana had been detained. A cluster of guards held fast, blocking the door with angled spears.

He stopped, spun around and moved further down the length of the great hall toward his father’s throne.

As he’d expected, guards converged on his location and surrounded him in a semi-circle with the stone wall at his back.

I don’t have time for this. They’ve already hurt Ana. Gods only know what else they’ll do to her.

His mind slid away from thoughts of Ulla’s partners marking Ana with a sigil too.

No, I won’t allow that to happen.

But first, despite knowing his case was a lost cause, he had to reason with his kinsmen.

His father’s castle guard spread out around him, every one of them grim-faced, fists tightening on spears, swords or other preferred dangerous weapons from ancient times.

“You don’t have to do this.” he said, loud and clear.

“Magnus, don’t make this harder for us than it already is,” Jan, Magnus’ second cousin, said. “There is no joy in seeing you fallen so low, but our orders are clear. We must detain you by command of the king’s edict, preceding your execution.”

“Your king is under a spell and dying in his rooms at this moment.” Magnus held his gaze, then looked into the eyes of the other men facing him.

“Ridiculous,” someone to his right scoffed.

“Have you not noticed that your commander has a black sigil tattooed on his throat? That is not a Barentian rank symbol. It is a distorted emblem used to control him. My father—your King bears an identical one. As he fights its effects, it drains the life from him.”

“Lies,” another said, raising his weapon higher.

“You’ve all known me my entire life. Have you ever known me to lie?”

“Things have changed in the last decade, Magnus. As have you.”

“I have,” he conceded. “And you’re right, things have changed a lot here. New humans roaming the island. Some sort of base set up on the farthest island of our archipelago, run by more humans, no doubt.”

“The king allows it.”

Magnus nodded. There was no denying that. “But why? And who among the Barentians have access to it? Any? I wager not.”

“Mistress Ulla frequently visits the place.”

“I’m sure she does.” Magnus smirked.

“What are you saying, banished? Are you trying to sway us against your father and ex-wife? We understand your bitterness and jealousy in such a loss of pride. We understand your desire for revenge.”

“That’s not what this is,” Magnus growled.

They were easing closer to him as they spoke, tightening the space.

Despite their weapons, he could take down about half of them in his polar bear form—if he acted fast.

Although determined to fulfill their duty, they didn’t want to hurt him anymore than he wanted to injure them.

“Tell us then, Magnus. What is this? What do you hope to accomplish here?” Jan’s voice was soft, leaning on their personal history as Magnus had hoped to do earlier.

Jaw clenched, he stepped back, heel striking stone.

The guards moved in closer. Their expressions didn’t give away their nervousness, but he scented it.

He was bigger than they were and a fierce fighter. Men were going to get hurt if he resisted. They knew it. He knew it.

“I’m ensuring my son still has a Barentia to rule when my father is gone.”

Some men registered surprise. They’d expected him to declare the throne for himself.

It was all he needed.

He shifted in a blink, swiped out with a great paw.

Then the other, sending his kinsmen spinning in opposing directions before any reacted.

Bracing a foot against the stone wall behind him, he launched himself forward, bowling some of the rest to the floor as he ran like a freight train over them, snapping bones as he went.

Several recovered from their shock, and abandoned their weapons to shift and give chase.

Magnus charged through the castle now. Alert guards, still in human form, moved along the narrow staircases and halls to intercept him on his way to his father’s room.

As he ascended to a secondary landing, someone threw a spear. Its aim true, it embedded in his flank, causing him to stumble. He roared against the pain, dislodged it with a swipe and kept going. Blood flowed down through his fur, leaving splotching prints as he ran.

“Don’t let him get anywhere near the king’s chamber!” someone shouted.

Two bears blocked the hall. He knew them. He knew all of them. There wasn’t a single bear on this island that he didn’t.

He drew a deep breath, sprinted forward and lowered his head, aiming for the narrow space between them. The impact sent them crunching into the stone walls on either side. Pain wrenched Magnus’ shoulder from the impact and the rending of flesh as one clawed at him to stop him. But they couldn’t.

They wouldn’t.

He knocked aside two more guards posted outside the antechamber to his father’s quarters and slammed into the solid oak door.

It gave way on the fourth hit, splintering inward, its pieces shattering against the interior walls.

As the door gave, Ulla and Putinovski, with Ana draped across his arms, appeared from the opposite side of the antechamber, then ran into his father’s room.

“Havard, defend your King with your life. Magnus is here to take the throne!” Ulla screamed before slamming the bedroom door closed.

The iron lock clicked into place as Magnus and Havard stared at one another. Magnus’ sides heaved from the exertion of the run, the spear wound and damaged shoulder.

He already filled most of the small room. When Havard took his bear form, there wouldn’t be enough space for two grappling bears.

Things were about to get messy.

And Ulla had just commanded him to fight to the death if necessary.

Given that she had just locked herself in his dying father’s room with his vulnerable mate, Magnus was no longer sure he could afford the luxury of preserving Havard’s life if he couldn’t subdue him quickly.

Havard became his bear. Smaller than Magnus, but no less dangerous as he launched forward, jaws snapping at Magnus’ face.

He jerked backward in time to avoid the sharp teeth, stumbling on the solid wood furniture tumbling under foot.

Under Havard’s relentless offensive, Magnus swiped and batted away his face and claws again and again.

Tired and frustrated, Magnus rose on his hind legs and pounded Havard with his front paws, sending him flying into the opposite wall with a deafening crack.

Magnus roared at him to stay back.

Havard, dazed, stumbled to raise himself on all fours, shaking his head to clear it. He tottered for a moment, struggling to hold his balance.

Magnus dropped to plant his feet, preparing to either charge or divert Havard’s attack when it came.

Both polar bears gripped their claws into the fine edges of the stone that made up the floor.

A roar from somewhere downstairs resounded throughout the castle, drawing Magnus’ attention.

Elias!

No!

Magnus turned back in time to see Havard launch his entire body forward, jaw angled for his throat.

Pain shot through Magnus’ neck muscles as Havard’s teeth tore through the flesh and gripped him so hard, he inhibited his airflow.

Havard had him.

Havard tugged and slammed Magnus’ head back against the stone wall.

Warm blood trickled down his back from the base of his skull to join the seeping gash across his shoulder. The blood flow from his haunch continued.

The roar resounded again, louder, closer.

Elias, putting himself in danger.

Ana could already be dead just beyond that door .

Deprived of air and weakened from loss of blood, his vision of the room narrowed, hazy and growing dark.

Magnus received the full force of Elias’ third roar into Havard’s face as he tightened his death grip on Magnus’ throat.

The room went dark as Magnus sagged.

“Release him!” Elias’ clear voice commanded. “Now!”

Havard growled, intent on fulfilling his duty.

“If my grandfather is dead, then I am your King. I command you to release your hold,” he shouted, switching tactics.

Magnus’ would have smiled if he could.

But he couldn’t.

He drifted in the silence of the void.

I ’m dead.

Nothing but blinding white light surrounded Analiese Maria Marguerita Francesca Ortega.

Her entire body tingled like she was wrapped in energized, raw cotton fluff.

“You’re not dead. At least I don’t think so,” Antony’s voice filled her head.

“Where are you?”

“I’m here, Ana, but you’re encased in something… well, part of you is encased in something. Like Sascha was when she bilocated. Your body is unconscious and in the king’s room.”

She extended her hands. “I don’t feel anything.”

“I know you said you needed a priest, but Ana is the next best thing. If we can wake her up.”

“Who are you talking to?”

“The shaman. He’s not happy all these outsiders are invading the king’s room.”

“I’ll bet,” she murmured, turning in place, trying to discern something, anything that wasn’t just more white space. Or cotton fluff. Or cloud haze—whatever this was. This certainly wasn’t the same place Aksel was trapped in.

“The king is still alive, Ana, but just barely. The shaman is using his energy to keep him stable despite his resistance to the sigil.”

“Is he in danger?” She peered in the distance, blinking. White on white movement. She drifted toward it.

“Not just yet. The bear woman and the magician are arguing over what to do while Magnus is fighting his way through the castle.”

“Magnus?”

“Yeah, my god Ana, you picked a big bastard! I’ve never seen such an enormous bear in my life.”

“Antony, you’re a sailor. Have you ever seen any bears in your life?” she said, squinting into the light as the shape took form.

“That’s besides the point. He’s easily bigger than every other bear here. Anyway, we have to figure something out while this woman bear has her knickers in a panicked twist and is taking the other guy with her. Before they do something stupid.”