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Chapter twenty-three

Fhord

We've Made Our Decision

T hat gods-damned manacle around Sifa’s neck is going to fuck up everything.

I’d hoped it wouldn’t work. The Dróttning had it developed after Sifa escaped and tested it on a lot of elves, but nobody as strong as my little rabbit. When they put it on her, I knew. I can’t even sense her presence. It’s smothering her magic.

A dark cloud is forming inside me, and I don’t know how I’ll ever get rid of it. Even my savage feels it, holding himself at bay to avoid feeding that storm. The storm that could consume me entirely.

I need to talk to Sifa. Need her to know I didn’t betray her. That I’ll get her out if it’s the last thing I do.

But I can’t risk going to her. Not unless I have no other choice. If they capture me, I won’t be able to help either of us. And they’ll punish Sifa and Tindera for my sins. For my weakness.

I can’t let that happen. My only choice is to get rid of the gods-damned shackle around her throat. The problem is I have no fucking idea how to do that. She’s in a part of the prison I can’t control. Any influence I wield at the Nest ends with those cages. They’re outside of the reach of the dragon riders. They placed her there intentionally because they don’t trust me.

That fucking know-it-all guard will pay for how badly he’s fucked it all up.

He’ll experience everything Sifa does. Every pain forced on her. Every bit of shame. Every moment of despair.

After I figure out how to get Sifa out.

At least Tindera’s healed. She’s terrified for Astarot, who’s still trapped in the blood-stained meadow where everything went to Helheim. I’ve gotten an update and am anxious to assure her he’s recovering.

They’re resolved to fly together, at least once. And she can’t wait to share her favorite field with him. He’s somehow never tasted goat before. Tindera spends a lot of time—a lot of time—thinking about their first meal together. Feeding Astarot her own memories of her favorite food. She’s always been a little food-obsessed.

I’m heading to my voracious dragon now. I need to be with her. We’re connected while I’m in the Nest, but it’s never as good as sitting by her side. Hearing her heart pound in her chest. Feeling her breath as it wisps over me. It calms me like nothing else can other than Sifa. And I need some fucking calm right now.

I also need to talk to Tindera. The Dróttning is expected at any moment, and I can’t risk her overhearing our conversation. When she’s close, it’s easy for her to eavesdrop on any words shared between dragon and rider. There are no secrets. It’s one of the reasons she’s so dangerous.

So I’m heading into the lair to be with mine. A rock lifts from my gut when I see her, sprawled out in front of a vast underground lake the dragons claimed for their own. I’ve tried to get in the water more than once but never succeeded. No riders allowed. A smile emerges against my will as I think about Tindera’s response the last time—how much fun we had racing around the cave as she held me at bay.

The Dróttning has taken too much from the Thunder. She stole their independence and freedom. Forces them to accept unworthy riders. Takes private thoughts from what should be a sacred bond. Tortures any who defy her. But she’s allowed them this. A scrap that costs her nothing. It’s theirs, and nobody, not even their riders, will take it from them.

Tindera looks up from her nap, stretching as she watches me approach. By the gods, she’s beautiful. Even in this low light, her feathers sparkle, enough dappled sunlight filtering through to catch the gold and cast an umber glow all around. She’s one of the few gold dragons. Mine .

Mine , she echoes, her eyes bright. I can’t deny that. I’m hers, just as she is mine.

Leave? Tindera’s ready to go. She’s been stuck here in the Nest for weeks. We’re waiting for the final okay from the Dróttning, which should come any day now, maybe today. We won’t head to Revalle yet—we need to stay close to Astarot until he’s fully healed—but we’ll be out of here.

And while she doesn’t know this yet, I can’t leave until Sifa’s free. I hope she understands. That she agrees.

“Walk with me,” I urge as I reach out to stroke her snout.

She holds my gaze for a moment then drops her chin. Standing, she stretches again before leading me away from the pool. We roam deeper into the caves, searching for a place I can speak without fear. She takes me down a passage I don’t recognize, our feet disturbing a sandy ground untouched by any footsteps. Finally, perhaps fifteen minutes after we left, Tindera settles in the middle of a large cavern, dropping her head to give me access to her horn—the place she loves to be scratched.

“The Dróttning will be here soon,” I say as I lean against my dragon and dig my fingers under her feathers. She rumbles at me when I find her favorite spot. “We know things she cannot. Things that would get both of us killed. Get Astarot and Sifa killed.”

Tindera rumbles again, this one a warning. She doesn’t like it when I tell her things she already knows. Another smile emerges of its own will as my hand wriggles farther under her plumage. “I know. I’m sorry. Just making sure we’re both agreed about the stakes.”

Her unblinking eyes watch me, unamused. Finally, she relents and gives me a single drop of her eyelids.

“I did everything I could with Astarot,” I assure her. I’ve felt her angst. She’s tried to hide it—the Dróttning cannot learn that Tindera bonded with Astarot—so we haven’t spoken about him at all.

“The wound was deep, but he’s strong. Stronger than he should be after just a few days of rest. When his body is healed and he can fly free, he’ll be nearly as impressive as you.”

Tindera snorts, pride rippling through her. She’s one of the most magnificent beasts in all of Vanatia. She would not bond with a lesser dragon.

“He’ll heal. I promise. This wound won’t kill him.”

She watches me, measuring my sincerity. Like every dragon, she can see all of me. I can’t hide a thing from her. When she assures herself that I believe Astarot will fully heal, she blinks her eyes again. She’s ready to talk about home.

“I want to go back home as badly as you. We’ve been gone too long. But Sifa’s being held someplace I can’t reach. No dragon riders are allowed in that part of the prison. They’re using the iron manacle around her throat, so I can’t speak with her either. I can’t leave her there.”

Tindera’s pause this time is even longer. Finally, a single word drops into my thoughts. It comes alone, unlike her usual messages. But I don’t need an explanation. It can only mean one thing.

Save .

I exhale a sigh of relief. Tindera agrees we need to help Sifa.

“It puts us both at risk. If I’m caught, she’ll condemn you too. We’ll both suffer for a very long time.”

It’s Tindera’s turn to sigh in her dragony way. She huffs out a breath, exasperation layered with resolve. Her eyes are unblinking, solemn.

Quandary .

The laugh bubbles out of me unprompted. My hand reaches even deeper under her feathers, scratching at her favorite spot. She claimed Sifa in the caves when they first met. Even before Sifa and Astarot bonded, Tindera knew we would face tough choices as my dragon’s interests diverged from my mate’s.

As I was forced to choose to place one at risk to protect the other.

It is a gods-damned, mother fucking quandary.

But we’ve made our decision.

I spend the next hour with Tindera, just being together. We don’t talk much. She tells me about her recovery and assures me she’s fully healed. I talk about our journey and tell her more about her drake and my short time with him. We settle our souls.

As we walk back, my gaze catches on footsteps I don’t recall from earlier. In a few places, it looks like more than one dragon has passed through these tunnels, and I search my memories for images of the ground before. I thought we were in a system that had been untouched.

Neither of us felt another dragon’s presence. We would have known if we were followed. Shaking my head, I cast out my fears of phantoms. They must have been here before, and I missed it.

Leaving Tindera back at the pool, I return to my chamber and settle in for the afternoon. Before I went to see Tindera, I visited the library to research the manacle they’re using on Sifa, sneaking out a book that looks promising. It was developed from restraints used long ago, when elves walked freely in this world. Maybe I’ll find something helpful.

Less than a day later, the Dróttning appears, the energy in the Nest changing as soon as she arrives. Without even feeling her presence—which only happens when I search for her—I know she’s here. The corridors outside my rooms grow busier, occasionally verging on frantic. Whispered voices pass by the door, the sound but not the words reaching my ears. Even shouts rumble down the hall occasionally.

She’ll want to see me, and I need to meet with her. I’m not ready yet. I have to figure out a way to convince her to hold off on torturing Sifa without suggesting I care. But she’s perceptive as fuck. Especially with me. I have a hard time keeping secrets from her.

Her summon surprises me. I hadn’t expected her to call for me so soon. Within an hour of her arrival, a knock stirs me from my book. Tucking it behind the displaced stone I use to hide things, I open the door to find her favorite messenger.

“The Dróttning calls for you.”

“Hello ?ldit,” I answer with a humorless smile. “How are you?”

“Fhord,” he intones with a sharp drop of his chin. His voice is as terse as normal. He’s good at his job. “My state is irrelevant. The Dróttning would speak with you. Follow me.”

“Happily,” I tell him, stepping into the corridor as I close and lock my door. “I welcome her return.”

?ldit spins on his heel and strides away, his heels clapping on the stone beneath us.

The Dróttning waits for me in her chamber, a vast space comprised of several interlocking rooms, that sits empty most of the time. It’s as dry and cold as she is. The furniture is sufficient for its purposes but bland, devoid of any color other than gray, black and white. Three couches, a dozen chairs and a large table surrounded by more chairs occupy the largest room, into which I’m led. I’ve spent enough time here to know the feel of each by heart. They’re comfortable enough, except the one she chose because she’s a cruel bitch, which I always avoid. If the bedrooms haven’t changed—and after all these years, I’m certain they haven’t—they’ll look the same.

The Dróttning is not one for change. Or sentiment. Or anything soft.

“As requested, I have brought Tindera’s rider.” ?ldit’s voice is as flat and dull as the room around us.

“Leave us.” The Dróttning’s gaze finds mine as her words dismiss her messenger and my stomach plunges into my gods-damned toes. Her eyes are shards of glass. She’s pissed at me and my plans for protecting Sifa just fucked right off. Dread for my rabbit grips every bone in my body, twisting them the way the Dróttning’s gods-damned medallions torture elves.

But I shut that shit right down. I can’t let her sense my fear. If she has even a trifling of doubt about my allegiance to her, she’ll destroy everyone and everything that might have come between us. So I plaster on the lazy smile I always give her when she calls me and hold her frozen gaze.

?ldit responds to the Dróttning’s dismissal with a crisp “My liege” before stalking from the room.

When he’s gone, her eyes narrow. “I expected you to come for me when you knew I’d arrived.”

Striding over to sit in a nearby chair, I stretch my legs out in front of me and turn to examine the weapons hung all around the room—the only adornment the Dróttning tolerates in her space. She hates my informality around her, even when we’re alone, but I’ve never cared before. I can’t start now.

Finally, I look back at her. “I knew ?ldit would find me when you were ready to see me. As he did.”

“You also know,” she reminds me in words as sharp as the blades around us, “that you are to find me when I arrive at the Nest. I should not have to seek you out.”

I sigh, then continue my inspection of a nearby wall before rising to get a closer look at an ax I don’t recognize. “Is this one new?” I ask as my finger reaches out to test its edge, drawing a drop of blood. It’s every bit as sharp as it looks.

The responding sigh is tinged with anger. But she also expects this. It’s been many years since I cared what she thought about me. Or wanted anything from her. She’ll tolerate this and more and it’ll help convince her I don’t care much about the request I need to make.

“Sit,” she demands, frustration echoing in her voice.

I turn to see a finger pointed peremptorily at the chair I vacated, her back straight. Nodding, I stroll back toward her, plopping down to extend my legs again.

“You know you can have no secrets from me? Here or anywhere.” It’s phrased as a question but we both know it’s a statement.

“I would not keep a secret from you. I have nothing to hide.” Lifting an ankle to drop it over the other one, I stretch my arms to link my hands behind my head.

“You didn’t think I would care about your … tryst … with the elf?” She gets right to the point, as always.

“Why would you care? I found the rogue elf who’d managed to kill a trainer and subdue one of our most powerful—and stubborn—dragons. I’ve never had an elf before.” My shoulders shrug, the height of indifference. “I decided to fuck her before I turned her in.”

The Dróttning’s lips curve down, her distaste at my declaration drawing a sneer.

“How is an elf walking this world?” I add in a tone tinged with curiosity. It’s what she’d expect me to ask, even if she’d rather discuss other things.

She takes a deep breath, making an effort to hold her temper with me. She hates how quickly I can draw her ire. For a woman known for her stoic behavior, the Dróttning’s always been surprisingly emotional about me.

“We don’t know,” she says at last, her eyes looking past me toward the shackles Sifa wore when she arrived. They’re unlike anything we have in Vanatia, proof of another world—where this odd metal exists—that the Dróttning hides from her subjects. Only her most trusted soldiers enter these rooms, so she’s displayed them here for the past decade.

“Those cuffs,” she tells me, “bound an elf who appeared ten years ago with a troll and something else.” She rises to wander in that direction as if they’re drawing her toward them.

“She’s been here that long? Where has she been? And where’s the troll … and the something else?”

The Dróttning laughs, a dry sound that has nothing to do with humor. “So many questions. Perhaps you should have asked the elf before you tried to fuck her.”

She’s angry. She doesn’t often cuss, but when she does, she’s ready to draw blood from someone. I wonder if this time it’ll be me after all.

“I’ve never been one for talking first,” I respond, rising to stand next to her. My physical presence calms her. It will help me navigate this rope I need to walk. “I did intend to ask her a few questions, but we were interrupted, as I assume you’ve learned.”

Turning, her eyes sear into mine, fury sparking at me. “I shouldn’t have learned this from anyone but you. This is why you must come to me when I arrive here or anywhere. I wasn’t prepared to learn what I did.” Pausing, she places a hand on my arm, her gaze softening. “I can’t protect you if you’re not honest with me.”

I nod, resting my hand on hers for a moment before they drop away and to our sides. Physical contact is strange and uncomfortable for both of us. I’ve never been able to tolerate her touch for long.

“I apologize,” I intone at last. “I didn’t think it would cause problems for you.”

“Perhaps if this were any other elf, but this one is different. She’s dangerous.”

“Different, how?” This may be the opening I need to protect Sifa long enough to save her.

The Dróttning looks again at the shackles as she seems to ponder her response. “Ten years ago, the elf and troll arrived with some vast power source that disappeared within seconds, leaving them behind. They just appeared in an empty room. They’d been tortured—badly from what we can tell—but were alive and strong.”

“Where did they come from?”

“That we do not know. We held them for weeks and they tolerated … intense questioning … but they gave us no answers. The troll was not as defiant as the elf, but he knew nothing. The elf alone could give us information that she refused to share.”

“Why is she alive and free?”

“You recall hearing of the escape a decade ago?”

“Of course.” Until the recent one, a single prisoner had escaped from these caves. She’d expect me to remember that. “Was that the elf?”

“Yes. The elf controlled a guard’s mind, convinced him to release her and the troll.”

“That’s an unusual power for an elf.” I know Sifa’s powers well, but the Dróttning can’t realize that.

“Not so unusual,” she tells me, spinning to return to the couch. I follow and lounge across from her again. “Some of their mental abilities are quite pronounced. It’s one of the reasons elves may not walk freely in Vanatia. They’re dangerous.”

“This one certainly seems to be.”

“And yet, you would have fucked her before bringing her to the Nest?”

I shrug again. “As I said, I’ve never had an elf before. And this one is quite beautiful. I didn’t want to pass up the chance.” Fortunately, I’ve spent enough time in women’s beds to convince the Dróttning that I would indeed pause in the midst of capturing a dangerous enemy if I found her attractive enough.

A single eyebrow lifts as she watches me, tests my words for the lie. When it drops, I know my reputation has given her the explanation she needs. “It won’t happen again.”

“She’s in a cell, out of my reach. Even if I wanted to, it wouldn’t happen again.”

“What did you say to each other before you were found? We hope to learn where she’s been. How she could hide from us for all this time. And we still must get answers to the questions we asked ten years ago.”

“We spoke very little,” I explain. “A mutual attraction and desperate circumstances led us to seize the moment fairly quickly.”

“You didn’t talk to each other? She opened her legs to you without persuasion?”

“I didn’t say she was completely willing,” I respond, my steady gaze holding hers. “I was tenacious enough to drag a response from her body.” I’ve never forced a female, but I’ve nurtured a reputation that would satisfy the Dróttning’s demand for cruelty in all who serve her. She believes me to be a mercurial … and persistent … lover. It’s not a leap for the Dróttning to believe I’d raped females in the past and would again.

“Why did the dragon not stop you?”

“I don’t know why he would care. She’s a random elf and I ride Tindera. The dragon—Astarot, was it?—has been in the Nest long enough to recognize me as a dragon rider.”

This time she watches me for a very long time, measuring my words. When she speaks, anger and disappointment echo through hers. “I’d like to believe you, Fhord. You know the penalty for aiding elves. And you know I would have no choice but to punish you if you committed such a heinous crime.”

“Of course,” I concede. “I would expect nothing else.”

“I can’t protect you if you continue with this reckless behavior. I have sacrificed much to keep your secret,” she reminds me.

“Our secret,” I interject. “Yours as much as mine.”

Her eyes grow hard, little bits of agate. She doesn’t like being interrupted. “Quite so,” she bites out. “If you’re exposed, we’ll be condemned together. I won’t let that happen. Even for you.”

“My apologies. I’ll be more careful.” I need to calm her down if I’m going to push her at all about Sifa’s punishment. Ensure, if I can, that Sifa won’t be tortured before I can get to her.

“If I must punish you, I will,” she adds, a note of warning entering her voice. “I would not tolerate your death well, but I would wrest Tindera from you and bind her to another if you betray my trust. After she spends time with the trainer to remind her where her allegiance lies.”

“I’ve known since I bonded with Tindera that any punishment you wield against me would fall on her. I would not risk that. Ever.”

She dips her chin once. “Good.” Curiosity rises in her face for a moment. “What did Tindera ask you to save?”

I struggle to maintain a flat, bored expression in response to her change of subjects. “What?”

“I’ve heard very little from Tindera today. She’s not very talkative. Earlier, though, she asked you to save something … or someone. What does she want you to save?”

I let understanding wash over my features. “You misunderstand. It was a question, not a request. She heard about my attempt to repair the dragon’s injury and wondered if I’d saved him.”

“Why would she care about one rebellious dragon?”

“You know dragons better than me,” I remind her. “They’re nosy creatures, always looking for information about others in the Thunder. She wondered if this one still lived or if he’d been killed for his stubborn nature.”

Again, the Dróttning watches me for a moment, measuring my response. And again, she seems convinced enough to accept my assurances. Finally, she nods, her eyes lighting with what looks like an idea. “I need your help with the elf.”

“Anything.” I hope my twinge of excitement doesn’t appear in my eyes or voice.

“She didn’t respond to our questions before and we have no reason to believe she will now. We’ll try a different approach.”

“You’re not going to torture her?” I don’t have to pretend for my tone to reflect my surprise.

“Oh, we will. She must be punished for her crimes. My people would not tolerate a weak hand. But not yet. We’ll let her simmer in her fear. After a week or so, you’ll emerge and protect her. Or so she’ll believe. You were able to persuade her to respond to you physically. Perhaps you could be persuasive in other ways.”

I watch the Dróttning, weighing my options. It feels like she’s telling the truth. She’s lied to me before, but I don’t think she is now. And if I agree to this, they won’t kill Sifa. They won’t even torture her. I’ll get access to her and an excuse to save her from their hands. It’ll be the best opportunity I’ll have. Even if it means I have to stay away for a week. Let her suffer in her cell while I roam through these caves, free and unharmed, pretending not to care. I couldn’t risk exposing myself and squandering this opportunity.

Or maybe I could use the time in a different way. It could be exactly the opportunity I need.

“You want me to romance her?” I ask with a tilt of my lips that I hope comes across as blasé.

“I want you to do anything you must to get answers from her. Anything.”

I pause, careful not to appear eager. “As you wish,” I agree at last. I can’t hold back the smile this time but I don’t try, shifting it a bit to appear devious. Let her see my approval of her plans. She’s given me a better gift than I ever could have requested.

Now I have to figure out how to save Sifa, hopefully without exposing Tindera to the Dróttning’s wrath.