Page 19

19

COST

I feel it as Mikkel focuses all his intent upon the Amalienborg Palace in Copenhagen. Even as I heave hard breaths upon the white birch table in Baldur’s wrecked studio, trying to get my shit back together fast, I know Mikkel’s out for blood, and won’t be stopped this time.

Thanks to our new power-up with Baldur, I can feel where Mikkel’s heading. I see it through his own eyes now, as he flies right for the one man who has wronged him and his family his entire life.

The Jarl of Copenhagen.

But that ridiculously crafty, powerful Jarl can eat a solo drake like Mikkel for lunch any day, no matter how much new magic he’s packing. L?rke’s scream goes off inside me then, like a harpy trying to protect her brood, as she shifts up wherever they are.

I get a brief vision of the gilded top floor suite at the Forgyldt Bur in Copenhagen, Emil Beck’s hotel, wrecked now from Mikkel blasting off as his dragon—before I feel L?rke shift and roar off after him.

Thanks to my now superpowered bond to Mikkel, I can feel L?rke’s emotions through her natural bond to her twin. She’s terrified that Mikkel’s gone rogue, with no backup whatsoever, as he flies off to take out his infinite wrath upon Copenhagen’s Jarl. She’ll follow her brother to the end to protect him, however, and keep him safe.

As we now have two dragons we might lose, if we can’t jump in and save them—fast.

“ Rikyava!! We have a situation! ” Strom’s roar inside my mind is echoed in the real world by Bjorn, as he hammers in through Baldur’s studio door now, roaring in truth.

Fully recovered, my First Drake growls like a rampaging bear to see me and Baldur all twisted up together on the table, sweaty and wrecked from our recent coitus. His eyes are on fire with the scalding all-gold of his dragon as he comes to us, his furious gaze roving our scene.

But Bjorn only heaves hard breaths through his nose, keeping his shit together, despite how I’ve just fucked and bonded yet one more drake. Despite his rage, he knows the score; I feel the practical side of him understand we need Baldur’s magic in our mix—Bjorn needs it, even far more than anyone else, but he doesn’t have to like it.

Or what he sees, as he enters the ruined studio.

Bjorn strides forward now, scooping me up into his arms and ripping me from Baldur’s embrace. I feel Baldur power up protectively in response; for a moment, he and Bjorn face off in a towering surge of might as Baldur’s eyes go entirely white-hot opal and gold, ringed by crimson, for a fight.

I feel their auric dragons surge up, snarling at each other inside our bond. But as fast as it happens, Baldur suddenly backs off. Hauling everything of his dragon back in a masterful rush, Baldur checks himself.

Giving Bjorn a subtle nod, though I know it’s not over between them.

It’s not over by a long shot, as my First and Fourth Drake suddenly process a deep need to fight. As a hot rage seethes through my own veins too, from my bright inner drakaina, I know Bjorn and Baldur will have to have it out sometime, because they’re both part of the same magic.

As Blood Sages, both of their powers like to rage and roar for a fight; Baldur may have spent a thousand years honing his to a specific purpose, but that fire and rage is still inside him, hot like the starburst I know he truly is.

He concedes to Bjorn now, however, my chosen First Bloodmate; and I’m grateful, because we have something far worse on our hands right now than a drake’s pissing match.

We have a renegade Wraith, heading to Amalienborg Palace alone, with only L?rke to back him up. Mikkel’s going to get dead, or worse, even as Strom roars inside my head again, putting power so dark and consuming into it that my vision goes black for a moment as I swoon.

Bjorn has put me on my feet beside the table; catching me, he steadies me, even though Baldur has surged forward to help. With a dark growl, Bjorn warns him off.

As we all hear Strom roar through our minds now, Rikyava! You need to do everything in your power to get here, fast!!

“We need a portal. You make portals. Make us one. Now.” Bjorn is succinct as his searing all-gold gaze pins Baldur. My Fourth Drake lifts his eyebrows, but does not gainsay Bjorn, though he looks at me now for confirmation.

“You heard Bjorn. What can you do?” I ask, urgently. We’ve already come through countless portals of Baldur’s, so we know he can create them. Portal-making is a rare gift among dragons and comes only to those who have mastered the element of ether. I know Baldur has done that, thanks to the nature of his auric dragon and how much effortless control he has in the Void.

Not all portal-smiths are the same however; some take days to unleash their talents and create a portal, while others take mere moments. Some rely on complex ceremonies to craft that magic, while some extremely powerful dragons can make them de novo .

I’ve only seen a handful of dragons with those immense abilities in my life, however; my bestie, Layla Price, and her First Drake, Adrian Rhakvir. Their mortal enemy, Hunter, could also create them, though he was put down last year in a massive battle that smote the Red Letter Hotel Paris and scorched the skies. And we now know that our very own enemy Bone Mage drakaina can make them, who goes by the name Litha.

But what kind of portal, and how fast, are big questions we don’t know of Baldur yet. As he hesitates now, frowning, I know he’s not one who can make a portal from scratch anytime, anyplace.

He watches me with pensive blue-diamond eyes as a sudden dark fear takes me now, flooded with all the screaming darkness I’m feeling from Mikkel, hammering through my Bone Magic.

Baldur effortlessly wipes that fear away, however, as he bolsters me with light. It’s scorching and incredible, as he takes my darkness away. It’s not gone; I still know where it is. But it’s as if that darker side from my Bone Magic doesn’t control me anymore, as Baldur pins me with his gaze.

I remember who I am then, and all the brightness I bring to the world, as he stares me down. Baldur’s power synergizes with Bjorn’s as Bjorn wraps a strong arm around me now, corralling me to him, tight.

Because Bjorn knows we are not ones to shy away from a fight. We are not ones to cower in fear and darkness, as Baldur’s power agrees.

I feel their massive drakes come to a sudden truce inside me now, as we get ready for what’s next. They remind me of who I am: a bad bitch of a drakaina who takes no shit from anybody.

As that part of me snarls up high inside my veins now, blistering me with newfound firepower thanks to Baldur’s bonded magic, I feel Bjorn agree.

We’re bad bitches, all of us.

And the Jarl of Copenhagen will not have Mikkel without a fight.

“I can get us to Copenhagen,” Baldur says now as he gives a decisive nod. “Usually, I take a few days to prepare my energy to make a portal, but if you can give me everything you’ve got,” Baldur’s gaze snaps to Bjorn now, before looking back to me, “I just might be able to get us there, stat. ”

“Use Strom’s power, too, now that you can touch it through our bond. He’s a deeper wellspring of magic than you might think, for such a skinny fuck of a drake,” Bjorn says quickly to Baldur, as Baldur nods.

I don’t miss the subtle barb Bjorn’s thrown in there against Baldur, who is also a skinny fuck of a drake like Strom, though taller. Baldur ignores it, focusing on our task; he needs no second urging, as he powers up.

As a mighty storm of auric magic goes seething around the ruined studio, I blink to understand Baldur’s going to try to get us to Copenhagen right the fuck now. There will be no preparation, as his gaze pins me, molten like all the fires of the heavenly cosmos all at once.

All colors are in it now, as Bjorn releases me and rushes to seize our things in our fly-bags from the other room, then hauls ass back. Because Baldur is already going, thrusting his energy out into the Void, as he opens his hands and a thunderclap slams through the space.

It hurls paintings across the room, tossing brushes and paint in a whirlwind, as Baldur snarls in a terrible, vicious roar—something I never expected from him. He hammers his power through all of us now, sweeping us up and seizing all our magic into his auric fist as he powers up to take us through space.

Mikkel’s not in that swipe, as I feel Baldur work hard to exclude my Third Drake, since Mikkel will need all the power he’s got to stay alive right now against the Jarl of Copenhagen and his massive army.

But Baldur has seized Bjorn’s, Strom’s, and my dragons, as we’re all wrenched; Baldur uses not his grace but his raw power now, combined with all of ours, to thrust us through space.

It’s not nice, and it’s not pretty, as we’re all hammered through the weft and weave of worlds, straight to the Forgyldt Bur hotel. I feel us pop back from the most dreadful portal-traveling experience I’ve ever had, as I fall to my knees on the marble floor of the ruined top-floor suite, wrecked.

I dry heave, I retch; I shiver like someone tried to rip apart my very soul with that sudden, horrible portaling. Baldur got us here, though, as he dry heaves and collapses beside me on the floor.

Bjorn weathered that awful portaling best; as he crawls to me to check if I’m okay, I nod and swallow down bile. Bjorn crawls to Baldur next. He rolls the leaner man over, so Baldur’s not collapsed upon his face.

Baldur groans as I feel him snap out, unconscious.

“ That was impressive.” Strom is already at our sides. He helps me up, then extends a hand to help Bjorn. Now that we’re together again, I feel our massive power-up churning inside Strom’s flesh—and see it, making the crimson tattoo-dragon on his bare chest writhe. “Though… perhaps we shouldn’t repeat such a feat anytime soon.”

“I don’t think we will be able to,” I say now as I kiss Strom, grateful for him, then go back down on one knee to check Baldur.

He’s out, well and cold, as he breathes deep and slow. His body is silent, however, and I already feel his power recovering. Baldur’s gone into some sort of voluntary stasis; I feel how he’s thrust nearly all of himself out into the Void to regroup and recoup all the vast power that spontaneous portaling ripped from him just now.

“He’ll be alright,” I say with a deep instinct as Aesa’s Truthstone hums upon my chest. Checking Baldur’s pulse, I pause.

Then lean over, giving him a soft kiss right in front of my other drakes.

“Thank you. I owe you big time,” I whisper, before rising and giving him space to recover.

“ Herre Siguresson will recover quickly here in my establishment, I assure you.”

In all the commotion, I had missed Emil Beck, the proprietor of the Forgyldt Bur hotel, standing near us in the ruined suite. Immaculately coiffed as always, dressed in a sleek black tux with his black hair styled back in waves, Emil’s dark eyes are knowing as he moves forward now, effortlessly scooping Baldur up off the carpets and taking him to a red velvet scrollback couch.

“You two know each other?” My eyebrows rise as I blink at the hotel’s mysterious proprietor.

“We go back a decent way. Baldur and I are both in the True Black Dragon Knights, after all.” Emil smiles indulgently at me, before clapping his hands, brisk. He doesn’t explain his sudden revelation as he eyeballs all of us hard now.

“You four have a deep problem on your hands,” Emil continues as he pins us all with his eagle-eyed gaze, intent. “Mikkel and L?rke Thorsen are formidable dragons, but they are nothing compared to the Jarl of Copenhagen. Though even my own magics could not contain Mikkel just now, with your bonded Bloodwalker’s increase in power, the Jarl wields a force many thousands strong. Mikkel will fall, and his sister with him, if they assault our Jarl head-on—something I have always counseled them never to do, until the time was right. Unfortunately, the time is not right; Mikkel and L?rke’s empire is too scattered to assemble their forces quickly. And the Jarl keeps most of his strength right here, protecting his palace.”

“Shit.” Strom’s curse sums it up, as we all understand what Emil’s saying.

That the twins are fucked unless we can pull the proverbial rabbit out of our ass to save them.

“Right now, what you four need to do, before Mikkel can get himself and L?rke killed, assaulting Jarl Alexander Christensen’s palace, is fight in a coordinated attack,” Emil says as he looks at me, sharp. “You may leave all your things here; I will make certain they are well-protected until you get back. Together with my people, plus the Thorsen’s remaining dragons here in Copenhagen, we can?—”

Even as Emil speaks, I feel how we’re already too late, though. Because Mikkel and L?rke flew straight to Amalienborg Palace from Emil’s hotel; it’s not even that far a distance to drive, and dragons fly far faster than any car.

I feel an eruption of power from Mikkel now as he rains down an unholy hellfire of chartreuse green acid on the Jarl’s defenders. Winging around the palace and roaring his wrath to the early morning skies, Mikkel is a creature unhinged as he swipes and dives in, spewing ugly electric green death, then wings away.

Barreling and diving in intricate patterns that even one of Huttr’s Kingsguard would be proud of, Mikkel has skill when he fights. Still, I watch in horror as I see the battle through both his and L?rke’s eyes now, as she catches up to him.

L?rke’s shining white dragon with her chartreuse green markings roars as she zips through the morning, coming to Mikkel’s side to fight. I feel how L?rke is desperately battling to save her brother—because Mikkel’s gone. Only the snarling instinct of his terrible black drake is inside him as he roars and barrels through the skies to attack the Jarl’s ever-growing force.

Dragons are pouring out of the Jarl’s palace now, and every one of them is a fighter worthy of the Kingsguard. Mikkel has skills, but he’s not a career warrior; even L?rke, with all her quick thinking and vicious fury, is not a match for the Jarl’s efficient, brutal force.

In a matter of minutes, the Jarl’s personnel have Mikkel and L?rke tightly contained within a series of ever-tightening Bloodnets. Full of spiked projections as they heave more and more Bloodlances at the twins by the moment, the duo are having trouble dodging and barrel-rolling away from all those terrible projectiles now.

Even though they have their mind-powers, Mikkel swiping his head at a section of guards and making them drop from the skies by stunning their minds, as L?rke mind-paralyzes their bodies, it’s just too much.

And we’re too far away to help, as I see a barrage of projectiles skewer Mikkel now, right through his hind leg and tail.

Mikkel fights like a demon, even injured, roaring to the skies as that coordinated Bloodnet cinches in tight all around him. L?rke is also winged by a section of projectiles now, as the Bloodnet cinches in, catching them both .

The Thorsen twins roar as they thrash in distress, caught and plummeting from the skies.

Everything inside me screams as I watch my Fourth Drake and his twin get captured. I don’t realize Bjorn’s got me wrapped solidly in his strong arms, preventing me from shifting up and flying right to Mikkel, Berserk, until I feel Strom seize my face in his hands, pouring a tirade of his Bone Magic into me to calm me.

An exhausted Baldur jolts awake upon the couch now from his healing stasis, and I feel his sinewy hand seize mine. As Baldur pours the last of his exhausted magic into me, pulling me up into the Void where I can spend my power and not shift my flesh, I feel how my drakes desperately need me to stay sane.

If I fly off after Mikkel, responding to his wrath and doing what he and L?rke just did, then I’ll be no better than them. I’ll get caught too, trussed up just like a Thanksgiving turkey for the Jarl—who I have no clue if he’s friend or foe to someone born of the royal family.

We already know the Jarl has been no friend to Bloodwalkers and their mates over the ages. It leaves me in an impossible situation now, as I feel Mikkel get skewered by over a dozen Bloodspears, right through his belly and chest, to restrain him.

I scream, roaring, as Mikkel is pinned to the bloody ground by someone’s implacable power. That someone juts his chin and L?rke is hammered, knocked out by the strongest thrust of Bloodwind I’ve ever seen.

As the Jarl of Copenhagen finally comes into Mikkel’s strained view, my Fourth Drake fighting unconsciousness with everything he’s worth from the agony of all those barbed spears in his flesh, the Jarl stands strong.

Surrounded by two dozen massively impressive guard-drakes and drakainas, Jarl Alexander Christensen has the darkest, bloodiest red eyes I’ve ever seen on a Blood Dragon.

Of unimpressive stature, slender, and even with a bit of an aged stoop to his lean shoulders, the Jarl of Copenhagen has a short shock of dark hair streaked with silver and a neatly trimmed silver-black beard.

If my first impression of Mikkel was that he was a pirate, Alexander Christensen is twenty times that, looking the part of an aged marauder to a T. As Old Silverbeard stares down at Mikkel with the burning brimstone of his dragon hot in his eyes, I feel how he has no mercy.

And never did.

The Jarl snaps his fingers—and a Bloodlance of his own spontaneous make thrusts right through Mikkel’s right eye. I feel Mikkel’s scream; I feel how he shifts down fast to heal it with everything he’s got left.

Still, the view I see from that eye is filmy and indistinct as I find myself down on my knees in my knot of drakes, my hand clapped to my eye as I shriek and shriek, as well. Because somehow, that last Bloodlance of the Jarl’s speared not just Mikkel—but went right through his power and flesh, into our Bloodbond.

I got the brunt of it, as I fight to see now through my own watering eyes. I blink away hard tears as the Jarl of Copenhagen leans in, staring deeply into Mikkel’s eyes now. Jarl Alexander Christensen looks beyond my Bloodmate—seeing me, somehow, on the other side of our connection.

And smiling the most terrible, cat-got-the-cream smile I’ve ever seen.

“Dungeons.” Jarl Christensen snaps his fingers as he points to both Mikkel and the unconscious L?rke. “Let his Bloodwalker come to me to get him back. And if you do not, Bloodwalker,” he addresses me now, as he seizes Mikkel’s defiant chin in his iron-strong fingers, “I will execute them both, these unruly Thorsen twins. You have three days. And trust me… I will make their lives a living hell for every extra minute they spend in my palace, for their presumption in attacking me. Come and steal them back, if you can. But if you cannot… then their lives end, and not before I make them suffer.”

As Jarl Christensen snaps his fingers again, I feel one last Bloodlance skewer Mikkel right through the gut. Then he’s out, fully unconscious, as terror like I’ve never known shudders all through me.

Because I know what a demon of a dragon like the Jarl of Copenhagen will do to L?rke and my mate, and I also know that every extra minute we delay in rescuing them will cost them.

Far more than they’d ever hoped to pay.