Page 35

Chapter 34

M adan hated aerial fights—hated everything about them. From falling on purpose and trusting Brutis would catch him in time to dodging dragonfire and teeth almost as big as his arm. The worst part was that he had yet to experience it since his capture by Loren, and didn’t that create an entirely new problem? Only one useful hand certainly made things more difficult. There was no possibility of holding on while wielding a sword. Choosing one over the other in any situation was the difference between life and death.

Despite it all, Madan stood on Brutis’s back and watched Bhan tumble to the rocks below with a thunderous crash. Somewhere above them, Whelan and Oria were engaged with a teal dragon named Rekses and his dhemon bondheart, Thorill.

Brutis angled his nose up and gained altitude gradually so that Madan had time to lean forward and hook his amputated arm around the spike before him. They both knew Thorill was no match for Whelan.

It was Oria they worried about.

Green and blue locked together, silhouetted by the stars and moon, claws raking at one another in mid-flight. Oria’s smaller frame fit too perfectly into Rekses’ hold, so when his massive jaws opened to grab her long, slender neck, Madan’s heart stuttered.

“ Oria , duck !” Madan called as Brutis pumped his powerful wings and shot through the air toward the entangled mass of scaled limbs.

The green dragon followed the order with grace, leaving an opening for Brutis to lock maws with Rekses. The latter’s grip on Oria loosened, and with the teal dragon distracted, she dove, then snaked around behind him.

“ Get ready to catch me .” Whelan leaped from Oria onto Rekses’s back haunches as she passed by and began picking his way up the dragon’s long spine. “ Brutis , keep him level .”

Thorill met Whelan halfway down the great teal dragon’s back, a wicked blade in his hand. They flashed in and out of sight as Madan did his best to just hold on and not distract Brutis as his bondheart kept Rekses from tossing his mate into the dark void below.

A deep violet streak whipped by with Azriel and Razer close behind. So the last of Ehrun’s cronies was Arthin on his bondheart, Fasj. A pity, really. Arthin had been one of the few dhemons who had been kind to Madan at Auhla , and Fasj was beautiful and hated everything to do with battle; she’d often refused to join raids because of it.

Under Ehrun’s rule, though, there would be no room for refusal.

But with the three dragons and riders identified, that left Madan with a deeper worry: where was Ehrun?

“ Have you seen Sehrox ?” Madan asked Azriel as their connection strengthened with proximity. He leaned to one side in the hopes of watching his brother, arm aching from wrapping around the spike for so long.

Azriel, however, didn’t reply. He ran down Razer’s extended neck to where the dragon could toss his head, sending his brother soaring through the air to land on Fasj’s back. Swinging his arms for balance, he stumbled and almost immediately fell as Arthin swung two long knives in his direction. Then they were gone, flying out of view.

Pain lanced through Madan at the same moment Brutis jerked to the side—sudden and sharp as though pierced by a blade in the shoulder. His grip on his sword loosened in response before he found Rekses had disengaged the head-on struggle and slammed his mouth closed around Brutis’s shoulder behind him.

Roaring, Brutis resisted the urge to spin. The deep desire to do so overlapped with the agony of those long teeth puncturing through his scales. Instead, he twisted his head, taking Madan along with him, and bit the top of the enemy dragon’s neck, spikes be damned.

More pain seared through the roof of Madan’s mouth as those spikes dug into Brutis’s hard palate. He cursed aloud, hoping the sudden jerky movements didn’t dislodge Whelan from his fight on Rekses’s back.

Adjusting his awkward hold, Madan lowered his center of gravity and pinched Brutis’s neck with his knees to keep from flying off. He winced again as Rekses threw his head back, taking with him a large piece of Brutis’s shoulder.

“ Hang in there ,” Madan said, stifling a grunt of his own at the echo of Brutis’s pain. “ You can do this .”

Brutis growled and yanked his own head back, tearing into Rekses’s neck. The wild motion almost tossed Madan from his makeshift seat. He scrambled to hold on, the blade of his sword screeching across his bondheart’s scales.

The next thing Madan saw was Whelan yanking a hatchet from a fallen Thorill’s belt before giving the dhemon a solid kick. Thorill rolled from the dragon, his missing leg coming into view in the rapid movement. In response, Rekses tore away from Brutis and dove to catch his bondheart. Dhemons didn’t heal as fast as vampires, but such a wound wasn’t always a death sentence.

Whelan, however, didn’t jump free of Rekses. Instead, he grabbed onto the massive beast’s wing and started hacking at the joint connecting it to the body with the hatchet, his beautiful face screwed up with determination.

Rekses roared and rolled, tossing Whelan free just before grabbing his bondheart. The damaged wing floundered but kept level enough for the dragon to bank hard and shoot into the distance. Between both their injuries, Madan wasn’t certain they would live to see morning. He hoped they didn’t.

The more who died now meant less to kill later.

In a flash of green, Oria swept by. She dove for Whelan, scooping him onto her back, where he rolled to a halt just behind the wing joints. He tucked the hatchet into his own belt and grabbed onto the nearest spike, hauling himself into place on his bondheart’s back. Blood whipped into the wind from a fresh wound across his face and another at his side, which he clutched with a grimace.

“ Are you alright ?” Madan asked, heart stuttering at the sight.

Whelan turned to look back at him and nodded once. “ Nothing that will kill me .”

That wasn’t particularly comforting, but Madan accepted it for what it was: reassurance that he didn’t need to panic. Yet.

But it wasn’t Rekses or Fasj who worried him most. With Bhan dead, Rekses in limbo, and Fasj being hunted by Azriel and Razer, the true threat lingered somewhere in the night sky. Why Ehrun hadn’t engaged with any of them yet, Madan didn’t know. What could waiting possibly do for him?

So Madan opened his mental connection outside his typical sphere of consciousness and searched for Ehrun and Sehrox. The two had to be nearby, watching the battle from a position of power like a general overseeing the field on which his soldiers died.

When he located them, however, they were farther away than he expected. Madan twisted around on Brutis’s back and looked in the direction he felt them.

Fuck. Fuck .

He grappled for his brother’s mind. “ Azriel .”

Nothing. Pure hatred and focus kept Azriel from engaging in conversation. Madan turned to find Razer crashing down on top of Fasj. His brother and Arthin were launched into the air as the massive blue dragon sent the smaller violet spiraling.

Seemingly unperturbed by the sudden weightlessness, Azriel grabbed Arthin and yanked him closer. The two dhemons fell together, making Madan’s stomach lurch into his throat at the very sight of it.

“ Fucking idiot .” Madan cursed and urged Brutis towards them. With Razer distracted as he tore into Fasj, they careened after Azriel as the suspension ended, and he careened toward the rocky peaks below.

Brutis closed his foreclaw around Madan’s brother, effectively dragging him out of his fight with Arthin. But with Fasj fending off Razer, the dhemon adversary screamed as he fell into a crevice between sheer mountain cliffs. He disappeared into the darkness before a sickening smack echoed up from the depths.

It was in tandem with that bone-breaking sound that Fasj shrieked. She floundered, wings seizing in mid-flight, and her eyes rolling into the back of her head as she writhed.

“ Razer — stop !” Madan called before the great blue dragon could rip the violet’s exposed throat out. “ If she lives , we can use her .”

“ You think she’ll let us command her after killing her bondheart ?” Azriel snapped from where he dangled in Brutis’s claw. If not for the seriousness of their current situation, the image of him hanging from a dragon in such a haphazard way would’ve made Madan laugh.

Madan’s heart raced at the possibility of a vengeful dragon. “ She never wanted to fight .”

Another feeble cry from Fasj echoed off the stones as she landed on wobbling legs. She hung her head over the edge of the crevice and called for her bondheart to no avail. If Arthin somehow survived the fall, he wouldn’t live long with how broken his body would be.

“ Think of Mhorn ,” Madan added.

“ Mhorn wants Sehrox dead .” Azriel fell from Brutis’s claw as the green dragon released him. He landed on Razer’s back as his bondheart swept below.

Whelan cut in. “ I know where Ehrun is .”

The words made Madan’s stomach drop. He’d had an inkling of where the bastard could be, but the idea of it only terrified him.

Before he could ask for clarification, a live image of the great bronze dragon took over Madan’s vision. By Azriel’s sudden jolt of tension through their connection, he also saw the wicked duo as they took flight from a tall ridge and shot down the side of the mountain.

“ He’s been searching for Ariadne ,” Whelan said.

The confirmation of his fear had Madan cursing. But Azriel and Razer shot away without a sound in the direction that would head off the pair, leaving Fasj behind. Neither spoke; they were of one mind with only one goal: keep Ariadne safe.

“ How do you know ?” Madan asked Whelan, hoping what he’d felt and his partner had seen had been mere coincidences.

Whelan didn’t respond for a long moment, then said. “ Someone just came out of the cave .”

“ Who ?” He grit his teeth. His sister could be just as stubborn as Azriel sometimes, and he could see her trying to create some sort of distraction for Ehrun in a way to aid their cause. The two of them combined truly made his life more difficult.

Uncertainty rolled through their connection. “ I can only see the heat signature . A woman , by the size of it .”

Brutis turned to follow Razer, leaving Fasj to mourn and overcome her loss on her own—if, of course, she could sever that vinculum before it took her with Arthin. They’d need all of them together to face off with Sehrox.

“ But …” Whelan’s voice trailed away.

Rather than explain what he saw, he showed Madan through his eyes. No less than two dozen heat signatures were moving toward the tomb’s entrance through the forest below. They’d have recently left the nearby highway after no doubt spotting the shapes and blasts of fire in the distant sky. No one in Valenul, not even foreign merchants, traveled in such large groups.

No one except soldiers of Valenul.

And a singular heat signature, their heart racing, emerged from the cave. Whoever it was stopped as though to gather their wits…then descended the steep rocky hills between them and the soldiers alone.

Someone was going to head them off—possibly lead them away. Madan could only throw a haphazard prayer to Keon that the soldiers would listen. Perhaps it was Edira. The spice merchant had a silver tongue and appeared more than capable of convincing hotheaded Valenul soldiers to turn back.

Madan turned away, tamping down the fear rising in his chest. It was, after all, unnecessary. His sisters wouldn’t dare offer themselves up to Loren’s pets. Not when they were all so, so close to figuring everything out.

And Ariadne wouldn’t dream of leaving Azriel…right?

“ Keep it together ,” Brutis said.

Whelan’s consciousness brushed against his in agreement. “ Let’s finish this fast, and then we’ll find out what’s going on . Azriel needs us right now .”

Stomach knotting, Madan agreed. Then, he and Brutis made their way towards Sehrox.

“Ari!” Emillie grabbed her sister’s arm as Ariadne turned from the spring and yanked her back, heart cracking. They had just found one another. How could she even consider leaving already? “Please stay.”

But her sister did not look back. She kept her eyes trained ahead, beyond the gathered fae, as though that alone was what kept her from acquiescing to Emillie’s pleas. Her voice sounded distant as she said, “They cannot find this place.”

“They will take you to him .”

“We can fight them,” Luce declared, her dark skin almost rippling with the promise of a transformation. Her golden eyes bore into Emillie, finding the misery there and making the lycan stand a little straighter. “We can kill them, and then we will have nothing to worry about.”

Pol stepped forward, searching Ariadne’s face. “If I close the cave, they won’t find it. I promise you that.”

Even Edira appeared hopeful. “We can meet them outside and show them it’s just us merchants. They won’t question it.”

So many wonderful suggestions. So many ways they could escape this horrible possibility of them being torn apart again. All valid concepts to consider and routes to take. Ariadne had nothing to worry about so long as the fae were on their side.

Emillie’s mind whirled. If they fought the vampires, there was the possibility of some of them dying. She did not like the sound of that, particularly when she could not even defend herself. The end result would be more pain than if they had avoided it all together. If they all attempted to hide, the vampires would not be fooled what with their carried supplies being left in that first cave. They would likely locate and take the horses and food, and then they would be left with nothing. If the fae went out to confront them and claimed to be merely camping for the night, they could ease suspicions—even if it only lasted a while.

“Send Edira,” Emillie said, pleading now as she tightened her hold on her sister’s arm. “She can talk sense into anyone. They will leave us alone.”

That made Ariadne turn back to her, eyes lined with silver at what she had convinced herself she had to do. “We need that book if we are to ever fix anything.”

“I know.” Emillie pulled her back a step. “I know. We will get it as soon as we make Loren pay for what—”

“No.” Ariadne shook her head and twisted her arm, pulling it free with practiced ease. Where once her sister would have crumpled at the mere tug of her arm, she now maneuvered as though such things never bothered her. “We need it first . We need it now .”

Haen stepped forward, the quiet fae lending their voice of wisdom. “We have knowledge of fae rituals. We can piece it together on our own for you. The book isn’t necessary.”

Nodding, Zeke said, “I’ve read of these things many times. Let us help you. I’m confident that, given time, we can uncover it.”

Tears fell from Ariadne’s eyes—the same eyes reflected back at Emillie anytime she looked in the mirror. “He has Revelie, Em. He probably has Camilla, too. He has been torturing them to get to us, and I will not let him hurt them anymore.”

Brows furrowing, Emillie racked her brain for where this information could be coming from. It was not as though such things would be common knowledge—Loren preferred to plot in secret rather than expose it to all of Valenul. “How do you know this?”

“When we went to Armington,” Ariadne explained, “there was a box with a message for you. For us . It had Revelie’s finger in it.”

Bile rose in Emillie’s throat. Gods. Loren was, by far, the most wretched man she had ever had the displeasure of meeting. Yet the very idea that he would do something so cruel was a shock even to her. Killing their father as a part of a coup was one thing—expected, even, if he wished to take control of the kingdom. Hurting an innocent woman who had nothing to do with what they had done or planned to do was something completely different.

“Are you certain it was hers?”

Ariadne chewed her lip. “I am positive.”

Considering the new information, Emillie’s heart ached as she understood what needed to happen. “Let me go, then. I know where the book is, and my presence will be enough to keep Loren satisfied for now. Perhaps it will be enough to keep him from continuing his hunt for you.”

Beside her, Luce let out a strangled sound. She grabbed Emillie’s upper arm and held firm, fingers digging in painfully. “I won’t let you go to someone like that. Not with what he’s already done. I can’t…”

She looked up at the lycan in shock. Was that true fear in her eyes? “Luce…”

But Ariadne shook her head nonetheless, seemingly prepared to stop her just as surely as the lycan. “You sacrificed so much for me already. I will not allow it again.”

“This is not about exchanging sacrifices.”

“You are right.” Ariadne stood a little straighter, then winced. She sucked in a sharp breath and pressed her fingertips against her forehead for a long moment, teeth gritted hard.

“What is it?” Emillie stepped closer despite Luce’s vice-like grip on her arm.

Another shake of her sister’s head, then Ariadne fumbled with a long chain about her neck. She pressed something strange and cool into the palm of Emillie’s hand. “Keep this safe for me.”

The words made no sense. Emillie looked at the black stone necklace in her hand, hating the way it felt against her skin. Cold, yet warm. Heavy despite its small size. Everything about it was…wrong.

Then Edira winced, not unlike Ariadne, and looked into the room filled with broken dragon eggs. A breath later, a sharp snap rang out from the last massive stone-like monolith. It shook, and a crack arched out from the top, splintering like lightning.

Haen turned their wide eyes to their sister. “What is happening?”

“The dragon hatchling is awake,” Edira said, shifting her attention back to Ariadne. “It’s calling to you.”

At that, Ariadne cursed, and before anyone could say another word, she turned on her toes and ran past the huge egg. She only made it halfway across the room, however, before stumbling with a yelp. A loud smack echoed through the cavern as she caught herself on her palms and growled in frustration. Shaking her head, Ariadne pushed off into a run again.

“What does that mean?” Emillie asked Edira in a shrill voice, trying to follow after her sister just to be pulled back by Luce. Her heart crashed against her ribs, and she turned from the cracking egg to the spice merchant, repeating, louder this time, “What does that mean, Edira?”

But the high fae shook her head with a strained grimace as another crack splintered the shell. This time, a piece tumbled out and shattered as it hit the stone floor.

“Ari!” Emillie tried to jerk her arm out of Luce’s grip as her sister had done, to no avail. The lycan hauled her back.

“I won’t let you go,” Luce said in her ear and wrapped another arm around her middle. Her voice cracked as she added, “I can’t let you go.”

At the far side of the room, Ariadne paused to look back at the egg. She frowned and screwed her face up against whatever pain was running through her. Then, without another word, she disappeared up the passage.

“Bring her back!” Emillie yelled, looking to Pol, then Zeke, then Haen and the other lycans. None of them moved. None of them made to follow her stupid, thick-headed sister with her ridiculous notion of heroism. The longer they remained, though, the more frantic she grew. “Please! Do not let her go!”

But Zeke gave her a sorrowful look. “I won’t stand in her way. This is the fastest path for her to get that ritual. It could take weeks or months for us to recreate it.”

“Fuck the ritual,” Emillie snarled. “Loren will kill her. What does that ritual matter if she is dead ?”

“In that case, it may not help her,” Edira said after closing off whatever mental connection she had with the slowly-emerging dragon hatchling, “but it will help the dhemons. Reconnecting them to Keon means they won’t suffer from being separated from their mates anymore.”

Emillie’s heart sank even more. “But Azriel will, and we need him. Please .”

Still, no one moved.

She turned in Luce’s arms. Gods, they were so close. How long had she wanted the lycan to hold her like this only to have it be at the least opportune time? “Please…my sister needs my help.”

The lycan seemed to fight some internal battle before her grip slowly loosened. Those golden eyes searched Emillie’s face for a long moment, fear glinting there even as she inclined her head with acceptance. Their faces lingered a mere breath apart.

Lips parting, Emillie inhaled deep, wanting so desperately to push her mouth against the lycan’s. But she could not. Not now when the chance to stop her sister was slipping away. So rather than indulge in the fantasy that had played in her mind for so many nights, Emillie turned to take off after her sister.

The egg burst open at her approach, and a horse-sized dragon with shining, opalescent scales tumbled free. At first, the beast appeared to be nothing but a tangle of long limbs. When it unfurled, standing to block their path into the far cavern, its pure black eyes fixed on Emillie before swiveling to Edira in confusion.

Then, before any of them could react, it bared its long teeth and lunged.