Page 62 of Valor’s Flight (The New Protectorate #5)

Chapter Forty-One

The hair rose on the back of his neck. He glanced to his left and found the many black eyes of an old, skinny birch tree staring back at him.

The forest around his Chosen’s land had been soaked in nymph blood and magic for over a century.

It hadn’t protected her grove when the shifters attacked, when they were new to the land and its power, but he wondered what it was capable of doing now for the lone steward that had loved it for so long.

Mentally crossing his fingers that the forest was capable of doing more than causing a twisted ankle, Taevas crouched low and moved as quickly as he was able around the back of the barn. He circled around to the side that had taken the most damage when he arrived.

Half the roof had caved in on top of the old rusted pick-up truck Alashiya said belonged to her grandparents.

He’d briefly considered attempting to repair it, but after moving some debris and peeking under the hood, he’d been forced to set the plan aside.

Taevas was good with politics, computers, and wood.

Not mechanics. Even if he had the parts, he didn’t have the first idea where to start on an engine that hadn’t been touched in over forty years.

That didn’t mean the truck was useless, however.

Ducking under fallen beams and the half-crumbled wall, Taevas used it for cover as he slipped inside the barn. It went against his instincts, but he swung the bolt rifle over his shoulder, allowing him to move more easily amongst the rubble and a lifetime of discarded objects.

Putting himself into position, Taevas fished in his pocket for the suppressant. He kept his gaze on the cracked door of the barn, where he could just make out Sergei’s broad shape, as he used his thumb claw to flick the cap off the syringe.

The itch to pull the rifle over his shoulder and aim…

I can’t. He’d probably survive it, and then I’d lose every advantage I have.

Dragons didn’t have the tough skin of elves or gargoyles, but they could take a hit. Unless he went for a head shot, instinct would see Sergei shift instantly, limiting the damage, and effectively destroying Taevas’s entire plan.

So instead of taking the shot, he sucked in a deep breath and groped behind him for the ancient tool box he’d become so familiar with during his stay.

His fingers closed around a handful of screws. Like he did with the guard by the SUV, he tossed all but one of the screws into the darkness. They clattered against old, moth-eaten furniture and rusted farm equipment.

Taevas pressed the back of his head against a beam and prayed that he was out of sight and that Sergei wouldn’t do the smart thing, which was to shift at the first sign of trouble.

It was impossible to tell at first. The sound of the door being pushed open could’ve come from talons or a tail. Taevas didn’t dare lean out of his hiding spot to check. He was forced to wait and listen.

The sound of a boot scuffing against the dusty floor made him smile.

Sergei moved just out of sight, every heavy footfall telling his progress as he tried to hunt the source of the noise.

Taevas’s hiding place was in a far corner, where Alashiya’s grandfather’s workbench had been nearly swallowed by stacks of boxes, crates, and a couch propped up against a wall and a beam.

The shadows were dark and the smells of dust and mold were overpowering.

For Sergei to spot him there, he’d need to come close — which was exactly what Taevas wanted.

Taking yet another risk, he flicked the last of his screws a little bit ahead and to the right of his hiding spot. The noise it made was soft, but dragon ears were keen.

Sergei had barely taken a step past the dusty couch before Taevas moved. The needle of the syringe was just a silver flash as it sank into the meat of the blue dragon’s bicep.

Slamming the plunger down, Taevas narrowly dodged a swipe at his head. He wasn’t quite so lucky with the punch aimed at his ribs. Freshly healed, they cracked instantly.

“Fuck!” Sergei snarled, going in for another hit. “You are so much more trouble than you’re worth!”

White spots floated in front of his eyes as they grappled in the tight space.

Sergei had more weight on him, which was an advantage in the close quarters, but Taevas knew the barn.

He wasn’t sure how long it would take for the suppressants to kick in, so he had to keep them in a confined area that wouldn’t allow Sergei to shift.

Twisting to one side, he used Sergei’s momentum to slam his side into the sturdy workbench.

From somewhere outside the barn, a man’s scream broke the quiet of the night before it was cut off abruptly.

Taevas threw his entire weight behind a punch to Sergei’s kidney. Speaking through gritted teeth, he demanded, “Who are you?”

“What? Don’t recognize me?” Sergei kicked Taevas’s thigh at a harsh angle, making him stagger back as he fought to keep his balance. Face twisted in a furious grimace, Sergei spat, “You really don’t fucking know who I am?”

Taevas raised his arms, blocking a rain of heavy blows until there was enough of an opening to land a jab to Sergei’s throat. The bigger dragon choked, his eyes bulging, as Taevas whipped his elbow across his face to shatter his nose.

“You look like one of Jaak’s boys,” he grunted, shoving Sergei far enough away that he could bring the rifle back over his shoulder.

Aiming it at his head, Taevas breathed through the pain in his ribs, face, and wings.

“It’s hard to say, though, since he had so many of them.

What number was your mother, huh? Was she the fifth Chosen?

The tenth? They never seemed to last long. ”

Sergei gripped the edge of the work bench. His face was a mask of horror — all blood and fangs and fury. His chest rose and fell with huge, labored breaths when he snarled, “Don’t talk about my fucking mother!”

“No, you’re right. That isn’t fair. She wasn’t actually his Chosen, was she? None of them were. He treated his women like he treated the rest of us — like they were disposable.” Arching his brows, he asked, “You aren’t here to get revenge for that son of a bitch, are you?”

Sergei swiped the space beneath his nose. Blood smeared across his night-darkened cheek in a grisly swipe. “You know, you’ve always talked too much. I found you a lot more tolerable when you were drugged.”

Taevas flicked the safety off. The hum of the plasma cartridge coming online filled the dusty air. “Sorry, I’m just trying to get a read on the dragon stupid enough to kidnap me. What was the plan, Sergei?”

A blue glow lit the backs of Sergei’s bloody teeth. Even in such a tight space, it was obvious he wanted to shift. His muscles bunched and Taevas’s finger inched toward the trigger, but nothing happened.

A cruel sense of pleasure washed through him as he watched the realization flash in Sergei’s eyes.

There would be no shifting. No more surprises. They were on equal ground now.

“I knew I should’ve just killed you,” Sergei growled.

“Sounds like you really don’t like me. Must be because I killed your daddy.

” A bitter taste flooded Taevas’s mouth.

“You know, I always wondered if any of his offspring would come after me. People told me I should keep an eye on all of you just in case, but I thought it just wasn’t fair to judge all of you based on what your father did. I guess that was naive of me.”

The strong tendons on either side of Sergei’s neck stood out sharply when he snarled, “You think you were merciful? That you were kind to let us just disappear?”

“When the alternative was banishing innocent children from the ’Riik in the middle of a war? Yeah, I think I was right.”

Sergei was silent for a beat. “Good gods, you really think that, don’t you? That you did us a favor.”

Tamping down his rising impatience, Taevas held his aim directly between the bases of Sergei’s shiny horns when he asked, “Seems you don’t agree with me. I’d love to hear why.”

“You took everything from me. Isn’t that enough?” A smile twisted Sergei’s bloody lips as he leaned forward, fearlessly putting him even closer to the business end of the rifle. “And now I’m going to take everything from you. Including that pretty nymph you’ve been nesting with.”

A flash of icy fury passed over every inch of Taevas’s body. Gripping the gun, he softly asked, “Is that so?”

“I thought I smelled something familiar on her, but I was distracted by everything else. How soft she is. How good she’ll look in my nest. How it’ll fucking kill you when she’s carrying my—”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll stop caring about the ethics of executing you right here, right now.

” Taevas had to work hard to keep his breathing under control.

Everything in him wanted to strike out and eliminate the threat.

“I saw how your father treated his Chosens. You want Alashiya? You’ll have to kill me first.”

Sergei hadn’t exactly seemed calm and reasonable before, but something changed in his expression. It morphed into the kind of rage that men struggled to come back from.

Eyes wide and veins tracing paths across his temples, he hissed, “I am not my fucking father!”

Interesting.

Taevas took half a step back, his mind whirring. That didn’t sound like someone who’d come for revenge on Jaak’s behalf. It sounded an awful lot like someone who hated the old Isand almost as much as Taevas did.

Knowing it was probably only a matter of seconds before one or all of Sergei’s backup came running to the barn, Taevas tossed out, “You got a problem with Jaak? Weird that you’d throw everything away to get revenge on his behalf.”

“I’m not here for him,” Sergei hissed. “I’m here for my mother.”

“What on Burden’s Earth did I do to—”

A cacophony outside the barn cut him off. It was the roar of an engine tearing through foliage, the screech of tires, and a man’s furious shout. Before Taevas could even begin to wonder what had happened, Sergei lunged for the rifle.

They wrestled, stumbling and lurching toward the barn’s entrance. Aware that if either of them got a shot off at this close range there was a fifty-fifty chance he’d be hit, Taevas desperately tried to put some space between them.

They burst out the rotting door and into the yard. Sergei barreled down on him, using his weight to force Taevas off balance and release his grip on the rifle. The glare of headlights illuminated the yard, casting the two bloody dragons in a spotlight as they fought for control over the weapon.

There was no time to wonder who was behind the wheel or if that shape on the ground was Monty, crumpled and missing his hat. Taevas’s sole focus was on Sergei, until his opponent’s tail swiped around to hook on the base of one of his wings.

One hard jerk was all it took. Agony unlike anything he’d felt before brought Taevas to his knees. His grip on the gun spasmed as Sergei ripped it from his hands.

The whine of the rifle going off wasn’t as loud as a shotgun’s blast, but it was no less devastating in its impact. He didn’t feel the pain of the shot as he fell backward into the grass, however, he did feel something when he watched the SUV surge forward and slam full-force into Sergei.

Staring blankly at a dusty tire, Taevas could only listen to a door opening, the nearly silent tread of swift footsteps over grass, and the cocking of an old shotgun.

A high, trembling voice made him shudder with equal parts relief and fear. “If you killed my husband, I swear to every god listening that next time I find you, I’ll shoot something you’ll never be able to fix.”

The crack of the shotgun rang in his ears, blocking out everything else. His vision darkened, but he forced himself to hold on and ignore the pain starting to lick across every nerve like dragonfire until he felt the cool touch of his Chosen’s fingers on his cheek.

“Oh, gods, Taevas!” His name came out ragged but so, so sweet.

“Kill him?” he wheezed, trying to get his eyes to focus on her blurry outline.

Alashiya was close to him. So wonderfully close. Her hands were everywhere, probably looking for some way to help, but there was little to be done for a bolt shot.

“N-no,” she gasped, “I only got him a little. I—”

Searching for her hand with fingers that were beginning to go numb, he slurred, “Left pocket. Sedatives.”

“Sedatives? Why do— For Sergei?”

“Can’t follow.”

He must’ve lost consciousness for a minute, because he couldn’t recall any questions or arguments before feeling her extracting one of the sedative syringes from his pocket. That was very unlike her. His queen always argued with him. It was one of his favorite things about her.

Time moved strangely as his body went into shock. It felt like little more than a moment but also a very long time before she came back to him, speaking quickly to assure him that she’d done it. There were tears in her voice. He absolutely loathed that.

“Shh, no crying,” he murmured. “You can’t drive if you’re crying.”

“Oh gods, you’re right. I need to get you to the ranger’s station or— or a…”

“No.” Taevas found her wrist and held it fast. “You need to… we need to go to the ’Riik. Don’t trust anyone. No one but clan or Wing.”

“That’s hours and hours away!” A note of raw hysteria had entered her voice. “Taevas, you could die!”

“Won’t.” At least, he was pretty sure. It wasn’t like it was the first time he’d been shot, so he was fairly certain he would be able to tell if he was about to die. Probably.

Soft hands clutched his cheeks, holding tight. “How do you know? Tell me how you know!”

“Because,” he breathed, “I just found you.”