by Bec McMaster
He captured her mouth in a swift, furious kiss.
The sound of her gasp echoed through him, but two seconds later she was kissing him back. Hot. Hard. Furious. Her fist clenching in the collar of his shirt.
She tasted like honey, and every hard inch of her softened as he drove his tongue against hers. Fuck. Even the feel of her capitulation came with a challenge, for her hands were sliding down his chest, her nails raking over his abdomen.
And though he might be the aggressor, she bit his lower lip as if to prove she’d be no easy conquest.
Tormund drew back, breathing fiercely. Every inch of his hard cock demanded he finish this, but a dreki bugled in the distance as if to remind them this wasn’t over yet. Of all the worst fucking timing….
“Later,” he said in a deep voice as Bryn gasped and slumped against his chest. “As much as I’d like to thank you properly, you may have to carry me up that hill. We’ve got a dreki princess to find.”
And then, he was going to finish what they’d started.
Ten
The storm whirled, battering dreki out of the skies.
Sirius cut through the winds like a scythe, his claws ripping and tearing as he threatened precious wings. When they turned on him, he hurled pellets of ice at them, riding the storm with a howling laugh until they finally tucked tail and fled, no doubt fearing his hard-earned reputation.
All but one.
The pair of them circled each other like mirror images, though she was far smaller than he was. It didn’t make her any less deadly. Sirius could see the merciless glint in her eyes and the razor-sharp claws on the tips of her feet. She alone had withstood his magic, watching from a distance as if trying to learn his defenses before she’d glided toward him.
The hail died.
The storm abated, thunder grumbling into the distance.
It wasn’t as though he’d meant to lower his defenses, but the churn of emotion within him was almost enough to choke his grasp on the storm.
And perhaps there was some lingering curiosity within him, an urge to demand answers from her.
He reached toward her with a psychic thread, offering a connection she accepted.
“Hello. Mother.”
The dreki queen broke the connection sharply, pinwheeling down to the mainland. Sirius followed, though he kept a watchful eye on the horizon. It was highly unusual for a dreki queen to go unguarded, though perhaps they thought him weak enough with emotion that he wouldn’t attack her.
If so, then they thought wrong.
He merely wanted answers before he decided what to do.
They both landed and shifted into mortal form.
Zorja stared at him. Shock darkened her pupils. “Sirius,” she breathed.
It was like staring at a smaller, more feminine version of himself. He’d always been told he’d inherited her piercing eyes and sulky mouth, but to see her in the flesh….
His heart—that long dead beast that only stirred at the sound of Malin’s name—skipped a beat. Treacherous thing. But how could it not? He remembered this woman, though her features had been long blurred by time. It all came flooding back; the sound of her hum as she brushed his hair; the smell of her, a scent that reminded him of warmth and sunshine and soft hugs; and the memory of her voice as she read to him from the enormous book of fairy tales that he’d long since given to Malin.
She abandoned you.
She walked away from you when you were five, leaving you to your father’s so-called mercies.
And his heart, beating faster than he could ever recall, squeezed in his chest.
“In the flesh,” he sneered.
“I’m surprised you know the rules of parlay,” she told him, “considering how viciously you’ve been tearing my guards from the skies.”
“Honor demands I at least meet you,” he told her with a snarl.
“Ah, the renowned honor of the Zini clan. Both its strength and its weakness.”
“It was where I was raised. What else would I know?” A nasty smile curled over his mouth. “A mother’s embrace? A mother’s love?”
Zorja stilled. “I gave you what I could.”
He circled her. “Forgive me if I found it lacking. Your eldest son is dead.”
There was a hint of sadness in her eyes. “So I have heard on the wind. Tell me… was it a good death?”
“A good death for a vile creature. Magnus took after his father.”
Zorja’s mouth worked, but then she shut it and lifted her chin.
“If you had been there—” He shut his mouth abruptly. The words were too sharp to do anything other than betray him. “Stellan had the means to mold Magnus into a monster. If he’d had a mother, then he may not have turned out as such. The only thing I mourn is the chance my brother never had to avoid his fate.”
“I fulfilled my part of the bargain between your father and myself. I gave him two sons—”
“And Father gave you a throne.” He took a menacing step toward her. “Tell me, was it worth it?”
Zorja tilted her chin regally. “You understand nothing. Do you think I did this for a crown? I did this because I was saving a child Queen Amadea had sentenced to death. You were my son, but your father would never have hurt you. You were his gift to the world, his reason to live, and he would never have let you go with me. The child had no one and nothing. I did what I did to save her.”
Ishtar.
He could still remember his father bringing the squalling child into their rooms, determined to put it to death on the queen’s orders. His mother had raged against Stellan, arguing that the Goddess had given the girl life.
“She’s just a baby,” Zorja had told Stellan. “This is wrong, and you know it.”
It was the only time Sirius had ever seen his father falter as he looked down into the face of the screaming child in his arms. “She’s so little,” he’d whispered, before his face had hardened. “So little and so wrong. We cannot allow this monstrosity to live.”
Zorja had sent Sirius to bed, but he’d heard them arguing for half the night.
And in the morning, both his mother and the child were gone.
His father never spoke her name again. He never even mentioned the child. And Sirius had long thought the odd moment of guilt he saw in Stellan’s eyes had to do with murdering an innocent baby.
He had never dared dream that his mother had stolen the child and vanished into the winds, while his father kept the truth to himself.
“So you left me with him,” he whispered, staring into her face. “I don’t think you understood my father at all.” He stepped forward until he towered over her. “He tried to kill me. Do you see the mess of my eye? My father allowed this. My aunt ordered it. And you left me there, defenseless against her twisted influence.”
For the first time, the defiance in Zorja’s face gave way to doubt. “I thought you would be safe. He adored you.”
“You didn’t care about me or Magnus at all,” he corrected. “We were but your means to uphold a mating contract. You never even tried to contact either of us once you walked away.”
“That wasn’t true. I tried. Your father wouldn’t let me.” For the first time, doubt turned her blue eyes stormy. “She was a baby, just a little baby. I couldn’t let them kill her, no matter what I had to do.”
“You expect me to believe there was a single hint of a motherly heart in your chest? You expect me to believe my father stopped you from taking us? You are Zorja of the Ikkibu clan. I’ve heard your name whispered throughout the dreki courts. The Queen of the Iron Teeth. The Queen Without A Heart. To fly against you or yours is to risk annihilation. You have never shown your enemies one ounce of mercy.”
“Says the dreki they call the Killing Frost.” This time, it was her chance to stab a finger in his chest. “Where do you think you got your merciless reputation from? Your witless father, wrapped as he was around his sister’s finger? You were more my child than you ever were his. And just as you for
ged your own reputation, so did I. I did it to keep my court safe. And I did it to protect a child, though Tiamat save me, I regret my actions now.”
For a brief second, he felt a flutter in his chest, but one look in her eyes soon quashed the emotion. Her regret wasn’t for him.
No, she was speaking of the princess.
“You cannot let her fly free. She will destroy the world, curse you.”
Sirius leaned closer, so she could see the intent in his eye. “Good. The girl should know freedom for once in her life. She’s been nothing but a pawn in the game you, my father and Amadea played, and I know what it feels like to be caught in such a position.”
Lightning crashed on the horizon—answering the call of its queen—but he knew she’d never dare strike him down.
“Don’t follow us, Zorja,” he said, in a lethal tone. “Don’t try to recapture her. Because I will stop you and any warrior you send against me. I will destroy them all and cut them from the skies with a mere hint of my will. You think I am your equal when it comes to mercy? You are mistaken. I will ruin you and your court, and my heart will know nothing but joy to see you cast down.”
A sharp breath escaped her as he took a step back.
“You’re a fool,” she said bleakly. “I am not the one you will stand against. The Keepers of Order won’t be frightened by such words, and it is them you face and not I. I have done my part. I have tried to grant the girl mercy. I have tried to repay the debt I owe Fate. I am done. The fate of the world lies on your shoulders now, and you should know…. Fate is a cunning bitch, and she always wins.”
“Until now. She’s never played against me before, and I don’t play by the rules.”
“No?” The word was a soft one. “You have more to lose than you think, Sirius, unless I have heard wrong. They tell me she’s a sweet girl, your mate. No warrior maiden, but one who believes in dreams and fairy tales. One with a soft heart and a vulnerable spine.”
Cold chilled his core. “If you ever make a move against Malin—”
Zorja turned away from him, her shoulders straight as she walked into the wind. “Not I, my son. Not I. But as I said, the Keepers are not known for their mercy. And you just set yourself between them and the prophecy they have sworn their lives to. I truly hope your lovely mate survives.”
Sirius landed in the clearing and slowly shifted back into mortal form. His arms shook, and every inch of him ached as if he’d overstretched, but it had been a good fight. As much as he’d found himself a new male ever since he mated Malin, sometimes it was nice to let the wild within him out. Sometimes it was nice to watch others flee from him like rats.
“What are you still doing here?” he demanded as the others all gathered around a fire. “I thought I told you to get out of here?” He couldn’t scent the princess. “Where is Ishtar?”
Haakon swiftly filled him in on the afternoon’s events.
“Curse it.” Sirius paced the grass. “Injuries?”
Marduk sat still as Haakon bound his arm to his chest. His golden skin seemed pale, but he wore a disgusted sneer. “I dislocated my wing when I was knocked from the sky. Otherwise I would have gone after Ishtar.”
“Knocked from the sky?” What a weakling.
Marduk glared at him. “There were three of them, and I was forced to defend Haakon, which gave them the higher ground.”
Sirius shrugged, crossing to his travel bag. “There were sixteen in the end. And they squealed like children when I pounced.”
“Not all of us are murderous, vicious thugs.”
“No, some of us are spoiled little princes who’ve never known a day of hardship in our lives.”
Marduk shoved to his feet, amber heat spilling through his irises as the dreki came to life within him. “If anyone knew anything of hardship, it was the innocent dreki you crushed at your father’s bidding.”
Sirius’s temper roused. “I never—”
A hand shoved him in the chest. “Sit down,” Haakon said, in a chilling voice as their eyes met. He turned to look along the length of his other arm at Marduk. “The both of you.”
“If you touch me again,” Sirius told him in a dangerous voice, “I will rip your arm off.”
Haakon raised a brow.
Sirius cursed under his breath and stalked away, pacing in front of the fire. He shook his head. Old habits died hard. “It’s the battle. Rouses the blood. And all my killing instincts.”
It was as close to an apology as he could get without handing the bastard his balls.
“I noticed,” Haakon told him in a dry voice. “Árdís does the same thing when she’s threatened. Tormund is injured.”
He shrugged but couldn’t resist looking toward the giant. Tormund was a loudmouthed fool, but he’d protected Malin during the coup, and that would never be forgotten. “He will heal.”
“He can’t walk,” Haakon replied. “And you’re the healer, they tell me. So do something useful and heal him while I fix this sling that Marduk just ripped apart.”
He was on the verge of leaning closer and saying, “Make me,” when Marduk laughed under his breath.
“Healer? Sirius? How the world has changed.” The princeling shook his head. “Everything is upside down.”
Sirius took a slow, steady breath.
Malin would not like it if Sirius drowned Marduk in the lake.
Malin liked living at court with her father and sister.
Malin would be very displeased if he had the pair of them exiled from the Zini clan for killing his cousin.
Sirius growled and strode toward Tormund. The day’s affairs had him on edge and it had been weeks since he’d seen Malin. He desperately wanted to feel his mate’s arms around him. Which meant biting his tongue and not killing his cousin.
Tormund looked up wearily as Sirius knelt in front of him. Bryn had done her best to bandage his wounds, but the entire side of his face wore a welt of bruises.
“Your eyes are glowing,” Tormund said.
“All the better to see your many bruises. Not so pretty now, you big fool,” he muttered, grabbing Tormund’s face and examining the other side. “It looks like you kissed a fairly large boulder.”
“Aye. Maybe several of them. Not my best seduction,” Tormund said with a wince. “’Tis a good thing I had this fierce goddess there to protect me.” He grinned. “She was screaming all kinds of threats at the queen, when you caught her attention and stole Bryn’s kill.”
“Trust me. Zorja is more than Bryn can handle. Flaming sword or not.”
Sirius opened his Third Eye, letting his mind look beyond the physical. Tormund’s heart throbbed in his chest like an enormous golden pump. A single thought and he could snuff the life from the man’s veins….
But he pushed away from the human’s heart, letting his power slip through the mortal’s veins. There was hidden damage there; a broken rib, internal bleeding near the right kidney that probably would have killed him if left untreated; numerous bruises and cuts, and there, a torn ligament in the man’s ankle.
He’d spent years tearing blood vessels apart or slashing a spear of ice through an enemy’s heart, killing them instantly. To heal was to work backwards, and it was hard, slow work that brought a sweat to his brow.
Finally he was done. Every inch of him felt like it wanted to collapse into his bedroll and sleep for a week, but at least the after-battle aggression had faded.
“The worst of your injuries are healed,” he said, blinking as he closed his Third Eye and saw the mortal plane again.
Tormund rolled his ankle. “Feels… amazing.”
“You had old scarring there. I fixed it.”
Tormund used his shoulder to push to his feet. “Thank you.”
It still felt odd to be thanked.
And then it was his turn to be saved. Sirius blinked, realizing he’d swayed forward, but Tormund caught him and hauled him to his feet.
Their eyes met.
“Feeling a bit lightheaded. Thanks,
” Tormund said, as if to make out that it had been he who had needed the support.
Marduk watched him from across the fire. “Haakon has told me the story of how the mighty Blackfrost has become one of the Zini clan. He said you helped my sister escape your mating ceremony, and then ended up falling in love with a drekling. You.”
“You’ve met your sister. Mating with Árdís was my worst nightmare.” At Haakon’s lifted brow, he shrugged. “Which only worked in your favor. Helping her escape was the best decision I’ve ever made in my life. Apart from killing the queen.”
Marduk shook his head. “I told you. She’s not dead. Can’t you feel her energy out there?”
Sirius’s one eye narrowed. “I put my sword straight through Amadea’s heart and then I burned her body myself.”
“Then why can I still hear her song on the winds?”
Sirius stared at Marduk. He’d sworn to the Goddess that he would kill Amadea, and he’d thought the task done. “You can hear Amadea’s song? It wouldn’t be Árdís’s magic?”
“It all sounds different. I could always sense the magic within Árdís, as though she occasionally plucked at the strings of a lute but couldn’t always control it. Her song has grown louder of late, and more confident. She’s coming into her own. My mother’s song was old and full of jagged edges. It sounds like the rumble of thunder. And Ishtar…. Ishtar is the storm in the night sky. A crashing, thunderous storm that constantly boils.”
“And you can still sense them all.”
Marduk looked into the distance. “The queen’s song has changed. It sounds hollow and it echoes, but it’s still there. Just not as strong as it once was.”
“Perhaps death made Amadea’s magic weaker,” Sirius said slowly. “Perhaps some echo of it still remains.”
Or was her spirit haunting the court?
There had been… several odd occurrences of late. One of Rurik’s guards had vanished completely, and nobody could find a trace of him. Then there’d been the day the queen’s chambers were found in ruins, the curtains on her bed slashed to ribbons and all her gowns torn to pieces. They’d thought it was one of the drekling or dreki Amadea had once tortured, taking their rage out upon the queen’s old chambers.
