Storm of Desire

by Bec McMaster

  “Go ahead,” he dared her, with an arch of his brow.

  Rurik gave them both a perplexed look.

  "Árdís," Rurik warned, and Sirius realized he'd left a potential threat at his back.

  "I'm fairly certain Malin was saying 'no' from what I could see of her body language from the air," Árdís snapped, pulling her hair out of the neckline of the loose green dress she wore. She strode directly toward him, her fingers curled into claws. "You had better not have laid hands upon her if she was unwilling. Malin, are you all right?" Árdís went to her, and the pair of them clasped forearms. "He hasn't hurt you, has he?"

  Color stained Malin's cheeks. "No. And he wasn't hurting me then. We were arguing. It's good to see you."

  The two women threw their arms around each other.

  "What are you doing here?" Árdís demanded.

  "She's no longer safe at court," Sirius called.

  Árdís turned hot eyes upon him and he held up his hands in surrender again. He might as bloody well stay in this pose.

  Which went against all his natural instincts.

  The things a dreki did for his mate....

  "Blame yourself, if you want to blame anyone," he shot back. "Your little ruse in tying her up didn't work. My father wanted her dead."

  "Then why is she with you?"

  Malin caught the enraged princess by the wrist, and their eyes met briefly. "He... he rescued me and promised to bring me here, where I might be safe." She turned to the prince and curtsied again. "If you would have me."

  Rurik glanced at Árdís.

  "Of course you can stay," Árdís promised.

  "Not just yet," Sirius broke in coldly, meeting the exiled prince's amber eyes. "I'm here to offer Malin in exchange for Árdís. If I take her back, then no fight shall come of this."

  "What?" The word exploded out of Árdís, and she shoved forward, her golden hair tangled in loose curls around her face. "We had an agreement."

  "I don't want this," he sent, on psychic threads between the three of them. "But I have no choice. After Andri's betrayal, father's been treating Roar as an heir. If he thinks to replace my brother with Roar.... And Malin, I couldn't leave her there, I couldn't...."

  Soft understanding dawned on her face. "She's the one, isn't she?"

  A faint nod.

  Árdís's jaw dropped open. "Oh."

  "You could stay here," she sent back. "With us. You could fight with us. And you could have her as your own."

  "Árdís," Rurik scolded sharply. It wasn't a bargain she could offer, as these were the prince's lands.

  "Even if I were welcome," Sirius said mockingly. "I cannot."

  "You would choose your father over your mate?"

  "It's not—" He sucked in a sharp breath. "You forget the second creed my father's line stands for: Family before all else. It's what I've believed all my life." And he'd done things—horrible things—for that cause, for if he couldn't believe in family, then what else could he believe in?

  "Do you think they would give a damn? Do you think they would choose you?" she said.

  "I know they wouldn't."

  He'd learned that lesson long ago.

  Árdís's eyes flared gold. "Then how can you choose to fight at their side, knowing what they're like?"

  "Because if I don't go back," he hissed, "then he will kill my brother. I was the only thing stopping him."

  Family before all else. And in Sirius's eyes, there was one dreki left to him in this world that belonged in that category.

  "Andri." Rurik broke in sharply. "He's threatened Andri?"

  "Andri betrayed Magnus when he saved you from my brother's wrath. And Magnus was father's favorite. Stellan doesn't believe in disloyalty." Unless it came from him. He turned to her. "I made a deal, Árdís. I would serve my father's every whim if he allowed my brother to live. I would... I would mate with you, and secure the family's hold on the throne."

  "You let me go."

  "A foolish plan made on the spur of the moment." He glanced toward Malin, who was watching the three of them as if aware they communicated privately. "I hoped if you weren't there, then I could not be forced to mate with you, and could sidestep my part of the bargain. But my father will not accept such a loss. He demands your return at my side, and I fear if I don't, then he will renege upon his end of the bargain."

  "You cannot win."

  "No." He gave a bitter smile. "I cannot win. If you choose to stay, then you shall face me on the field as an enemy. I have no choice."

  Árdís pressed a hand to her temples. "Damn it."

  "You're not going," Rurik told her.

  "There is one other thing you should know," he told her. "They are coming for you right now, and they are coming in force. Your mother rides with them. To confront your brother means she must accept his claim as a potential rival for her throne, but she's been in a lather all night. They'll be here within hours. If I hand you over, it's done."

  "I can't," she said out loud. She turned to Rurik. "I can't."

  "I don't expect you to," Rurik replied. His eyes glittered queerly as he turned to glare at Sirius. "My sister is mated already. She cannot undo what is already done, and even if she weren't, I would not trade her freedom for another's life. And there is one last choice left to us.... Let your father and my mother come for Árdís. If Stellan dies on the field of war, then he can't lift a hand against Andri."

  "You don't understand—"

  Rurik hissed at him. "They're not invincible. We have weapons you cannot even dream of. When your father comes, I will challenge him. There's a reason he's afraid to face me."

  Sirius stared at him. "It won't be my father they send to battle with you."

  Lightning crackled in distant skies. He'd never faced the prince, not since they were both kits.

  And Rurik believed in honor, in fairness.

  As powerful as he was, Sirius had been molded into an assassin, a dark threat that leashed the court, and brought it to heel beneath his father and aunt.

  We will fight, and I will kill you, no matter what it takes, because it's what I do.

  And Malin would watch in horror.

  "Sirius?" Malin whispered, her hands clenched in her skirts.

  He looked at her, his heart freezing in her chest. "I'll have no choice."

  "That's not true," Rurik murmured. "If you defy your father then he'll have no choice but to face me. You want Malin to be safe? I'm the only one who can keep her out of his hands. Your choice, Sirius. Stay off the field of battle. Defy your father. And both your brother and your... Malin might survive."

  "You don't know what you're asking," Sirius called as they both stepped away from him. Damn them. He wasn't a fucking hero. Amadea had made certain of that thirty years ago.

  Árdís held out her hand to Malin.

  "Your choice," Rurik said softly as power blurred around him, leaving only a powerful dreki behind.

  Chapter 23

  Battle arrived on the wings of a storm, just as the sun began its steady decline toward the horizon.

  Árdís landed on the grassy plain that marked the edge of Rurik's territory, and Haakon slipped down from her back, looking faintly queasy. Thick brewing clouds darkened the west, and she could see lashes of lightning flickering there and a hint of wings. A brief shimmer of her power, and she stood next to Haakon in her mortal flesh. He handed her the bag with her clothes.

  "Magnus fought in his dreki form," he murmured, his hard gaze raking the dreki in the air opposite them. "You truly think they'll change to mortal shape?"

  "There's too many of us," she replied, dressing swiftly. Lightning crackled above them as Rurik landed with Freyja and Malin astride him. "Dreki don't fight in numbers. There would be simply too much damage, and more than ten dreki clashing would tear the earth apart, and fuel a set of storms that could change the weather patterns of the entire world. We'd send a sudden winter hammering down through Europe. It's a pact between the different courts that even my m
other dares not break.

  "It will be a challenge, one-on-one," Árdís added. "Mostly physical, to keep magic out of the fray as much as possible. One of them will challenge Rurik. He's the strongest male here. Another will possibly challenge me. Or your claim upon me."

  "Your customs make no sense," he muttered.

  "You're talking about an entire race of arrogant creatures driven by conceit," she pointed out. "Honor is everything. To defeat another in battle is a source of pride, but how can one be proud if you destroyed a puny mortal? It's an uneven battle. It means nothing. It is shameful."

  "Watch your back today," he said, helping her into her lightweight leather body armor.

  He wore a shirt of chainmail, with a ruff of fur on his shoulders. He looked dangerous, and vicious, and all hers.

  Árdís kissed him quickly. "I will. You watch yours. I've managed to shield you psychically, so they cannot overcome you the way they did last time. You're difficult to kill, but not impossible."

  He grinned at her suddenly. "Nothing's impossible to kill. I plan to add to my tally today."

  She rolled her eyes and sniffed. "Dragons don't count. They're practically wyrms."

  "Tormund thinks he's going to cut down more dreki than I." Haakon drew his sword with a steely rasp. "I have a point to prove. But I will watch my back—and yours—and tonight we'll celebrate."

  Men.

  She wished she had half his confidence. Her eyes lifted to the skies. One, two, three, four, five....

  "She's not here," Árdís whispered, searching the group for the distinct emerald green scales of her mother. Her heart lifted as hope began to tease through her. "My mother didn't come."

  A single dreki soared in slow circles in the air above them. Keeping track of the forthcoming battle for Amadea, no doubt.

  "Why would they not bring their greatest weapon?" Haakon murmured, his eyes narrowing.

  "They're dreki," she said, as if that explained everything. "And she can wield her powers from a distance."

  "Her powers are stronger if she's closer. Isn't that what you said?"

  Árdís shrugged. "Maybe she's afraid of me?"

  No. That didn't feel quite right. Árdís frowned. Her mother would be wary, but there was more than one way to handle a threat. I will definitely be watching my back.

  They joined the others, watching as Tormund, Gunnar, and Bjorn rode up behind them. The enormous ballista lumbered along on a wagon driven by Marek, just in case the tides of battle turned, but the three men were here to fight by hand.

  It evened out the numbers somewhat.

  A lone dreki stood on the hill overlooking the grassy plain. She didn't need to look closer to know who it was.

  "Go to him," she told Malin, who'd braided her hair in a crown around her head and was wearing an old dress of Freyja's.

  Her handmaid shot her an uneasy look, and then started up the hill. It was dangerous to bring her to the battle, but they had to find a way to keep Sirius out of the fight.

  And Árdís was playing dirty.

  If they fell here today, then there'd be no place her handmaid was safe anyway. At least here, Malin could perhaps turn the tide of battle, and Sirius would protect her should they fall.

  The ground started quivering beneath their feet. Lightning lashed through the skies, and one of the dreki screamed as a bolt of it seared the air dangerously close to him. Freyja held her hands into the air, her eyes turning electric blue as power speared through her.

  She was controlling the storm.

  "Rurik?" Árdís turned to her brother.

  "I told you," he replied on a psychic thread of gold. "She's not human. We don't know what she is, but she's been growing in power for the last month, ever since we mated."

  The enemy dreki landed on the smoking ground, and light flashed as they shifted shapes to their mortal forms and dressed.

  "It's time," Árdís whispered, drawing her sword.

  Stellan was the first to stride forward, his legs eating up the ground. Lightning flickered and danced behind him.

  "Uncle," Rurik called, forcing the other dreki to come and meet him.

  Stellan ignored him, turning his head to stare at her. "You've caused a great deal of trouble, Árdís."

  "I am not returning to court," Árdís said. "I have chosen my mate, and I will not submit to the will of either of your sons."

  "We no longer wish for your return." Stellan's lips thinned. "You are not worthy of the right to bear the Zilittu name, nor to mate with any of my sons. You have despoiled your blood with this human. Your mother has made the proclamation before the court, exiling you from the clan. You bear no dreki title, nor can you lay claim to your previous place. You are nothing. No one. Rut with whomever you want."

  It took her aback. All along she'd been fighting to free herself, and yet the sudden loss sheared through her.

  No longer a princess. No longer a part of her father's court. She might have held no ties to her mother's family, but her father's.... It was her inheritance. Her place in this world.

  A hand slid into hers, fingers lacing between them. Haakon. She squeezed back, grateful for the silent support.

  "You're my wife. That is your place," he muttered, and she looked at him sharply, surprised he'd heard her thoughts, though she shouldn't have been.

  They were one now.

  Almost.

  "You do not have the right to strip Árdís of her name," Rurik growled, stepping forward. "And the court belonged to my father. My mother's claim upon it is spurious, if nothing else."

  "I hear the words of a ghost," Stellan mocked, his eyes glittering. "Your words have no weight here."

  "I hear the words of a coward," Rurik shot back, and every dreki within the area sucked in an audible gasp. "One who likes to hide behind lies, and the lives of his sons." He gestured to the barren lands around him. "Well, I have helped take one of your sons from this world. Perhaps you would like to step out from behind the others? Face me as the dreki warrior you claim to be."

  Stellan's eyes narrowed.

  "Enough."

  The word echoed through all their minds, like a lash of lightning.

  The dreki parted, and behind them, Árdís saw a woman skirting the bubbling pools of mud, stagnant ponds, and the hissing steam vents that marked the caldera. The heat drained from Árdís's face. Her mother walked with stately grace, wearing a gown of emerald green velvet, her unbound hair tumbling in loose golden waves down her back.

  She hadn't been hiding after all. She'd been waiting to make an entrance.

  "You sent me a challenge," Amadea hissed, her golden hair streaming behind her in the winds. "Are you ready to face me, daughter?"

  Árdís stared at her mother, swallowing her fear.

  "A challenge?" Rurik called. "I haven't heard anyone here offer challenge."

  "Oh, but that's not true, is it, Árdís?" Her mother's smile widened. "Go ahead and tell them the truth. How many nights ago was it when you sent your spirit dreki to me? And now I am here to fight for my crown."

  The blood drained out of her face. "But I didn't mean...."

  A green glow began to ignite in the queen's eyes. "You stupid kit. Did you think I would merely hide in Hekla and wait for you to grow in strength?"

  She'd barely begun to master her magic.

  But she'd told her mother she'd kill her if she ever touched Haakon again. A wince went through her as she remembered what else she'd said. You are not the only one with power, she'd hissed. I'm waiting for you, Mother. Come and get me.

  Technically a challenge. She slid her sword back into its sheath. Her breath hitched. This wasn't the fight she'd expected, but she could do this.

  She had to do this.

  "Árdís," Haakon said, his face grim.

  "This is my battle," she whispered to Haakon. "If I fall, then remember the plan."

  "You're not going to fall."

  She pressed a gentle hand to his arm. "I love you."

  "I
love you too." He bent and kissed her cheek. "And I don't think she'd be here if she wasn't a little afraid of you, Árja. I also think she's going to cheat."

  "She can't. If she breaks her word, then the entire court will turn on her."

  All her life she'd been too afraid to take what she wanted. She was no longer that young woman, sheltered and alone, looking for someone to fight her battles for her.

  This was her fight.

  And she was no longer afraid.

  "Árdís?" Rurik called.

  "I challenged her," she said, striding to the middle of the ground between both groups. "She has the right of it."

  Amadea stood before her, weaving wisps of electric green light to life. A net of shimmering, incandescent green.

  Excellent. Who knew what that could do?

  Árdís planted her feet, and reached down deep within her.

  Just as she drew her breath to delve into her new power, a sudden shocking slam of another dreki's mind lashed against hers. A blow of psychic proportions, that she narrowly turned away with a psychic shield. Stellan.

  "Árdís!" someone bellowed.

  She was on the ground, on her knees, and her magic evaporated through her fingers. The net flared wide as her mother cast it at her, filling her vision.

  Move! Árdís threw herself aside, still trying to blink through the shock of the assault. She splashed through hot mud, and the net sizzled as it hit the ground where she'd been standing, and vanished into the earth, leaving behind a carved grid.

  Behind her, swords clashed as Stellan leapt forward to drive her brother back. Árdís staggered to her feet as her mother's dreki charged forward, cutting her off from the others. Amadea had vanished behind them, taking her dangerous magic with her.

  What was happening? This wasn't how dreki fought. The challenge had been accepted by her mother, which meant the fight ought to remain between the pair of them. Árdís drew her sword as two of the dreki advanced. Behind them, she could just make out Haakon, advancing upon Roar with his sword drawn.

  He was cut off from her by the two dreki circling her. She recognized Lor, one of her mother's pets, and Florian, who generally preferred to keep to the shadows.