Storm of Desire

by Bec McMaster

"This is a challenge," she snapped. "Between my mother and me. Get out of my way."

  Lor's smile sent a shiver down her spine. He towered over her, and his reputation was brutal enough to make her very wary. "Your mother changed the rules. It was a challenge. But who's going to tell the court?"

  And they were the only ones who mattered.

  Árdís took a step backward. This had been the plan all along. Lure her out and cut her off from the others, who were battling behind her to break through. Keep her distracted by fighting for her life, unable to take a second to bring her magic to bear. "You think there won't be any witnesses to this fight? This is breaking all the rules."

  "I know," Lor said, and lunged forward, bringing his sword down upon hers.

  "We have to do something," Malin cried as the melee beneath them suddenly shifted, revealing how outnumbered Rurik and Árdís were.

  Every muscle in Sirius's body locked tight.

  "Get down here," Stellan snarled in his head. "It should have been you attacking the prince."

  Rurik and Stellan fought like a pair of titans, their entire focus locked upon each other as they bashed and hammered at each other's swords. Mud churned up beneath their feet, but Sirius's father was keeping the prince busy. Behind him, Rurik's woman paced nervously, not daring to intervene with her magic.

  Amadea laughed as she withdrew to a grassy knoll, leaving Árdís facing Lor and Rolf. Árdís was holding her own. Barely. But Lor was letting her wear herself down, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

  And beyond them, Árdís's mortal husband kept trying to reach her side, but Roar danced between them, grinning as he lunged forward with his sword. Behind Haakon, Florian shot the queen a sidelong glance, then withdrew the dagger at his belt and took a stealthy step toward the Norseman.

  It would be death from behind, with Roar deliberately distracting Árdís's husband.

  Sirius could see the tides of the battle turning. The man would fall, and then both Florian and Roar could take on Rurik. The humans who were trying to wade into battle to save their friend would be obliterated with a thought.

  This had never been intended to be a fair fight. Both Amadea and Stellan had accepted challenges, but they weren't going to finish them alone. Árdís would be worn down, and the only one remaining who could fight would be Rurik.

  The prince's odds narrowed the second the others fell.

  They should have known the queen would never fight honorably. Not after she'd arranged to have their father murdered.

  Rurik's strength—and weakness—was his sense of honor.

  "Please," Malin whispered, turning to him. "Please don't let this happen. You could stop this. You're the only one here who can."

  Sirius closed his eyes. "This is how it was always going to end."

  "It doesn't have to. I said I despised you, but it wasn't true. There is something good within you. I don't know how your father didn't crush it out of you, but it's there. I've seen it."

  To take a side meant he could never go back. He could cost Andri his life.

  But if Rurik lost today, if Stellan and Amadea were victorious, then there was nowhere Malin would be safe. They would kill her. Or they would try. And then he would be taking a side anyway, for he could not let that happen.

  "Please be a hero," she begged.

  The words cut right to the core of him.

  "I'm not a hero," he snapped.

  "Then be my hero," she whispered.

  Of all the things that could have changed his mind…. He was trapped, no matter which choice he made. He knew if he entered the field of battle below, he would not return. Stellan would never allow him to survive such a betrayal.

  But the decision was made. For Malin's sake.

  His life for hers. The price would be worth it.

  Here it ends.

  It almost felt like there was finally something to fight for. A means to atone for all he'd done.

  "Stay here," Sirius told her softly, pressing his dagger into her hands. "And don't let anyone near you."

  She watched him go, relief filling those beautiful eyes, and he knew she did not realize this was goodbye.

  Mud kicked up, and Haakon whirled, deflecting the blow from the bastard prince. Shock echoed through his arms as their swords met. Roar was stronger than he was, and slightly taller. For a man used to hunting dragons, Haakon was suddenly in the fight of his life. The edge of Roar's sword shuddered down his, and glanced off the leather vambrace he wore on his arm as they fell apart.

  No time to breathe.

  The fight was chaos. A fist slammed into his face, and he responded with a boot to Roar's knee. He caught flashes of the others as his cheek throbbed, especially Árdís. She'd been right. They weren't trying to kill her, but if they disarmed her....

  His cheek stung as the very tip of Roar's sword kissed it. Right. Pay attention. Because while Árdís wasn't in any immediate danger, he was.

  "First blood," Roar grinned at him, as if that made any damned difference. "You can fight. For a mortal. But I'm going to win."

  Haakon twisted and slammed his shoulder into the bastard. Roar staggered, and he followed through with his fist, his knuckles driving into Roar's scarred cheek.

  There was a pistol at his waist. A grappling hook. And no time to grab any of it.

  Roar lunged forward, beating him back, the intensity of the fight suddenly increasing. Haakon barely had time to wonder why. Moves that flowed like water down a hill were suddenly sloppy and careless. They battered at each other, hammering with fist and sword, until all he could see was the dreki. His sword arm was getting heavier. But he was meeting every strike, and he could see the bastard prince's frustration growing.

  The dreki had expected an easy fight.

  "I think I'm going to fuck her right here in the mud for the first time." Roar laughed as they broke apart. "Right next to your dead body."

  Like hell. Árdís was his. Haakon slammed into him in a violent crunch of steel and leather, and drove the bastard back. He couldn't get his sword up in time. Simply slammed the pommel of it into Roar's teeth, and heard a satisfying crunch. Blood sprayed across his face, and then they were locked together, the steel inserts on his chainmail tangled with Roar's. Metal shrieked. Clapping a hand over Roar's to pin his sword low, he drove a knee into the other man's thigh.

  They finally broke apart, and Haakon sucked in a much-needed breath, his lungs burning. Roar hopped out of the way, favoring his leg and spitting blood and bits of tongue. His eyes flashed dreki-gold. Murderous.

  "Guess I'm not the only one who can bleed," Haakon mocked, though every inch of him was starting to ache. There was a sharp ache of exertion deep in his side and groin. The world seemed far too bright and chaotic, and he knew he needed to finish this quickly, before the tide of energy racing through his veins suddenly broke and came crashing down upon him.

  There was something about the other man's vicious bloodied smile that made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. "We'll see."

  "Behind you!" A man yelled.

  Instincts honed by years of battle, Haakon turned, catching a glimpse of a dark shadow rushing toward him. His elbow was moving, up, up, into the newcomer's face, but silver flashed beneath his arm, into the gaping vulnerability of his chainmail.

  A knife.

  Haakon's breath exploded out of him as it rammed into his side. He felt the punch of it as the hilt hit skin, and slammed his elbow into the would-be assassins face. The dreki went down, taking the knife with him, and it was only then that Haakon felt the rest of it.

  Burning agony exploded through him. There was a tight pulling up under his arm. Pain searing along his nerves.

  His legs weren't working properly, his right knee threatening to go out from under him. Blood. All over his side. He clapped his other hand there, and felt it weeping warmly over his fingers. Sweet gods.

  How bad?

  White began sucking at his vision. Between one second and the next, he found him
self on his knees, his sword in the mud. He couldn't remember dropping it. Couldn't remember hitting the ground.

  "No!" Even from across the field, he heard Árdís's scream cut through the air as if the very sound vibrated.

  Everyone clapped their hands over their ears.

  Haakon blinked, and then the dreki who'd stabbed him was on his feet. Moving toward him with the knife held low against his thigh.

  "He's mine. I get to do the honors," Roar said, spitting blood into the mud as he stalked forward with an unhurried step, bringing his sword up. "I want her to see it."

  Haakon's fingers groped for his sword. His vision was narrowing. Fingers slippery with blood as he tried to pick it up. His right side throbbed just under the ribs.

  "Haakon!" He couldn't see her, but he knew Árdís was fighting her way toward him.

  Árdís, his sunlit princess.

  His heart.

  His everything.

  No. He didn't want her to see this.

  Roar lifted the sword, and sunlight flashed off it as it began its descent—

  Steel whined as it shaved the air next to his ear, and then a shower of sparks rained over him as another sword met Roar's.

  The bastard prince's eyes widened, and then he was staggering back, a boot in his chest, as someone stepped between them.

  Not just anyone.

  But the dreki who'd once sworn to kill him.

  "Hello, brother," Sirius almost purred.

  Chapter 24

  You," said a sharp voice loaded with hate.

  Haakon gasped, trying to kick his way back across the ground as the queen appeared, a knife held low against her skirts. Blood bubbled over his lips, and he coughed. A lung. The bastard had hit his lung. The pressure in his chest was back, and he felt like he could barely breathe.

  "You dared to touch a dreki princess?" the queen hissed. "You dared defile her blood?"

  Swords clashed nearby. Sirius taking on both Roar and the dreki who'd stabbed him. They sounded a world away.

  "Wife," he managed to gasp, trying to reach inside his chainmail. "She's... my wife."

  The queen's vicious green eyes narrowed. "Then let me make her a widow."

  Striding forward, she brought the knife up sharply.

  "Mother!" Árdís screamed, sliding to her knees between them and crouching over him. "No!"

  "So be it, Árdís," the queen snarled, and moved to stab her.

  It was now or never.

  "Árdís," he wheezed, fumbling with what he held in his hand.

  She captured her mother's hand, halting the downward strike. But the queen was stronger than she looked. Árdís's hands shook as she fought to hold the blade at bay. The queen leaned all her weight onto it, a lash of green light beginning to smoke from her eyes.

  Árdís couldn't fight both knife and magic.

  Hauling together every last bit of strength, Haakon lunged forward and locked the manacle around the queen's wrist, then slumped at her feet.

  Golden light flared as the metallic links fused together. Amadea staggered back, looking down in shock and shaking her hand as if to remove it. "What have you done?"

  "Trapped you," he rasped. "No magic. No dreki. Only your weak, pathetic human... form."

  The strength was draining out of him. Somehow he ended up in Árdís's lap.

  "You rotten cur," the queen snarled, taking a step toward them with the knife.

  "Only he can remove it from your wrist. If he dies, then you'll wear that manacle for the rest of your immortal life." Árdís snapped. "Or perhaps it will only be a mortal lifespan, as the manacle warps both your ability to utilize magic and to shift forms. Perhaps it will drain the years from your future, as well."

  The queen's face paled, and she tore at the manacle. "Get it off me! Stellan!"

  A roar sounded. An enormous dreki lashed into the skies, abandoning his duel with Rurik.

  "You should never underestimate me, mother," Árdís snapped. "I knew you'd cheat somehow. So we evened the odds. Enjoy your mortal life. I'd suggest you retreat, before I unleash my dreki upon you."

  Stellan swooped down and plucked the queen into the air with his claws. A ragged slash of red ran down his flank as he lifted into the air, carrying her away.

  Haakon blinked. He felt light-headed, but he knew the battle had broken. The surge of energy that had allowed him to manacle the queen vanished. All he could feel now was pain. Árdís knees cushioned his head. A tear splashed into his face. He reached up to her, his fingers numb as he brushed her cheek. "Worth it," he whispered.

  Or thought he did.

  His lips felt like they weren't moving.

  "No!" Árdís screamed, and it was the last thing he heard as darkness rushed up to take him.

  "Haakon?"

  She shook him, but his head lolled to the side, a rasp coming from his chest.

  Árdís scrambled out from beneath him, pressing her fingers to the pulse in his neck. His heart still beat, but it was very weak, and blood covered the mud. Tearing his chainmail open, she tried to find the cause of it. There. Under his arm.

  "Somebody help me!" she cried, her fingers coming away wet and slick. She didn't know what to do. Some dreki could heal others, but it was not one of her gifts. "Rurik!"

  His mind touched hers, and then he was by her side.

  "He's been stabbed," she whispered, cradling Haakon's face. "He's barely breathing."

  A hesitation. "I'm not a very good healer."

  "Please. Just try." She reached for Haakon with her psychic gifts, her mind brushing against his, even as her hand curled around his cheek.

  "Árdís." Haakon twitched.

  "I love you," she sent back, her mind tangling with his. "Please don't leave me. You promised you'd protect me forever. I will follow you through the gates of death itself," she whispered, feeling the clouds swirl over them.

  Her vision blurred. She stood on a grassed slope with the skies racing above her, a meld of furious clouds one second, and the next sunlight. Haakon walked ahead of her, his enormous cloak swirling around his boots. Sunlight turned the world into a glorious green haven. One she recognized. A goat bleated. The thatched roof of a house peaked over the horizon.

  Home.

  He was going home.

  "Haakon!" She sprinted along the path behind him, snatching for his arm.

  Her hand locked around his, and he turned, his skin pale and bloodless. "Árdís?"

  "You're mine, Haakon Dragonsbane, and I will not let you go. Not now. Not ever."

  Thunder crashed, and her head jerked up.

  Then a pair of hands captured her face, tilting her mouth up. "Mine," Haakon agreed, just before his lips took hers.

  The kiss fused the pair of them together, and a whirlwind of power swept up through her. It sparked all across her skin. Suddenly she didn't know where he began, and she ended. She felt like Haakon's mind brushed back against her. A sickening whirl began to pull her down, toward him. Árdís swayed.

  "Hold him there," Rurik snapped.

  She stood on the edge of life and death, energy draining through her as she gritted her teeth. If she let go, even for second, then she'd lose him, she knew.

  Heat flushed through the pair of them all of a sudden, and Árdís sensed her brother trying to direct weaves of pure Fire. Haakon suddenly screamed, his spine arching as they wove through him. Árdís wrapped her arms around him, standing in two worlds as she fought to hold him.

  "I will never let you go," she promised.

  Thunder clapped, and the skies spit lightning. Haakon collapsed beneath her, and then Árdís was blinking back into the natural world. Exhausted.

  "The Great Goddess has heard your vow," Rurik murmured, sitting back on his knees. A relieved smile graced his face as she blinked at him. "You've claimed him as yours."

  "What happened?" she whispered.

  "Instinct, Árdís. That's all you ever truly needed."

  She could feel the whisper of her husband's tho
ughts against hers. His life tied to hers. A surge of pure happiness shot through her. "I bound him."

  "Árja?" Haakon rasped, reaching up to touch her skin.

  She captured his hand, consumed by the strange feelings inside her. "Haakon!" Leaning down, she threw her arms around him, careless of the mud or the blood, or anything but the feel of him against her. "You're alive. And mine. Forever."

  Chapter 25

  My lord?" Malin whispered, her hands curled into tight little fists as she interrupted Prince Rurik before he could open the door to his mate's little farmhouse.

  The golden prince stirred, looking weary. "Malin."

  She tried to curtsy, but he caught her hand and shook his head. "I understand the court is different these days to the one I matured within. But you owe me no obeisance." His smile lit up the night. "Technically, I'm not even a prince anymore."

  "Yes, you are," she breathed, swallowing the tight lump in her throat. "The entire court whispers your name. You're the rightful ruler, the rightful heir. They all want to see you overthrow your mother."

  Rurik didn't look happy at the news. "Were you troubled, Malin? Did Freyja not find you someplace to sleep?"

  "Yes, she did, but...." Malin drew on all of her courage, and blurted. "Sirius flew after his father and the rest of them."

  The prince's eyes narrowed. "He made his choice."

  "No, he didn't!" she cried, catching at his sleeve. "He entered the fray, and he fought Roar. If he hadn't, then….”

  Silence. She found herself the focus of those intense eyes.

  "He was afraid for his brother," she said. "He touched minds with me when he left. He flew after them because he feared they might kill Andri in response to his betrayal. They'll hurt him, I know they will. Or worse. We have to rescue them."

  "I cannot attack the court. Its defenses are too strong, and my mother and Stellan have proven they won't play fair. I can't challenge them and lure them out. I can't get inside the court, Malin. They'll feel me coming."

  "He fought for you," she snapped, and then swallowed hard. Oh, sweet heavens.... But the prince didn't look as though he was going to strike her. "Please, my prince. If Sirius hadn't joined the battle when he did, Haakon would be dead and you overthrown. He betrayed his father for you."