Dragon in the Blood (Vale of Stars Book 2)

by Juliette Cross

  “Please, Lord,” I begged him, capturing his obsidian gaze. “Grant my wish.”

  “I will, Priestess.” His voice rolled with a seductive echo. “In exchange for one of my own.”

  “Anything,” I said, drawn to the lovely, dark pull of his power. “Ask and it shall be yours.”

  “I will not ask. I will come to you when the time is right. You will give me what I command.”

  “Yes,” I said, tears of joy pooling and slipping down my cheeks, for I could feel his power surging into my womb even now. “Anything. It shall be done.”

  He heaved in a breath and then blew out a plume of black smoke in the shape of a serpentine head that slithered down and encircled my son, cradling him. A painful yet euphoric hum of energy seeped through my skin into my womb.

  “Ah!” I cried out as a bright sting lashed through me like a whip before leaving me breathless in a haze of pure ecstasy.

  He removed his hand from my belly. “It is done.”

  Then he lifted one clawed gray finger to my chin, raising my gaze to his, shrouded within his hood, though I could see fiery black stars gazing back.

  “I will come to you.”

  “Yes, my lord. I will be ready.”

  With a whip of his cloak, he marched back through the snow, his silent companions following as they stormed into the shadows and vanished into the ether in a howl of wind. My knees buckled. Decimus was at my side catching me in his arms.

  “Why did you agree to an unknown debt?” he asked, rage in his voice.

  “I had to. For my son.”

  “It was foolish, mistress.”

  I cupped his cheek to calm his beast rattling his cage. “Do not worry, lover. All will be well now.”

  He pulled my red cloak from the snow and covered me then swept toward the path, my body limp, my wings dragging in the downy dust, but I did not care.

  “Is the girl gone?” I glanced over his shoulder where her pale body still bled down the altar and into the white.

  “Nearly. She will be soon.”

  “Goodbye, Lena,” I whispered. “Go to Mother Moon. Thank you for your sacrifice.”

  Warm power pulsed through my body from the center of my womb where my son’s heart beat strong and hard. I let my head fall to my lover’s shoulder. I smiled, resting for the first time now that…

  “It is done.”

  CHAPTER 23

  Bowen’s brother had been gone on a scouting mission for fifteen minutes while we waited in silence on the hillside overlooking the woodland. Kol had refused to allow Bowen to go for fear his overwhelming need to find his sisters and avenge them might override his common sense. Bowen didn’t object, for I believe he feared the same. When Valla whispered to Kol that we might have the same problem with his brother, Sinjin, Bowen stepped in.

  “We share the same father, not the same mother. Trust Sinjin. He will get the information we need very discreetly and without detection.” Bowen had handed him two scraps of cloth and whispered something, then Sinjin was off. No one needed to ask whose scent was on the fabric. The Huntergilds were the best hunters of all of the clans. He would certainly find them if they were in the camp.

  Having left the icy wilderness of central Aria, we were able to discard our heavier winter gear—the skullcaps, goggles, and jackets. We’d all tucked our gear out of sight and tended to our weapons. The Huntergilds were all bowmen. Valla sat on a stump, sharpening her Drakonian swords while a black-haired Huntergild dipped his arrows into a vial with a clear substance. The other Huntergilds did the same.

  “What is it?” I asked. “Poison?”

  “Aye,” said the Huntergild. “Black Hellebore.”

  “I know that flower,” said Paxon at my side, smiling too large for one about to embark on a cut-throat battle.

  “You’re a flower expert?” I teased. “My, how the mated life has softened you.”

  He arched a brow, seemingly unfazed. “There is a field of them near my home outside Gladium. And the mated life has hardened me, brother. If you don’t believe me, ask Ella.”

  “Oh, enough,” said Valla, still sharpening one sword with a flat whetstone. “No one cares how hard your dicks are.”

  “Hmm, are you sure about that, Valla?” he asked with implication. “Not one of us? Not even y—?”

  “Shut the fuck up, Paxon,” I growled.

  He laughed just as Bowen stepped into our circle. “Sinjin is back. Come.”

  We all followed swiftly to where Kol, Lorian, Bastien, and his Bastards were gathered, a blue-light on within their circle, Sinjin at the center. He used a stick to draw in the snow a rough map of the camp below.

  “It is set up in military fashion,” said Sinjin.

  “If Barron Coalglass set it up,” interjected Lorian, “then it would be. He served in the Morgon Guard briefly before following his father into politics.”

  Sinjin nodded. “Well, it looks very much like a Guard operation.” He drew squares in a hexagonal shape. “These are all soldiers’ camps, possibly divided by rank. But this one”—he pointed to the one at the top—“this is definitely officers’ quarters. They wear the silver cuffs as we saw on the leader in Harrowmir.” Sinjin scowled, glancing at Bowen.

  “What is it, brother? Did you find my sisters?”

  The energy radiating off Bowen snapped in the air, waking all our beasts for the ready.

  “Yes. I did.” He pointed his stick within the square for the officers. “Serena is in here.”

  “And Lena?”

  “I could not get a clear location of her. Her scent is strongest in a hut here,” he said pointing outside the officers’ quarters, “but she isn’t there.”

  An eerie calm swept over the man, Bowen’s focus narrowing in on the dot of Sinjin’s map. He then gazed out toward the flickering torchlight in the woodland as if he could see her clearly through the dark and trees, as well as the men he planned to kill.

  “What are your orders?” he asked Kol, his voice low and gruff. He wrapped a hand tightly around the grip of his bow, ready to fight.

  We were all ready to fight, ready to annihilate the Larkosians if we could.

  “What about their king?” asked Kol. “Did you see one who could be him? He would stand out, bigger than the others, more monster than man.”

  They’d all been given his detailed description, an abomination of Morgonkind. He wouldn’t be difficult to spot.

  Sinjin shook his head. “No. Not in the officers’ dwellings where I could see inside. Nor in their”—he paused, catching his brother’s attention—“their brothel. He isn’t there as far as I can tell.”

  Someone’s growl rolled in the air. It was Madera, a look of death on her face. The fierce warrior that she was, there would be blood spilled tonight.

  “Damn,” cursed Kol, scowling down at the map on the ground. He leaned forward with hands on knees as if to discover something new. “If we go now, we take the chance he isn’t here. Their king. And we lose the chance to annihilate their leader.”

  “Where would he be,” asked Bastien, “if not with his army?”

  “One of our undercover agents informed us, before he was killed, that he has many such encampments. His army is split into several fortresses.”

  “Smart,” said Sinjin. “He has a way to evade capture by never staying at one too long. And if one is destroyed, there is another for backup.”

  “Yes,” said Kol. “We discovered one not too long ago.” His voice rumbled into a growl. He could never speak of the time Moira was taken by the Blood King without his beast ripping to the surface.

  “I will not leave this place without my sisters and without killing every fucking Morgon who touched them,” said Bowen, still as stone, deadly calm, his chest rising and falling in quick succession.

  Kol straightened and held his gaze. With a deep nod, he said, “Aye. And that is what we will do. If anyone stumbles across this Blood King, call for me through the comm. I want to be the one to put a sword
in his heart.”

  Growls rumbled within our circle. Dragon eyes beamed brightly, even Valla’s blue-fire gaze lit up her face.

  “Team one will sweep to the officers’ quarters as you seem to be the most silent, and they will be the most cunning,” said Kol, probably sensing that is where Bowen needed to go first.

  “I would like to assist Bowen,” I said. “We started this mission together. I’d like to finish it with him.”

  Bowen busied himself turning the notch to tighten his bowstring and tested it with a pluck of his finger. Then he cinched the strap of his quiver that crossed his chest, pulling to be sure it was square and flush against his back. He moved with swift, sharp motions, appearing focused and intensely attune to the hunt. He must’ve sensed me observing him, for he glanced my way. A myriad of emotions warred across his face—fury, fear, desperation. But what shocked me into a stupor for a moment was the blazing green gaze of his dragon with thick black serpentine slits staring back at me. I’d never seen the calm, collected Bowen in the full state of his beast. And it was terrifying to behold. There was no question that he would catch and kill his quarry tonight or he’d die trying. And I would help him if I could. The thought of Valla being held captive like his sisters sent a wave of fury through my frame. Like him, I’d kill every last mother fucker in the place.

  “Aye,” said Valla at my side. “I’d like to go with Conn and Bowen.”

  Kol nodded. “Fine. Then the Bastards and the Guard officers will sweep through the soldiers’ camps, Bastards from the east, Guard from the west.”

  “Sounds good to me,” said Bastien with a nod. His expression darkened as he tightened the strap holding his battle ax in place.

  Madera had her spear already in her hands. “I’ll take the brothel.”

  Woe to the man she found violating a woman tonight in that place. She’d leave none standing.

  “Set your comms,” said Kol. “It should take five minutes for everyone to get into place. At exactly five we sweep in as one. The order is kill. We exact blade justice tonight. Kill every Morgon you find.”

  “Even the Bloodback witch from the coven?” asked Valla.

  “No. Not her.” He tapped his comm, setting his timer. “Keep her alive if you find her. I have a question or two of my own before she’s brought back to the Tribunal in Cloven. Now, go.”

  Without hesitation, we all leapt into the air off the hillside and, gliding over the treetops, headed toward the encampment. Valla and I had fallen into a V-formation around Bowen, with him as the head. Relieved that she chose to join us, that she was near me, even though she’d rejected me yet again, put me at ease. At least for this fight. I would deal with the inevitable separation from her after the battle. I planned to use my pent-up frustration and anger at the world on some mother-fucking Larkosians tonight. These Morgons had no humanity left in them, kidnapping women and forcing them into slavery. They could not and would not succeed in their plan to bring back the old order, the ancient world where Morgons ruled as dictators of the world and beat humanity into submission and slavery.

  I’d told Valla why my parents’ moved to Gladium, but what I hadn’t told her is that I loved my home. I loved living in a place where, though not perfect, the majority believed in the benefits of a peaceful coexistence between species. Even the Guard seemed to support this belief. Though their first mission was to serve justice to criminals—in this case, abductors, murderers, and rapists of innocent human women—ultimately, they were a peacekeeping organization. That is why I agreed to ally myself with them on this mission, besides the fact that Valla would be my partner.

  My partner…only on a professional level. I’d mourn that loss later. No time now.

  Bowen descended with the Huntergilds, fanning out around the small roughly-made brick cottages, which Sinjin had designated as the officers’ quarters. We landed in new fallen snow in a quiet hush. Sinjin pointed diagonally to our right and gave Bowen a stiff nod. That was where his sister was kept.

  While the others spread in opposite directions, Valla and I followed Bowen through the narrow alleyway beside our target and found a side door that led into the dwelling. He leaned with his ear to the door. I tapped his shoulder, motioned toward the front, and flexed my fingers wide then in a fist and wide again. Thirty seconds. I’d take the front entrance from the street. He nodded.

  Striding to the corner, I then peered out, sensing Valla at my back, hearing the zing of her swords slide from their sheaths as I kept count in my head. I already had my broadsword at the ready. No one walked the path at the front, street torches long extinguished. There was not even a lookout. Arrogance. Always the most fatal flaw.

  I crept to the front entrance and put my ear to the door with Valla facing the street, weapons ready in defense stance should someone walk up on us.

  Five seconds left.

  There was no sound at all from the other side. Everyone must be asleep. I tried the latch. Locked. This would be a loud forced entry. With a glance over my shoulder at Valla, I waited for the last second to tick off in my head, hauled back with a hand on the latch, and thrust forward with my shoulder with all my weight. The door cracked at the center. I heaved out again and barreled through, splintering the door down the center. A jagged piece scratched my neck, but not deep.

  A quick sweep revealed the cabin was only two rooms, a living space, and the kitchen. Bowen entered the living space from the kitchen. On the far wall stood a wide bed where a Sunsting man, naked but with silver cuffs on his arms, shot onto his feet. He grabbed two long, curved daggers on a shelf out of reach of the three human women laying on palettes on the floor. Chains on the wall linked to cuffs around their necks. Another woman was latched by a chain from her throat cuff to the iron bedpost. She bore a strong resemblance to Bowen now stalking forward in a fury. Valla guarded the door while I backed Bowen, though there was no need.

  The women on the floor cowered into a corner, huddled together, their chains rattling. The Sunsting, yellow eyes gleaming in the dark, circled into the open, muscles bunching as he held daggers aloft in both hands. I could’ve shot a fire bolt directly into his heart and ended this quickly, but Bowen wanted this kill. Needed this kill. He’d left his bow and quiver strapped to his back, opting for a twelve-inch blade of his own that he kept in his boot. A blade was more personal, and it appeared Bowen wanted the justice of killing him up close.

  The Sunsting lunged, jabbing chest-high. Bowen ducked and swept to the villain’s opposite side, slicing at the tendon behind his knee. The officer yelled, knee faltering, bringing him to the ground. Two seconds later, Bowen had him in a chokehold from behind and cracked one of his wings in half with an awful crunch. One girl squealed. Bowen didn’t hesitate, stabbing him twice in the middle of the ribs on both sides, cracking through to the lungs. Blood sprayed Bowen’s face and chest. He dropped the Morgon to the floor, letting him choke on his own blood. Bowen’s sister had watched the scene in utter stillness, then stood from the bed in a thin gown with the same composure and carriage of her brother.

  “Serena.” Bowen stepped over his sister’s dying captor, stretching a bloody hand to her across the bed.

  She took his hand but the chains rattled and jerked her back at the throat.

  “The key, Serena.” There was a gravely tone to his strained voice, as if it took every ounce of energy to make the words clear. His beast still wanted to maim and mar.

  She pointed to the mantel above the fireplace with a shaky finger. Bowen retrieved the key and unlocked the chain at her throat, opened the cuff, and dropped it to the floor. He pulled her roughly into his arms. She buried her face in his chest, muffling something I couldn’t hear.

  “I know,” Bowen whispered. “Shhh. I’m here now.”

  While Bowen rocked his sister in his arms, crushing her close, Valla grabbed the keys where he had dropped them and freed the other girls. All the while, the Sunsting officer coughed up blood, dying slowly as Bowen had intended.

&nbs
p; “Lena,” said Serena, stepping out of her brother’s arms. “We must get Lena.”

  “Where is she?” asked Bowen urgently.

  Serena winced. “The soldiers’ quarters. I’ll show you.”

  She ran to the wall and grabbed her cloak from a hook and slipped her feet into fur-lined boots.

  “What about them?” asked Valla.

  “They should stay here till it’s over,” I said.

  A scream sounded from the neighboring cottage.

  “Yes,” said Bowen, looking back at the other women. “Get dressed and wait here till we return for you. Until they’re all dead,” he added with disgust, glancing at the bleeding man on the floor.

  One of the three in the corner nodded and whispered. “We’ll be ready. Don’t leave us.” Her voice broke with the tears streaming down her face. “Please don’t leave us.”

  Serena stepped forward, pulling her hood over her head. “I’d never do that, Carra. We’ll be back for all of you. Just get dressed and be ready as my brother said.”

  “Your…brother?”

  Serena did not answer but stepped toward the man who’d held her prisoner and had most certainly done unspeakable things to her. She was a quiet presence, like her brother, cloaked in gray, serene, and yet filled with a blazing flame. Just like her brother.

  “Give me your blade, Bowen,” she said, small hand out, palm up.

  He did without hesitation. She knelt over the Sunsting, his yellow eyes wide and staring, mouth open as he gasped for air, his lungs slowly filling with blood.

  “Not yet dead, are you? I told you one day you would pay for what you’ve done to me…to all of us.” Without hesitation she raised the dagger and plunged it into his heart. Not quite strong enough to pierce through the chest cavity, she raised up and shoved it all the way in with her full weight. He gasped, eyes glazing. “There now,” she said quietly. “I give you a parting gift. A sharp blade in your black heart. A quick death that you do not deserve.” She leaned closer, her dark hair falling forward to his pale face. “But I will live again, you unforgiveable bastard. And you will not.”