24. Randi
Chapter 24
Randi
A crow caws. I squint into a harsh midday sun, the taste of scorched earth thick in the air. The riverbank is strewn with my past. Bodies lie in an endless sea of devastation that makes it feel as if the world under my feet will split wide open.
The earth doesn’t quake, but I do—because Gunnar and Fennik sit at my feet. Erik too. Their wolves are lifeless before me, eyes open but unseeing.I scream for help until my throat is raw, wishing for death to take me too. The scream comes out as a stream of fire, and the world burns.
But I remain.
A silky, swirling smoke surrounds me, a cooling caress that ices the raging fire.
I blink, and I’m standing in front of the Alpha King. Only I’m not me. I’m watching as the all-seeing crow.
“Where is she?” the king growls.
The serpent—the one who claimed me—shrugs, his shadows calm. “Turns out she was right.”
“What?” the king snarls, his eyes flashing. He shreds his human skin, fangs bared.
The wolves closest to him crouch, taking a defensive position.
“Apparently, we can’t be trusted not to switch sides.”
The serpent strikes with a slice to the throat, his movements so quick they’re over before he finishes the words. The wolves around the king attack, but the serpent’s smoke swirls, a cyclone of death until they all fall.
The serpent bends over the destruction and yanks out one of the king’s fangs, stuffing the trophy in his pocket.
Smoke creeps into the edges of my vision until the world fades.
I’m transported to the dark Northern Forest, the smell of blood thick in the air. The same serpent is on his knees, pleading with another of his kind, the mating rune on his chest glowing.
“She is my mate. My fated mate. Look at the rune.”
The raven-haired serpent from the Council meeting looks torn.
The serpent sounds devastated. “You know what that means. It changes everything. You are bound to honor my mate. We are sworn to protect her.”
Before I’ve processed his declaration, I’m in the king’s office, watching myself while the serpent hides in the shadows. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, but there is a tugging. He’s drawn to me, fascinated and curious.
The smoke comes before I’m ready, then I’m in the hallway outside the door where we stayed for the Council meeting. The serpent watches impatiently, his anxiety rising with each hour I don’t run.
Too quick, I’m back in the forest. I see his eyes widen, the rune glowing brightly on his chest. His desire to claim me is so overwhelming that my teeth ache in sympathy.
I’m whisked through scene after scene, with no order or clear path between them. There are too many to process, moving so fast I barely see them. The experience is dizzying, twisting something deep inside my chest.From my strange crow position, I feel the scenes as much as I watch them. Some scenes are so out of context all I can understand is what he feels.
His emotions are overwhelming, my body vibrating with the energy around me until smoke rises once again, blocking out this strange world of dreams. A voice calls from the edges of the smoke, soft and sorrowful, but I can’t make out the words. The smoke is a silky lullaby that sings of safety with each caress, and my eyes close.
“Randi.” Fennik’s panic-filled voice pulls me from a deep sleep.
I shoot up, bleary-eyed and heart racing. “Where are we?”
It’s late afternoon, the golden light spilling in from a crack in the long, plush curtains. I don’t recognize the swanky crimson-and-gold room with its Art Deco patterns. The last thing I remember is the riverbank.
At the reminder, a chill sweeps through my body, and the images of my dead wolves in the dream are all I can see. A cry lodges in my throat, and my palms squeeze, the prick of something sharp digging into my skin. I uncurl my hand, my mind racing when I realize it’s a wolf’s fang.
My strange dream. The king.
I stare at the white fang gleaming in my hand, trying to understand. It’s an illusion. Another of the serpent’s mind tricks. It must be.
“The hallway is clear, but we must go now before someone returns,” Fennik urges. He keeps talking, but I can’t focus.
I’m slow as Fennik bustles around the room, stuffing himself into too-small clothes. Under other circumstances, it would be funny to point out how his bulging calves strain the fabric of the sweatpants. Still, I can’t muster anything more than groggy confusion.
He tosses me a T-shirt, and I struggle, unwilling to put the fang aside. Fennik’s arms are there, pulling the shirt over my head, and I surrender until the overly big shirt pools on my thighs.
Fennik’s hand cups my jaw, his eyes frantic. “We’re with the serpents. In their territory, I think. We have to go. Gunnar is still unconscious.”
His fingers skirt over the bite mark on my shoulder, and my body tenses. It’s a live wire of raw sensitivity, the magic electric. I stumble from the bed and out of his arms, unable to talk about what happened when I don’t understand it myself.
My eyes land on Gunnar. His big, beastly form is unmoving, and his body is covered in blood-soaked bandages.
Inside, my sleepy dragon roars to life with a great burst of fire, filling me with the urge to run.
“I’ve got him,” Fennik urges. “Once we get outside, can you shift and fly?”
I nod, watching as Fennik gently scoops up our mate. Gunnar groans in pain but doesn’t stir.
The ornate hallway is empty, as are the stairs. I move quickly, my dragon’s fire ready in my throat as we weave quietly through another hallway and an identical staircase. Three more floors are just as quiet and opulent as the rest.
“This is too easy,” Fennik whispers behind me.
I swallow around the fire in my throat. I don’t know how I know, but I’m certain the serpent has left us a path to escape.
A memory of him gently treating my wounds comes unbidden, and I squeeze the fang in my palm.
It’s all part of the illusion, a dream. Don’t trust the serpent.
On the last floor, raised voices carry from below. The words dragon and mate rise above the rest, but I don’t stop to listen. I creep down the landing and across the open foyer, but the floor remains empty like the rest on our journey.
The door slips open silently, and I wait for Fennik to carry Gunnar through before rushing onto a gravel drive and sprawling manicured lawn.
The shift comes easily, and my heart bursts with gratitude for my dragon’s return. She is anxious, her eyes cataloging threats as she bows, using her tail to lift Fennik and Gunnar onto her back and nestling them between two spikes. Fennik grabs hold, and my dragon leaps into flight.
No one comes, and she easily takes to the air. She flies high and fast, wanting to avoid detection while unprotected from cloaking spells in human territory. Every mile she flies, the burning tug in my chest urges me back to the serpent.
It’s not real. It’s a trick.
The fang curled in my dragon’s claw is heavier than the wolves on her back, screaming its objection.