Chapter seventeen
Eisa
We were led by sword point to the Great Hall, and my only comfort was that at least Arik and Jorgen had not been with us and might yet get away.
It was a forlorn hope.
When we entered the hall, the first thing I saw was both of them on their knees before the dais. Jorgen sported a black eye and a split lip, and Arik had a gash across his temple that was slowly oozing blood.
Why weren’t they healing?
“Branka.” It was Jorgen who spoke, his voice full of rage and panic as he saw his mate being marched at sword point by the king’s guard.
Arik’s eyes met mine, and I searched for the familiar feeling of him at the other end of our mental bridge.
He wasn’t there.
Kjaere. My voice sounded panicked in my own head, and I looked at him beseechingly. He shook his head once, the move so small the guards would likely have missed it.
He couldn’t hear me.
Where is my mate? Idunn raged, her fire burning hot inside me. Her panic gripped my heart, making my pulse thunder in my veins. What have they done with him?
Arik’s eyes widened as we drew near, and I knew Idunn must be shining through my eyes.
I don’t know, dearest, but we will find him. I reined her in, not understanding what was going on. He’s not gone. He can’t be gone. Arik would be dead, yes?
Idunn’s panic lessened a fraction as Branka and I were pushed to our knees beside Arik and Jorgen, who both had their hands tied fast behind their backs.
The king hadn’t bothered to shackle either me or Branka after taking the Book and returning it to the skalds, and I thanked the Hearthmother for his misogyny.
If he assumed we were the lesser threat, he was sorely mistaken.
“So.” The king came to stand before us, his hands behind his back and brow furrowed as he looked between me and his son. “You were going to leave against my orders.”
It wasn’t a question, and Arik didn’t bother denying it. He was infuriatingly silent, his indifferent mask firmly in place, and I beat ineffectually at the mental wall that cut me off from him to no avail.
“Explain why you tried to take the Book. Is this about your foolish idea of closing the Rift?”
Arik said nothing.
The king sneered, signaling to one of his guards. “Take her.”
I was lifted to my feet, my arms wrenched back so sharply I couldn’t help but cry out. The cold press of steel dug into my throat, and Arik broke.
“Don’t you fucking touch her.”
“Ah, he speaks!” The king leaned down to look at Arik eye to eye. “I told you I would find a way to motivate you.”
“Let her go, and I’ll tell you anything you want,” Arik said quietly, his eyes pleading.
I pushed and pushed at the wall between us, Idunn lending me her strength. But Baldur was just…gone.
“What have you done to them?” The point of the blade dug in sharply as I spoke. I didn’t care. Idunn’s fury and terror were a raging beast within me. “Where is Baldur?”
“Both of you are so easily motivated.” The king sounded delighted. “And here I thought this might prove challenging. Very well, Arik.”
He waved his hand at the guard, who let me go so abruptly I stumbled.
I could already feel Idunn’s magic working its way toward the strained muscles of my shoulders as I ran for Arik.
I knelt beside him and brushed the blood from his temple, pushing some of Idunn’s magic into him to close the wound.
“Don’t, Kjaere.” The murmured words were a balm to my panic, but Idunn still thrashed around violently as she looked for Baldur. “I’m alright.”
He looked up at his father, stony mask firmly in place as if he couldn’t feel Idunn’s turmoil.
“See that I am a man of my word.” The king held his arms wide, as if he had granted us a gift. “Are you a man of yours?”
“We needs the Book to seal the Rift. We were going to take it and flee back to Ironholm.”
Almost the truth. I was certain Arik had intended us to go to Sigrid first, but the less his father knew, the better.
“I see.” The king sat on his throne and steepled his hands as he regarded his son with a mix of fury and…disappointment? Disgust?
“And my offer meant nothing to you? I offered you a kingdom. A crown.”
“I believe I made my feelings clear,” Arik replied coolly.
The king’s eyes flashed with anger, and he turned his attention to me.
“There are many things of interest in the Book of Chaos. One of them is what makes drage weak. Even dragons are not completely immune to everything, and the Book warns the drage stay away from a few particular things. Iron we all know about, but that’s not enough.
Do you know, Eisa, what works even better? ”
It was the first time I had heard the king use my name, and I hated the sound of it more than whore or thrall.
I emulated Arik and adopted a mask of blank indifference, imagining Arik’s tap of approval against my mind.
No tap came.
“There is one other thing that can separate a drage from his dragon,” the king continued, “and it is, luckily for you, something not widely known.” The king pulled a sprig of something from his breastplate, with long rounded leaves and small white berries.
I frowned, my mask faltering in my confusion. I had only ever seen the plant around the winter solstice, and only when Henrik was trying to draw in customers during a particularly slow season. Sigrid had explained that couples would kiss under a sprig for luck. “Mistletoe?”
The king huffed a laugh, twirling the small bundle of leaves between his index finger and thumb.
“Clever girl. Yes, mistletoe. The plant of lovers. Too much may prove deadly to a man, but to a drage…” He pinched one of the white berries, crushing it between his fingers.
“A small amount added to a carafe of wine will render the bond between man and dragon mute for a while. Several days, in fact, if he drinks enough.”
I gasped in horror at the implication. Jorgen and Arik had both drunk wine the night before. And Arne…
“There are casualties, of course,” the king continued, looking intensely pleased with himself, Jorgen snarled furiously behind me, and Arik was still as a stone statue. “It’s likely Edvard will recover.”
Edvard? I blinked, realizing I hadn’t seen the prince since the training ring. Had he drunk the poisoned wine too? What about Arne?
Drekadrottning. It was Bryndis, sounding just as panicked as Idunn at the loss of her mate. We must leave.
How? I asked her, throwing the question out to Idunn as well. Jorgen and Arik can’t fly.
But you can, Idunn hissed impatiently. And I will burn this king to ash for stealing my mate from me.
I felt Idunn’s fire surge, and I banked it, an idea forming as I quickly glanced around the hall. The doors were barred and guarded and the windows were all too small for Idunn, although Bryndis might manage to squeeze through them.
I looked up, and the plan solidified.
“Let us go.” Arik’s growl reverberated around the hall, even without Baldur’s power behind it. “And we will not burn your fucking castle to the ground.”
The king laughed. “Perhaps I was wrong about you, boy. Perhaps you are all brawn and no brains. With what fire will you burn down my castle?”
I released my hold on Idunn, finding Bryndis’ golden thread and tugging on it hard. “With mine.”
Gold and blue scales and claws surged out from our fragile human forms, the shapes of our dragons filling the space and sending guards scattering. Bryndis laid down a halo of golden flame around us, forcing the king to dive from the dais as she lit his throne ablaze.
“Guards!” The king’s cries were futile, as his men were too terrified to heed them.
With a swipe of one claw, Idunn swept three men against a wall so hard they lost consciousness as Bryndis continued to lay down small blasts of fire that caught the wooden paneling on the walls and the beams of the ceiling.
Idunn swiped her claws through the bindings holding Arik’s wrists while Bryndis did the same for Jorgen.
“Fly, gods damn you!” Arik shouted, smacking Idunn on her rump.
Idunn snorted irritably, snatching up my mate by the collar and depositing him on our back as she began to flap her wings. The hall was just big enough, and Bryndis continued to lay down flame cover, giving us time to get airborne.
Jorgen was on Bryndis’ back, and he whooped as Idunn lifted from the ground and made for the burning beams in the ceiling.
With a blast of blue flame, she opened a smoking hole in the roof.
Bryndis followed, and I heard the king calling for archers as we broke through the wooden beams of the ceiling and launched ourselves into the sky.