Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
When they try to reason, show them how you roast.
-Humaning for Beginners: A Dragon’s Tale of Human Management
Whoa. Not what I’d expected to hear. If not for the Matthias bombshell, I might have laughed. Or not. The glitter of menace in those frozen honey eyes suggested Locke had enjoyed the first kill and highly anticipated the second.
“Matthias was a good man,” I stated, tone flat. Anger churned with increasing speed. Anyone else who, oh, so blithely claimed to murder a dragon would’ve died by my claws already. But I hesitated to strike. He’s Leo’s line.
The professor notched his chin. “Matthias wasn’t a man but a dragon sentinel. That is what you call yourself, yes?”
“Nein.” I notched my chin too. “Some berserker factions might refer to themselves as sentinels to make what we are more palatable to humans. Dragons don’t care what anyone thinks.”
“Dragons don’t care about anything or anyone but their ravenous hunger. Matthias deserved what he got.”
I breathed in and out. We should venture to a new subject before I snapped. “How have you been sneaking into my realm?”
The human smiled ever so slightly. “Are you ready to die, Olyssa?”
And he ignored my question, too. But how dare he use my given name as if we were equals. “I’ve never approached your family of my own free will. Taron. They’ve always summoned me. Yet here you are, seeking to punish me.” As if I hadn’t punished myself.
I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth, hating him, hating how shame burned inward.
“Yes, I do, and I will,” he hissed. “You burned my grandfather to death. I watched as he died, begging for help.”
I shook my head, as much to dislodge his words as to disagree with his statement. “I was there. I would’ve seen you. Would have—”
“No,” he interjected. “My father hid and recorded the encounter. Just as I hid and recorded my father’s. You stood there, bored, as both men screamed.”
My stomach dropped. I couldn’t have missed an audience. There was no way.
“It’s just you and me, majesty,” he finished, sneering the title. “I would never subject a son of mine to a world where monsters like you roam.”
Ouch. I couldn’t even refute him. “Do you think I didn’t have to harden my heart for every encounter? But not even that spared me from centuries of torment.”
“Save your lies. I’m uninterested in hearing them. Today, you will scream for me.” With that, Taron exploded into action. He tossed a dagger in my direction. A dagger I hadn’t known he possessed.
Astonished by his speed and stealth, I didn’t react quickly enough. The blade cut through my shoulder, missing my heart only because I twisted at the last second.
A lance of searing pain wrenched a ragged cry from my lips. Multiple muscles seized, freezing up and refusing to work. In that moment, I could only stand there, observing in shock and horror as he withdrew an iron key from his pocket and unlatched the chains.
His grin returned. “I decided to even the playing field by lacing the blade with skyrend.” The chains fell from his wrists, landing on the ground with a final, ominous clink.
I stiffened. Skyrend, a rare toxin known to temporarily chill a dragon’s fire, the very essence of our strength. Not fatal, but awful.
“You aren’t a mere treasure hunter,” I spat at him. “Not in the traditional sense.”
“Correct. I seek only items I can use to harm beings like you.” He shrugged off his coat, revealing an arsenal of blades strapped all over his body. Weapons I recognized from drawings and books. Things dangerous to my kind.
A chill licked down my spine. Where had he gotten them? How? These armaments belonged solely in the berserker realms, hidden from human eyes.
“I will enjoy teaching you the meaning of pain before I kill you,” he said oh, so calmly, sliding a short sword from its scabbard. “You will learn the agony you inflicted upon a young boy forced to watch as his loved ones burned to death.”
Heart thudding against my ribs, I fought for freedom with everything in me.
High-octane hatred seethed beneath the surface of his skin as he approached, unhurried and unafraid.
This wasn’t happening. I hadn’t survived the loss of my mother and Leopold, a war with my father, and countless challenges from dragon warriors intent on stealing my throne to die at the hands of a Locke.
“Meeting me was their choice,” I reminded him. “They used the chains to summon me, just as you did.”
He wasn’t swayed. “We’re mortals. You’re a dragon. Supposedly the most fierce-willed creature in existence. You should’ve been strong enough to refuse us.”
A claim I couldn’t deny. Guilt punched me.
“My father called you an angel.” Holding my gaze, he stopped only a few feet away. “To me, you are a monster, and the worlds will be better when you’re dead.” He casually lifted the weapons. “Any last words, Your Majesty?”
“Ja.” I narrowed my lids, hiding the infinitesimal movements of my limbs as they unlocked, preparing for war. “What happens next is on you.”
He simply smiled. Then he struck, a swift swing of his sword.
I grabbed the blade with my bare hand, uncaring when the sharp metal hit bone, and threw my body against his, sending him stumbling back. But not before I pocketed two daggers from his arsenal.
His eyes widened as we faced off. “You’re stronger than I expected.”
“Always,” I rasped, blood trickling from my wound. “But compliments won’t save your life.” I couldn’t allow him to walk away from this. To endanger my people at such a volatile time. A true shame. On the plus side, he had no brothers or sons, and his death would end my curse at last.
Then. That moment. It was as if a locked door barring hope creaked open. Freedom beckoned.
Now his lids narrowed. “You’re right. Compliments won’t save me…but my skill will.”
All challenge and defiance, he freed a second sword and motioned me closer. “Come, majesty. Give me your best.”
“Wish granted.” I wasted no time, launching at him.
Steel met steel, sparks stinging the air between us. Taron was fast, astoundingly so, moving, blocking and striking with a hard-won mastery usually only seen in my fellow berserkers. But he’d asked for my best. Pity for him, I obliged.
“From everything I’ve read,” he told me without slowing his strikes, “your skill on the battlefield is unmatched.”
“If anything, the tales underpromise the horrors I’m capable of.” Perhaps I was more like Adelaide than I’d realized. Block. Parry. Twist and duck. Strike. Ja! My blade cut through his thigh.
The injury didn’t slow him down. With my next stab, Taron spun out of range.
We fought across the length of the frost-slick cliff, our boots skidding, our breath pluming white.
I scored the most hits, and without armor, he agonized through each blow.
Good. Usually, I felt sympathy for the Lockes, but this one irritated me.
When I maneuvered him to the edge, he was forced to loosen his grip on a short-sword to maintain balance. The weapon skittered over the precipice a split second before he shoved me out of his space. He palmed a dagger before I completed a follow-up strike.
Hmm. The engraving on the hilt looked familiar. Endless, intricate knotwork with seemingly no beginning or end.
“Ah, recognition of the Yrnblade,” he said, slashing at me. Steel hissed past my cheek. “Legend claims it binds the wielder to whoever’s blood it tastes. If true, and you manage to survive today, I’ll be able to find you, anywhere, anytime. And then, only my nearness satisfies.”
Now I knew why the weapon was familiar. Scorch my tail! It was the same blade Nyla, my father’s firebrand, had lost upon her death. A manticore berserkatrix he’d chosen over those he was supposed to protect.
How did this human recover it?
Brimming with a raw, unparalleled fury, I lunged forward. Strike, strike, strike. “There’s no need to ignite a bond. We’re already shackled by the chains, remember?” Not to mention my family curse.
Taron vaulted clear of my attempts, a wolfish grin flashing in the muted light. “We aren’t shackled like we will be. A single cut ensures you grow desperate to be with me, soon willing to do anything I ask. Even bend a knee and welcome the kiss of my blade, if only to please me.”
Nyla had bragged about the legend too. “Nein, Tarry,” I replied, purposely using the nickname reserved for his friends. “You won’t be asking me anything. You won’t be surviving this encounter.”
Level of violence: cranked to the max. Our huffs and grunts provided a macabre soundtrack as we battled, nothing held back. His speed cranked up, too, baffling me. No mere mortal should move like this.
“You are enhanced in some way,” I accused, dodging his newest strike.
He merely grinned, a cold peeling back of his lips.
Frustration coiled tight in my stomach. He must have found more than mystical weapons and rare toxins.
Pressure built behind my sternum, sharp and insistent. My dragon stirred, heating with renewed fury. My blood heated as well. So did my bones, especially those in my jaw. Despite the Skyrend toxin, my body prepared to spew fire. Roast him!
Taron noticed and doubled his efforts. He feigned right and attacked left.
Like a fool, I fell for it. Not my fault.
For the briefest of moments, a glint of light had melted those frozen honey eyes, making them appear molten.
The Yrnblade grazed my throat, nicking my carotid. An agonized scream split my lips.
Suddenly my limbs felt heavier, my movements fractionally slower. My knees buckled, and I dropped near the edge of the cliff.
Taron swooped closer, sword raised. Though he wasn’t in range of my blood spray, droplets changed course midair to splatter his cheek and throat, as if drawn by a magnetic force.
I readied to spew my flames. Could I? He prepared for a final strike.
Our gazes collided and locked, and both of us froze. Despite my weakening condition, a zing of awareness pierced the stone walls guarding my heart. Something old. Something ancient, as if the rumors behind the Yrnblade were absolutely, 100 percent true.
I slapped my palm on my neck in a vain attempt to staunch the flow of blood and stop any kind of bond from forming. Nein. Not a connection with him. Not him. Not now.
“What’s happening to me?” he demanded, swiping the crimson from his skin before gripping the ring that dangled from the chain around his neck as if his life depended on it. All the while, he glared at me with a strange mix of horror and an awareness all his own.
He must feel the connection growing between us, triggered by contact with my blood.
His breath stalled, and his shoulders stiffened. The air of triumph waned. His gaze lowered to my lips until he forced his focus away.
He took a half step back, as if trying to sever the sudden and unwanted connection between us. It didn’t work. Not for either of us.
He frowned. Desire sparked, and I panicked. Nein! Nein, nein, nein. I could not, would not, desire this man. Not a little, not for a moment. Time to barbecue him. The toxin had worn off. I could do it. I should.
“I can see the fire burning through your veins. You wish to burn me?” Determination hardened his features, and his muscles bunched as if he prepared to do what he thought he must. To take my head and end me. Any second now… “Do it then,” he growled. “It’s why you’re here. Why I’m here.”
A gasp passed my lips. “You want to die now?”
He jutted his chin, torment etching every line of his face.
“I accepted my end before I summoned you. A part of me has always expected to die in your flames. Now, at least, you’ll suffer from my ice and spend the rest of your days plagued by an unquenchable desperation for me…
until you willingly follow me into the abyss. ”
Even as he spoke, heat raced through me. The Yrnblade’s enchantment had taken hold. Unwanted cravings clawed through my body, chasing away any hope of resistance. Whatever barrier stood between us cracked and crumbled. I could no longer fight the cord tugging me toward him. Kill him? I couldn’t.
He wanted to die, so that I would suffer without him. At the thought, something in me clenched. If I could just escape his presence, his lure, maybe I could heal from this. Or find an antidote. Ja, ja. An antidote. Then. Then I could kill him.
There was only one way out of this, with both of us alive…
I crept nearer to the edge of the rockface, halfway expecting him to stop me, but Taron appeared to be fighting his own personal torment.
“Kill me,” he roared.
“Don’t summon me again, professor,” I snapped.
“So that’s how you want to play this?” He traced his tongue over his teeth. “You run for cover and leave your greatest enemy behind. Very well. I won’t summon you. I won’t need to. We’re now connected. You’ll come to me.”
Determined to prove him wrong, I hurled myself over the ledge.