CHAPTER 13
Jakob
Six months did nothing.
Jakob had tried everything from exercise to extra duty as if the right combination of restraint and exhaustion might cauterize a wound that refused to close.
He buried himself in council meetings and border patrols, in trade disputes and ceremonial nonsense that once bored him to tears and now barely registered at all.
He signed orders without remembering the content they contained.
He nodded through arguments that he barely heard and barked instructions for tasks he had no recollection of.
When all that failed, he turned to violence.
He hunted beasts in the high mountains until the cold gnawed his bones raw and pain became a language he could almost understand. He flew to heights unknown before and roared until his throat was raw.
None of it dulled the ache caused by Mallory’s absence.
At night, when the palace fell silent and the corridors echoed only the moans of a drafty castle, his dragon paced endlessly beneath his skin.
It was a vast, coiled presence that scraped against his ribs and snarled at shadows and half-remembered scents that clung to the air like a taunt.
It remembered her. Remembered her warmth and laughter that did not belong to him.
It demanded the one thing Jakob refused to give it.
Find her.
“I won’t,” Jakob said through clenched teeth as he stood alone in the palace training chamber. Sweat slicked his skin despite the cold stone walls and his breath came too fast and shallow. “She deserves a life untouched by us.”
He drove his sword into the practice post with a roar with the blade sinking deep enough to split the reinforced oak.
The impact shuddered up his arms, jarred his shoulders, and rang through his bones.
The post cracked with a sound like a breaking rib.
His reflection wavered in the polished steel.
His eyes were too bright, his jaw clenched too hard, and his control stretched so thin it trembled.
He wasn’t sleeping. And when he did, he dreamed of her laughter echoing through stone halls that had never known joy. He dreamed of reaching for her and finding emptiness instead. He would wake with her name burning his tongue and nothing would quench the flame.
His reprieve from her memory came in the form of trouble throughout the town.
It had started after Mallory’s departure.
Little things like broken lanterns along the outer roads, livestock found stolen, and crude graffiti scrawled on buildings had popped up, but Jakob had dismissed it as trivial vandalism, the sort of nuisance that flared and died without the need for royal attention.
Bells rang at odd hours now, not for ceremony, but for chaos by sounding false alarms. There were sabotaged pulleys on the gates and then poisoned wells discovered just in time.
Someone had released a pen of mountain boars into the farmer’s market during peak hours and turned a day of shopping into screaming panic.
Then, three nights ago, one of the guard barracks had been set on fire, not enough to destroy it, but just enough to make a point.
Now, standing amid the most current wreckage, Jakob recognized the arrogance of that mistake. The Ruecrags were no longer content with simple acts of vandalism.
The western tower of his own castle now bore fresh scars where stone had been blackened by crude explosives. The ancient masonry had cracked like bone beneath the blast.
His scouts’ reports confirmed what his instincts already knew. The vandals were a splinter faction of the Skelvarns from a nearby province, who were a rebellious group with the sole mission to destroy the monarchy. They had recently been ousted by King Sven of Stagholt.
The Skelvarns, and now the Ruecrags, were men and women with nothing left to lose and a hatred that dated so far back they most likely had no idea what it was about. They were the most dangerous kind. They were desperate, organized, and unafraid to provoke a king if it meant being seen.
Jakob stood on his balcony and stared down at the vandalized courtyard, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached.
Guards scrubbed at symbols of chaos spraypainted on the garden walls below, the same walls he had admired during the ball.
Their movements were tense and their eyes darted around as if they expected another attack at any moment.
If she had still been in Onyxheim, Jakob would have brought Mallory to the castle for her own safety.
While damage had been done to his home, it still provided a level of protection that he could defend.
He would have wrapped her in walls and guards and promises he could not fully keep, whatever it took to keep her safe.
He turned away sharply as he tried to wipe the thoughts from his mind. He had made his choice. He would not call her. Would not beg her back. Would not place a human woman at the center of a kingdom that had survived by devouring weakness.
Even if every instinct in him screamed that the world was safer when she was near. The truth settled heavy in his chest, unwelcome and unavoidable.
He could crush the Ruecrags with force alone, but it would cost lives, loyalty, and time he no longer had. And there was only one man who knew how Skelvarns operated, how they hid, and how they bled.
King Sven.
Jakob’s hand tightened on the balcony rail. Asking Sven for help meant swallowing pride sharp enough to draw blood. The dragon bristled at the thought, low and furious. So did Jakob.
But a king who refused counsel was a king who doomed his people.
With a slow, steady breath, Jakob straightened.
The best course of action was counsel with King Sven, even if it tore at what little pride Jakob had left.
He set out before the sun broke over the horizon.
Stagholt’s streets were quiet in the early morning hours. King Sven met Jakob in the high hall with open hands and wary eyes.
“Jakob,” Sven said, clasping his forearm. “You look thinner.”
“The dragon isn’t,” Jakob replied dryly. Royals didn’t have to hide their inner secrets.
Sven snorted. “That’s usually the problem.”
They spoke first of borders and raids, of how Sven had shattered the Skelvarn leadership months earlier. He had jailed their leaders, burned their caches, and ripped away their relevance. Ruecrags, Sven explained, were what remained. Those who were too bitter to surrender and too broken to rebuild.
“Desperate men,” Sven said. “They don’t want victory. They want impact.”
Jakob’s jaw tightened. “They’ve found it.”
Later, after maps were rolled away and the hall emptied, Bryn entered quietly with a tray of cups. Human and mated to Sven. Mallory instantly blasted into his mind.
Jakob’s dragon also noticed immediately.
It rose, alert and watchful, every sense sharpening but not with hunger, but with a fierce, unsettling protectiveness.
Bryn smiled at Jakob as she set down the drinks. “You’re welcome in Stagholt as long as you need, King Jakob.”
Her gaze held no fear.
Jakob inclined his head and was careful to remain still. “You rule a brave house.”
“I rule a stubborn one,” she corrected gently and rested a hand on Sven’s shoulder. “And I married into it.”
“Do you ever regret leaving your old life behind?” The question slipped out before he realized he spoke.
She shook her head and kissed her husband’s cheek. “Not one moment.”
When she left, Jakob exhaled slowly, as though he’d been holding his breath the entire time.
“She knows what you are,” he said.
“And chooses me anyway,” Sven replied. He poured the drinks and dismissed the guards. “That part was harder to accept than the danger.”
The word danger echoed.
“I loved a human woman once,” Jakob admitted.
Sven waited silently.
“I still do,” Jakob admitted. “Every instinct in me wants to bring her back. Lock the gates. Burn the world if it comes too close.”
“And instead?”
“And instead I let her go,” Jakob said hoarsely. “Because my instincts would get her killed.”
Sven studied him for a long moment. “Or they might save her. Dragons aren’t only destroyers, Jakob. We are also wardens and capable of incredible love.”
Jakob stood before he could respond. He hadn’t expected such a simplistic explanation. He left Stagholt before lunch.
Sven’s words haunted him all the way back to Onyxheim.
That night, the castle alarms rang.
Jakob was in his chambers when the alert sounded, sharp and unmistakable. Intruders.
He moved fast and his dragon rose hot and eager beneath his skin. Guards converged in the lower hallway and flanked him as he hurried to find answers.
Someone had breached the treasury corridor which was no small feat without inside knowledge or desperation bordering on madness.
Whichever was the case, they caught one of the intruders at dusk.
One of the Ruecrags. Barely more than a boy. Jakob smelled fear on him, along with a body that hadn’t seen a shower in a long time, and almost gagged at the stench.
Jakob dismissed everyone but two guards and approached the boy, slowly and deliberately with each step an act of control.
“You defaced my home,” Jakob said softly. “You frightened my people.”
“We…we needed supplies.”
Jakob leaned closer. “You chose the wrong kingdom to steal from.”
At first, the boy chose silence.
“What’s your name?” He could see the boy’s lip quiver and wondered if he would cry.
No answer.
“I’m only going to ask you one more time. If you don’t answer me, things are about to get a lot worse for you.” Part of Jakob wanted the boy to choose the hard road, but part of him already felt sorry for the kid.
“Lars,” the boy whispered.
“Tell me, Lars. Why did you think it was a good idea to attack the castle?”
“We…I was hungry.”
“And instead of earning your way, it’s easier to steal it? Whose idea was it to terrorize my town?”
“It wasn’t the plan,” Lars blurted. “At least not at first,” he mumbled.
“Not at first? Robbing my treasury wasn’t your objection?”
He shrugged. “It was tonight. But this…this was after.”
Jakob’s pupils narrowed. “After what?”
Lars swallowed hard. “After we failed.”
“Failed at what,” Jakob demanded in a low voice and layered with something not entirely human.
“We were supposed to have a big payday. One that would keep us fed for a long time.” His eyes met Jakob. “We’ve been so hungry since we lost support from the Skelvarns. But everything went wrong.”
Jakob waited but Lars didn’t say anything else. He turned to the guard. “Make sure everyone is alert. This kid didn’t act alone so there are others.”
The guard nodded and headed out. Jakob turned back to Lars who sat at the table mumbling to himself.
Lars slapped the table. “If only she hadn’t left. We never would have come into town if we got the ransome. This whole thing is so stupid.”
Something sent a cold chill up Jakob’s back. He sat across from Lars. “Who left?”
“Oh. I don’t…I mean…I just…”
“You were going to kidnap someone?”
“Just for the ransom. Someone always pays a big ransom.”
“Who?”
Lars glanced up and froze as he stared at Jakob.
“Tell me,” Jakob growled. His restraint was quickly cracking. He watched all the remaining color drain from Lars’ face and was afraid the kid wouldn’t speak again.
Lars squeaked. “Some woman. She was here and we were supposed to grab her, but she… well, she was always with you. And then she just left before we could do anything.”
Jakob snapped as he realized they were after Mallory. The room shook as his inner power ripped free of its leash. Jakob seized Lars by the throat and lifted him effortlessly. Fury rolled off him in waves.
“You will tell me everything,” Jakob snarled. “Who planned it. Who knew she was here. Who thinks they can touch what is mine.”
Lars’ eyes were wide and terrified. Jakob dropped him back into the chair.
“Because my restraint ends here,” Jakob whispered. “And if someone is after Mallory, I need to know. Right. Now.”
Six months of restraint shattered in an instant. He needed to find Mallory.