Chapter 81
GRAESON
The feral drakonises had overrun Frenzia’s capital, pouring from the castle in torrents with curled sneers and deadly talons.
Rancid drool dripped from their tongues.
Graeson’s entire body reeked of it. His clothes were drenched and stuck to his skin.
Every time he got a whiff, he recoiled in disgust.
As iron tainted the air, the dragon within roared as Graeson swung his scimitar.
With every strike, the desire to shift intensified.
His skin itched as the beast begged to break free.
But with one quick scan, Graeson knew there were too many people who would get injured if he did.
The streets were too narrow. If he transformed, it would only result in more chaos, destruction, and death.
Instead, he kept his attention on the battle.
These drakonises were even more aggressive than Nyrri had been when Graeson first encountered her in that crate months ago.
It was as if Sebastian had kept the beasts locked inside the cells beneath the castle without food for days, perhaps even weeks, to increase their hunger and anger. But Graeson would not be deterred.
He fought alongside Kalisandre, their movements in perfect harmony.
They had fought against each other on several occasions and trained together throughout the past few weeks.
He knew when she would strike by the shift in her stance, when she would dip by the sharp inhale she would take.
With the bond flowing freely between them, their movements were fluid, a ballad twisting around their enemies.
When he looked at her next, he did a double take that nearly cost him his ear.
Kal struggled against a drakonis. The beast chomped at her ankles, forcing her to tumble across the ground, beneath the drakonis’ belly.
On one knee, she twisted the dagger in her hand.
While she was skilled with the blade, it required her to get much closer to the creatures than Graeson would have liked.
He yanked his scimitar from his most recent kill and swiped the blade across his trousers. As she somersaulted away from another attack, he slid across the ground, meeting her.
"Take it," he urged, holding out the clean scimitar.
"I’m fine," she argued.
He pressed the hilt into her hand, anyway. "Use it, Kalisandre."
Her hand wrapped around the hilt, and they reentered the fight, charging in opposite directions.
When the hoard had appeared, Graeson had debated telling Kalisandre to turn back. He didn’t want her to get hurt. He wouldn’t be able to handle it if she did. Their bond was still new, but he knew without a doubt that it would destroy him if it was severed.
He couldn’t lose her. Not now, not ever.
But when he had looked at Kal and seen her readying for battle, her stance strong, unmoving, and unshakable, he knew his plea would be a waste of breath. Kalisandre’s mind was set. There would be no changing it. Graeson knew that better than most.
Still, he would have been lying if he said his heart didn’t quake every time a drakonis targeted her.
All around him, the motley crew of soldiers, both trained and untrained, fought valiantly. Blades sliced through the tough skin of the drakonises. Arrows drove into their chests, backs, and wings—anywhere that would slow them down.
Sweat dripped down Graeson’s back, dampening his shirt and causing it to stick to his skin.
He didn’t let up, though. He kept fighting, as did everyone.
He slashed his blade across fur and scales, spun away from webbed wings that threatened to knock him down, dodged the sharp canines of another.
But at some point, between blows and grunts and despite his best efforts, Kalisandre vanished from his view.
Frantic, he searched for her. As he spun on his feet, a drakonis knocked him flat on the ground, stealing his breath away.
The need to find Kal, to ensure she was safe, surged through his veins. With the adrenaline pumping through him, Graeson sliced his scimitar across the beast’s neck and rolled, narrowly missing the outpouring of guts and blood.
He leaped to his feet and scanned the street. The clash of steel rang in his ears. His muscles strained as he grabbed onto the jaws of his next opponent. Then he finally spotted her in the thick of the fray, shielding one of their soldiers.
Kal swung the scimitar with deadly precision, as if it had been made for her. But she was losing the battle, and the other soldiers were scattered across the area, too far to help.
The beast’s jaw snapped in Graeson’s hands. A mangled screech spilled from its mouth, and Graeson drove his blade through its heart before abandoning it.
Graeson ran harder as the drakonis towered over Kal. He whistled, and the creature snapped its head in Graeson’s direction. Snarling, it turned, its tail swinging around and its previous victims forgotten.
As Graeson taunted the creature, Kallie slid beneath the creature’s belly as the man she was protecting cowered in a crouch.
The drakonis bore its razor-sharp teeth, and saliva hung from its canines.
An odious stench dripped from its mouth.
As it inhaled, a small light ignited within the back of the creature’s throat.
The moment the creature was about to exhale a river of fire at Graeson, it choked on its scream as Kallie shoved her blade through its stomach.
A cry poured from its mouth, the sound shattering a glass window into thousands of pieces.
As the drakonis collapsed, Graeson jerked forward, his lungs dropping into his stomach.
"Kal!"
What had he done? He grabbed his chest, his fingers curling into the fabric, threatening to rip it to shreds as he looked on with horror.
Silence blanketed the space as the soldiers turned toward them.
The rest of the drakonises in the vicinity either had been slain or had flown off, escaping death.
Most of their group had survived this first attack, but he had never thought Kallie wouldn’t.
He reached for the bond. It was still there, but he couldn’t tell if his mind was playing tricks on him.
"That was close."
Graeson snapped his head up. His heart stammered as Kalisandre stood on the other side of the drakonis’ limp form.
She tossed her hair back, shoving it away from her face. "Thanks for the assist, Gray," she said with a wink. She swiped her hand across her forehead, smearing dark blood across her skin. As if feeling the foreign liquid, she looked down at her hand and shivered in disgust.
"Thanks for the assist? You nearly died!" he shouted, running to her and grabbing her waist.
She placed her hands on his chest and smirked. Beads of sweat rolled down her forehead. "I had it covered."
He scoffed, shaking his head. "By the gods, woman. What am I going to do with you?"
"You’ve been chasing after me this entire time, and you’re just now asking that?" She clicked her tongue. "I thought gods were smarter than that."
"Half god," Graeson corrected. He wiped the blood from her forehead, then brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. His eyes bounced across her face.
Kallie took a step closer, their breaths mingling in the space between them. He didn’t know who leaned first, but he supposed it didn’t matter. Especially not as a man stumbled over, interrupting.
"Thank you," the soldier Kallie had shielded said, panting.
Taking a step back from Graeson, Kallie nodded at the man and turned her attention to the soldiers.
They both knew they wouldn’t be able to sustain this pace for much longer.
Throughout the capital, the fires had started up again after an onslaught of explosives early in the fight.
Whether luckily or unluckily, Kallie and his party only encountered drakonises.
The soldiers had to be somewhere, though.
"We need to find Rian and the others," he said.
"Which way?" Kallie asked.
Graeson closed his eyes and took a deep breath, calming his senses.
He could hear Kallie’s breathing slowly evening out.
Behind them, he heard the scraping of a sword on the ground as a soldier stood on shaky legs.
Groans and hisses escaped the lips of those wounded in the battle.
Further away, though, there was the clash of metal, followed by the now too familiar screech of the beasts.
"That way," Graeson said, pointing.
Kallie’s knuckles blanched around the hilt of her stained dagger. "We finish this. Today."
Then they were off, sprinting down the street toward the cries of the dying. But as they ran, all Graeson could think about was that he hoped the day would not finish them first.
They rounded a corner, then another. The familiar pound of wings beating against the wind sounded behind them. Graeson spun as a soldier nocked back an arrow. Before Graeson could move, Kallie sprinted past him, shouting.
The soldier didn’t hear her, though. The bowstring became taut as he inhaled. Then, Graeson’s heart leaped into his lungs as the man took aim and Kallie ran in its path.