Chapter 42
She staggers on her feet as the guard roughly shoves her beside Julius. A long silver gown twists around her feet as it trails behind her. Her slate-blue eyes scan the throne room, widening when they fall upon me. Tears line them, threatening to fall as her bottom lip trembles.
“See—a family reunion,” Julius chuckles darkly.
But even as he speaks, my eyes don’t leave her.
She’s tall and waif thin. The toned body that the imposter wore must’ve been what she looked like before her kidnapping and subsequent torture, if the scars marking her arms and chest meant anything.
Her hands are tied with a thin black chain, the links so small they resemble that of a snake’s scales.
My blood heats, rage boiling up within me. I take a step forward, but Odessa jerks her head from side to side.
“Un-huh.” Julius wags a finger at me and nods at the guard, who presses the knife against her throat.
The blade nicks her skin, and a bead of pure scarlet runs down her throat and soaks into the glittering silver gown. “You’re going to stay right where you are. Or my rejected mate will have her throat slit.”
His words thunder through me. Rejected. Mate.
Freya’s words from days ago ring in my head. “To deny the bond is to deny fate. Some choose to set sail on their own paths. And it has not ended well.”
I snort. Lachlan and Eira whip their heads to me with twin looks of horror on their faces.
“Is all this,”—I gesture around us—“because you got your feelings hurt?”
“Easy,” Lachlan whispers, gripping his sword tighter in front of him. I shake my head, lowering my axe.
But Julius stands rigidly by the throne, a snarl curling his lips.
“How utterly unoriginal of you. To declare war across the realms because you were spurned by a lover?” I scoff.
His eyes narrow on me before he’s flicking them to Odessa. A well of unending sadness opens when she meets his gaze.
“Is that what you think? That she spurned me?” He licked up the column of her throat, lapping up the drop of blood that had oozed under the tip of the guard’s blade.
My mind grinds to a stop.
“She would have done anything for me, to fix me.” He laughs.
“A mate is a weakness. A useless liability. Look what it’s done to you.
” He nods to me at where I stand beside the love of my life.
“And she,”—he glares at Odessa—“would have ruined me. Would have taken all that I am, the power I was destined for, and twisted it into a figment of my imagination.”
The air burns my throat as I suck in an inhale.
He turns his gaze back to me, the hatred in it gleaming like burning embers.
“I was left on my father’s doorstep. Unwanted.
A male born to a female-only clan of shifters.
And while Marcus was a decent male and tried his best. Nothing could have been done to make me normal.
To make me good.” He spits the word out as if it’s spoiled food.
“I was born with an insatiable need to conquer. Being a lowly council member’s son or the king consort to a kind queen,”—he scoffs, a snarl curling his lip—“pathetic. I was born for greatness. Even if I had to take it myself. I tracked down the woman who conceived me and she was horrified. Utterly horrified that I had accomplished nothing. So I struck her down and set above achieving my greatest desires.”
There’s a rustle of wings behind us. My friends shift on their feet or settle into a more defensive crouch. Impatience looming like the calm before the storm. Waiting. Ready.
“So you’re saying being loved by your father and mate wasn’t enough?”
I still don’t understand his motives. He had love. And now he holds the fate of the world in his hands—unless I can take it from him.
“Love is a weakness!” he spits. “Love will cripple you, and hold you still, while it rips you apart to meld you to another person. I couldn’t allow that to happen. I had to conquer, not be conquered. And there’s no better conquest than ruling the world.”
My attention slides to Lachlan beside me. His jaw is clenched tightly, his strong brow lowered of the familiar pools of green that take my breath away. Loving him has made me stronger—better.
“You’re wrong,” I breathe.
Julius laughs loudly, the sound encompassing the entire room. “You would think that. All you’ve known is love. From your parents to that pathetic male beside you and your court of imbeciles.”
I nod. “So I know what it feels like. The power it gives you.” My eyes slide to Odessa. Her chin lifts, resolution set in the grim line of her mouth. “And I will fight for it.”
His eyes turn steely, the turquoise slipping into a pale blue as the face of my father wavers. “No. You will die for it.”
He snaps his fingers again and the guards around us advance.
Our small unit converges into a circle as we meet his forces head-on. Sword against sword.
Lachlan lunges at the guard closest to us, his sword stabbing straight through his chest. But as he falls, another materializes, taking his place.
Eira swipes out with her needle-like sword and the neck of the guard closest to her rips open. A torrent of blood splashes onto the floor, splattering our legs. She steps over the crumbled corpse, breaking the line.
“Stay together,” I order. And she falls back.
A guard in front of me moves slowly, his movement stilted.
He raises his sword up high above his head.
The vision of him swinging down at me happens a few milliseconds before his sword comes at me.
The impact of his blade against the hilt of my axe has him hurtling away from me and slamming into the stone arches nearest to us.
The chandelier above us shakes, a violent thundering roar spears over the raging battle.
Giants have made it to the door. Fists slam at the carved oak.
I pray to Odin that the locks hold. Bodies litter the marble floor around us, blood pools making the ground slippery as we fight in outward motions.
Heave, slash, lunge.
Block.
Over and over again. Exhaustion weighs heavily on my limbs, my movements becoming slower. Mina raises a small group of soldiers at once, and their bodies are slung across the room.
“I’m losing power,” she grits out. They slam against the stone wall. Bones crack, and flesh thwacks against the floor as they fall.
Luna doesn’t travel or is out of power already and unable to, as she stays right beside Evander. Her eyes simmering with the excitement of battle.
Blood splatters on her face, dripping down the kohl-drawn rune on her cheek. Freya moves like a dancer, spinning and slashing her way through body after body. Odr is brute force. Blasting through guard after guard.
Tane looks just as he did before his injury. His strength rivaling that of Mathilda’s as they cut down man after man.
Balthasar and Eira are mere clones of each other.
Working in succinct harmony to further our line.
I scan the throne room, looking for Julius and Odessa.
He stands casually, watching the battle unfold before he nods at the guard.
The guard hands him his dagger before jumping into the fray.
He’s immediately sent flying through the stained glass window, but I can’t tell if it was from Mina or Balthasar’s wind.
Lachlan grunts, withdrawing his sword from the neck of the man in front of him.
“Go,” he urges, nodding towards Julius. “Save her.”
Odessa looks on with fearful eyes, her hands twisting as she tugs at her bindings. I slip out of the line, Eira and Lachlan converging on the vacancy my absence left. I work towards the dais.
My axe is bloody, my breathing labored as I climb the stairs. Julius yanks her roughly to his side, an arm slung low around her waist. His fingers dig into the flesh right above her hip and she grimaces.
A tear slips down her cheek.
“Lena. No,” she whispers. “Go get the gods.”
“Shut up,” Julius growls, his chin prods against her temple.
I shift my axe from hand to hand, stalking closer to him. My shoulders rise and fall rapidly as I work to slow my breathing.
My medallion has slipped in font of my armor and when the runes flare, it draws both of their eyes. Odessa’s eyes widen as she steps closer, his grip lightens infinitesimally.
The distraction my one small window of opportunity.
I hurl my axe at him. It flies end over end. Time slows to a crawl as it sails between us. Odessa throws herself off the dais and onto the floor at the same time Julius lunges in the opposite direction, towards the throne.
I missed. My axe embeds itself into the stone right above him.
Fuck.
But Odessa is free.
“Go get the gods!” I scream at her.
She stands abruptly, grabbing the hem of her dress in her hands, still chained in front of her. I take a step closer to Julius, drawing my father’s blade, and throw one more glance in her direction. She’s frozen, her eyes darting between me and Julius.
“Odessa go!”
She gives me one last pleading look, tears cascading down her cheeks before she turns and flees. Running through the door, the guards had come through.
“She’ll never reach them in time,” Julius sneers, standing and drawing his own blade.
The room shudders. A ball of flame erupts through the hole in the stained glass window. It slams into the opposite wall, sending tiny sparks all throughout the room. I scan my friends, all alive, battling through the remaining horde of guards. But we’re still outnumbered three to one.
I look back at Julius. A slow, scathing smile stretches his lips wide as he slaps the hilt of my axe. Disgust writhes in my gut. “This is your end.” He points the tip of his sword at me.
My hand grips the hilt and the sapphires press into my skin. As we circle each other. My armor rattles lightly at the fury pulsing through me. I want to kill him. Kill him slowly so he can feel all the pain and suffering he has caused.
“And I’ll make you watch as I cut your precious friends up. Piece by piece.”
I scream. The rage unfurls in me like a torrent of flame from a dragon. And strike out at him.
His eyes widen, but he swats my advance away like it’s no more than a nuisance. Rage grips me, clouding my vision red, and fumbling each of my advances with amateurish accuracy.
Julius sidesteps me and swings. His sword grazes a gap in my armor where my shoulder guards meet my forearm braces. The blade slides along my unprotected flesh, slicing it open.
It burns, wetting my anger into something sharper.
The sounds of the battle rise higher. Grunts, clangs, and moans of the dying. I’m too afraid to look, to see if any of my friends have fallen. But as Julius circles me, the room opens up in my line of sight and I can see who remains standing.
Lachlan still fights, but his movements are sluggish. Mina stands in the protected shadow of Harald, who attacks like a bear, clawing and ripping men in half. Freya and Odr continue to work in unison, their silver armor drenched in blood.
Mathilda clutches her side, blood seeping into her hand from a wound I can’t quite see. But Tane is there, fighting off his enemies and hers. Piominko is on her other side. His jaw moves as he says something to her, and she nods, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.
There is magic here. She will heal.
Eira spits blood on the ground before wiping the red spittle off her lips and punching the man in front of her in the face. The pale blue ribbon is like a waving flag as she throws her whole body behind the punch. Balthasar cracks a weary smile and keeps slashing.
Thunderous booms echo as the giants try to find a way in. But the smell of death shoves its way up my nose. There are demons here, somewhere.
Julius sneers at me. “I see the rest of my troops have arrived at last.”
Fuck. We need our troops. I rub the runes on my medallion in a counterclockwise motion, before turning the entire medallion clockwise.
Open the gates. Open the gates.
My blood drips down my arm, splattering on the floor, and his eyes glow with glee. So much blood, everywhere. On the floors, on the walls, on us. Its coppery tang melds with the cloying stench of the demons and my chest tightens.
“I still don’t understand why,” I grit out.
He shrugs. “And you won’t—ever. You’ll never know what it’s like to desire power. To crave violence instead of the heat of passion. I yearn for the sticky warmth of blood, the feeling of lives extinguished beneath my fingertips. Not the steady, sure beat of a mate’s heart.”
“You’re insane,” I spit. And he grins broadly.
“I might keep you alive. So you can live in my new world. See all the suffering, you might enjoy it as much as I do.”
A vision bursts behind my eyes of him charging at me.
And he does. His sword reared back by his head as he swings.
I duck in time, kicking out.
But he doesn’t trip over his feet. He whirls. Death blazing in his eyes. He has no intention of keeping me alive.
A scream rings out.
Someone has fallen.
But I can’t see who. Not as another vision whizzes by.
He twirls, slashing out with his sword while drawing his dagger.
I’m not quick enough.
His sword slams into my lower back. And although the metal holds keeping him from cutting me down, it doesn’t stop the impact.
I slam face-first onto the ground.
Stars burst behind my eyes and my head pounds.
“Lena!” Lachlan roars. “Get up!”
Get up. Get up. Get up.
The world seems to tilt as I clamber to my feet and sway.
A low, deep chuckle crackles between us.
Memories from our trainings before surface. He likes to emotionally torment me before physically torturing me.
I fell for the first trap already. I will not fall for the second.
Taking a slow, deep breath, I count to four. Steadying myself.
Lachlan’s words from before ring in my ears.
Ye are better than him, believe in yourself.
Fear and anger loosen their grip on my heart and mind. My sight becomes clearer, even though my head still throbs and my body aches.
I can do this.