36. Tooth and Claw
Tooth and Claw
W here did the screams end and the sound of glass shattering on the floor begin?
I couldn’t tell. Running feet and clanking armor joined the clamor, and I glimpsed silver-tipped spears in my periphery.
All around me, people fled, covering their faces against the deadly rain.
I was dimly aware of a stinging pain against my cheeks and wet warmth trickling over my skin.
Blood? Tears?
Corbyn landed on the slate floor with an ear-splitting crack, letting loose another roar that shook my bones. His tail whipped out and smashed into one of the pillars supporting the gallery. Granite and plaster crumbled away from the platform, sending up puffy clouds of dust and debris.
Someone shouted my name, but I couldn’t make out the source amidst all the chaos.
Vilke was no longer looking at me, her dagger appearing comically small as she faced down the ruby red dragon.
Corbyn’s body blocked the dais, so I couldn’t see where Lenn was.
And when I looked to the side, Trygg had vanished.
As my blood surged and panic overtook me, I found my arms and legs much more willing to obey my command.
I scrambled away from Vilke and the Hersir, their silver spears gleaming wickedly under the torches.
Though Corbyn’s fangs and twisting black horns shined brighter than their spears ever could.
His eyes—great pools of burnished gold—blazed with unchecked fury.
His gaze landed on me momentarily, and then his maw opened wide, revealing deadly fangs. Smoke seeped from the depths of his throat and a deep rumble vibrated in his scaled chest.
Vor, move! the Shadow cried.
This time, my legs obeyed. I vaulted to my left, landing painfully on my shoulder as a wave of heat engulfed the throne room.
A cry escaped my lips, and I raised a hand to shield my eyes from the blinding light.
The roar of the fire drowned out the screaming and shouting, enough for me to focus through the last traces of fog lingering in my mind from the drugged food.
Get ready, I rasped to the Shadow, struggling to my feet as the ground shook again.
I opened my eyes and saw cracks spider-webbing across the floor.
They branched out from a jagged wall of stony earth jutting up in the middle of the room.
Vilke and the Hersir stood behind it, the Jarla’s power the only thing shielding them from the blast.
Corbyn’s front leg shot out, his talons swiping across the makeshift barricade and crumbling it to pieces.
“Flank him!” Vilke shouted, waving her arm. There were a few Hersir closer to the dais already moving that way. Those were the ones that had been guarding Trygg. Where was he?
A strong hand suddenly gripped my waist, drawing a gasp out of me. I spun around, ready to claw someone’s eyes out. But the shadow of black diamond wings stalled my panic.
“Trygg,” I breathed, my relief fleeting. Both of us flinched as several smaller jets of flame erupted on the other side of the throne room. I looked over and saw Lukas tripping over himself to avoid being smashed by Corbyn’s spiked tail, releasing the flames from his hands as he ran.
The Shadow buzzed violently, and I wasn’t sure if it was her hatred or my own that flooded my mind. My senses were sharpening by the second. The darkthread solidified in my chest, trembling under the rage of emotion.
I’m going to kill him, I whispered. The thought appeared suddenly, as cold and serious as the honed edge of a dagger.
Count me in, the Shadow growled back.
Trygg hands landed on my shoulders. “Leave him. We have to get you out of here.”
I snapped my gaze back to his face, his cheeks streaked with dirt and grime and his silver eyes burning. Whether an after-effect of the drug they’d slipped me, or a byproduct of my fury, my hands shook at my side.
“He betrayed me,” I said, voice deceptively calm. “They were going to have me killed.”
“I know.” He ducked his head, staring hard into my eyes. “But now is not the time. We need to get you to safety first. You’re still weak, and Arlbright can’t hold them off forever.”
I glanced back at the ruby dragon where he stood amongst shards of glass and debris, snapping at the spear tips jabbing toward him.
Only about fourteen of the nearly forty Hersir were here, and that didn’t even take the City Guard or the Jarlum’s personal households into account.
They’d be upon us any minute. Lenn was nowhere to be found, and I wasn’t sure if Trygg was able to Shift into his beast form right now.
But even if he was, he was so large he’d bring the whole Citadel down on top of us.
We were outnumbered.
I looked at Trygg, chills stippling along my arms and chest.
We. The three of us against hundreds.
Four, the Shadow amended softly.
His presence tugged at the bond, making the Shadow retreat. The time for retribution will come, he said, hands tightening on my shoulders. What matters more is that you’re alive to see it come to pass.
Whether I liked it or not, he was right. And we were running out of time.
At the barest nod of my head, he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward Corbyn’s rippling, scaled form.
My legs were still heavy, but they at least supported my weight now.
Trygg’s grasp kept me from stumbling too badly over the chunks of granite, slate, and plaster littering the floor.
In the corner of my eye, Lukas stared after us, his face a terrifying mask of unbridled rage.
But it wasn’t him I looked for amidst the frenzy.
Where’s Lenn? I shouted through the connection, ducking as Corbyn’s wing swept over our heads. Trygg wrapped his dark wing around me, pulling me into his side to avoid a chunk of pillar flying past us.
I don’t know, he replied, vaulting over a prone form decked in leather and polished steel.
I looked down long enough to see a mane of strawberry blonde hair… Oiva. Bile burned my throat. No time to think about it. We had to get out. That was the quickest and easiest way to keep anyone else from dying that didn’t need to.
I’m not leaving without him, I said, jerking Trygg’s arm and pulling us to a stop.
His face brimmed with barely contained frustration, but I planted my feet, sending my determination down the bond.
Asvoria, he warned, glancing behind me as he calculated the chaos all around us. We don’t have time. Lenn made it extremely clear that we were not to wait for him. We need to leave. Now.
Something strange settled in me as his words sank in. Lenn all but admitted to helping Corbyn avoid detainment, but realizing now that he’d gone so far to ask Trygg for help… All the fight rushed out of me.
They’re going to kill him. Even my voice in my head sounded weak. The Shadow waited silently in her corner, though her sadness mingled seamlessly with my own.
It’s a sacrifice he was willing to make, Trygg urged, a quiet note of pity in his voice. It echoed in my chest, the darkthread quaking softly.
My mother’s face floated before my mind’s eye. Only the briefest glimpse, but it tugged painfully at my heart. From the look on his face, I wondered if Trygg saw her too, or only felt the depth of my sadness.
I already lost her, I said. I can’t lose him too.
A breath-stealing ache stole through my chest. I know, Trygg replied, pained understanding in his voice. But Vor, this is bigger than you. If you have any hope of setting this right, we have to get you out now. Once you’re safe, we’ll figure out how to get Lenn. Please.
I recognized the Shadow’s desire to interject and voice her agreement with the dragon prince.
But I didn’t need to hear what she had to say.
I knew they were right. Vilke wouldn’t hesitate to kill me if I tarried any longer.
But maybe she’d hesitate to kill Lenn if she thought she could use him to her advantage.
It was a chance at buying some time—a chance I had to take.
Slowly, I nodded, not trusting my mind to speak the words. If I thought about it one second longer, my resolve would waver. I needed to be strong. For myself, and for Lenn.
With a sharp nod of his own, Trygg pulled me forward again.
We kept low as Corbyn shifted to the side, nearly knocking us over.
I grit my teeth and tried to focus on staying upright as Corbyn let out another furious roar.
The shards of glass littering the floor tinkled with the vibration, and a few more loose pieces of plaster shook off the ceiling.
As long as he kept everyone else distracted long enough for Trygg to fly the two of us out, I didn’t care what he destroyed.
Trygg came to a stop behind Corbyn’s right foreleg, craning his neck to look up at the shattered dome. “Right,” he said aloud, throwing another glance all around us, “up you go.” His hands were on my waist before I could stop him.
“What!” I shouted, panic seizing my limbs. My feet landed atop Corbyn’s scaly elbow, and I had to grasp one of the gleaming black spines running the length of his back to keep from falling.
Even amid a life-or-death situation, somehow, Trygg managed to find that playful smirk, a mischievous glint sparking in his silver eyes. “I don’t think you want a repeat of our earlier flight, hiska, ” he said, his hand gripping my calf lightly. “It’s easier this way.”
Corbyn’s massive head swung back toward us for a brief moment, snorting impatiently.
I yelped as he drew back his leg, lifting me up in front of his wing bone and shrugging me onto his shoulders.
There was a little hollow at the base of his neck—right above where his wings protruded—where his spikes stopped, and I did my best to settle there.
Gripping the neck spike in front of me tightly, I looked down at Trygg.
What about you? I asked, unable to keep the fear from my voice.
His smirk widened into a reassuring smile. I’m right behind you.