Chapter Seventeen #2
To the right, shielded by his pack mates, Bjorn sneered, lips etched in mirth. He raised a brow that taunted, Let’s see what you’re made of, pup.
Eldrick drew his shoulders back, and engaged the power of his alpha baritone into his next words. “Evelyn isn’t here, Prince Riven. Leave these lands.”
The Vadon Mountains shifted. Crows shot through the night and cawed their retreat, becoming lost behind the gray snow clouds hovering above the village. The warriors at his back tightened the grip on their weapons and shields. No one breathed or moved.
Riven snickered, flashing a fang. “That is shame. I didn’t come all this way to leave empty-handed, wolf. Give me someone else, then. Perhaps my sister? I know she’s here, smell her on you. Hand Tovi over, and I’ll leave your village intact.”
Eldrick’s blood turned to ice. His fingers twitched with the remembrance of Tovi’s flesh. An uncontrollable growl vibrated through his chest. Pain seared through his hand. Moons, his claws threatened to emerge. Eldrick reined in his wolf, pulling them back.
“Never,” he snarled.
“No?” Riven laughed, wet and hollow. “Hmm, what about your mother, then? Not my first choice, but she is a spy and traitor to my court. Punishment is due. Surely, you won’t choose vampyrs over your pack, will you?
Come, come, Tala,” Riven cried out over the gathered crowd.
“Save your son from embarrassment and show yourself.”
“Her true name is Nadia Drengr.” Aramis’s voice severed the tension as he weaved his way through the warriors.
He laid a reassuring hand on Bétar’s shoulder, pushing past him and joining Eldrick’s side, sword in hand.
Green eyes piercing. Muscles taut. Blood soaking his left brow.
The pale light of the night caught the silver in his hair, and Eldrick’s jaw hardened.
Was his father ready for battle?
“Nadia is the female alpha of the Drengrs and has hence returned home. You, Prince Riven, are not permitted on these lands. Leave now, or you’ll face the valor of werewolves.”
At those words, the Drengr Pack beat their fists against their shields. Eldrick’s wolf paced and snarled, awaiting his father’s command.
But then he spied Lorkan, paler than usual.
Stone-faced. Moons. Eldrick hadn’t revealed that truth in his letters for fear of this risk—Prince Riven discovering his mother’s identity.
Hurt and disbelief marred his brother’s face.
Eldrick’s chest tightened, and he severed their tense stare. Later, he swore.
Riven pointed the tip of his blade at Aramis. “I’ll give you one last chance. Turn her over, and I’ll not burn your village to the ground.”
Snow drifted on the wind, and the village fell silent enough to hear the gentle whisper of flurries as they landed.
Aramis’s jaw ticked, a similar reaction to Eldrick’s moments ago when Dalinda had suggested turning over Tovi.
His mother was the alpha, but she, too, was a vampyr.
His father’s choice influenced the Earl vote, and by Bjorn’s triumphant stance, the alpha knew it, too.
“No,” Aramis said. “Your blood will soak my blade before I allow you to touch her.”
Riven snorted. “What a shame.”
The prince blurred as he spun, a flurry of white and gold.
His cape billowed behind him as he charged.
Ingrid followed, her dark winds whipping to the warriors on the right.
Fighting ensued. Bétar led werewolves in formation, shields bracing as vampyrs emerged from the shadows of the forest, blades and talons sheathed.
Yen’s battle cry pierced the air, and arrows fell from the sky with the snow.
Metal clanged as Aramis and Riven clashed. Eldrick sprang forward, fighting by his father’s side. Alpha and Magu. Drengrs.
The prince struck downward. Eldrick caught his blade under the belly of his axe. He tugged, dragging Riven closer. Vampyr fangs glinted in Eldrick’s line of sight. He tore his axe free, and as Riven stumbled back, he planted his boot onto his gaudy armor and thrust.
Aramis charged forward, slicing his sword across Riven’s belly. Iron rang against silver. Riven regained his footing. A frustrated roar erupted from him. He swung his enchanted sword. No finesse. No skill. No reason. Aramis matched blow for blow—
Black mists collected in Eldrick’s peripherals.
Ingrid lingered. Her crooked and gnarled hands appeared broken as she whirled magic at her side.
Winds snaked around Aramis and Eldrick’s ankles.
She hissed. Blood streamed over her lips and chin.
Sweet anise rose in the air. Stars above.
Eldrick sprang forward, knocking his father out of the way.
“Eldrick, no!” Aramis said.
It was too late. Ingrid released her magic.
An onyx sphere barreled into him. But unlike the attack at the gates, the witch’s power didn’t launch him back.
No. The tendrils bled into him like ink on parchment.
Wretched cold feasted on his magic, acid corroding his insides.
Eldrick crumpled to his knees, fighting the urge to wretch. He dug his hands into the soil.
Home.
The Vadon Mountains whispered on the true winds of this land. Get up!
His wolf answered the call of his homeland, and Eldrick shifted. Bones snapped. Muscles tore. Tendons stretched. His face pulled, and claws shot out of his morphing hands. The beastly magic running in his blood burned through Ingrid’s attack. On all fours, he howled to the heavens.
With canines bared, he prowled towards Riven, the intent to kill coursing through him. His land. His home. His pack.
The prince’s jade eyes widened. “I am a king!”
“You are nothing, Riven”—Tovi appeared on the wall, perched at the edge; a new blade glinted between her shoulders, secured on her back—“but a king of madness.”
The Queen of Drystan leapt.