Copyright © 2021 by Bec McMaster

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The Company Of Rogues

MASTER OF STORMS

BEC MCMASTER

CONTENTS

Master of Storms

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Promise of Darkness

Also by Bec McMaster

About the Author

Acknowledgments

“There once was a princess, her heart so fierce,

That true love’s arrow, should never pierce.

Her kiss, so cold. Her heart, so cruel,

That she made of this prince a terrible fool….”

—Opening stanza of Marduk the Fool

PROLOGUE

Then

Norway, 1870

“THE PRINCE IS HERE!”

Princess Solveig of the Sadu clan looked up as her youngest sister burst through the doors to her bedchamber, squealing in delight.

Aslaug jumped on the bed and fell in a flurry of pink skirts and golden hair. “I saw him arrive with his guards. He was so handsome. So ridiculously handsome. And when he smiled, I swear half the ladies of the court fainted!”

Solveig rolled her eyes. “They should have had something to eat before he arrived then.”

“You have no romance in your soul,” Aslaug accused.

“I eat cynicism for breakfast, along with the crushed hearts of vapid suitors.” Dreki princesses, she was learning, could be dramatic, and someone had to keep them in line.

“No arguing.” Siv spoke up. As the middle sister, she was frequently caught between the two of them. “Not today. Father said we had to be on our best behavior with this foreign court of dreki nobles. We need an alliance with the Zini court if we’re going to be able to withstand the Zilittu clan in the north.”

Dreki were mythical creatures born of Fire and Air. They were smaller than the larger, lumbering cousins they shared a shape with—dragons—and far more powerful, with the ability to shift into mortal form and walk among humans.

But if there was one thing Solveig had learned over the years, it was that Tiamat, the goddess who had gifted them with life, had also gifted them with the lion’s share of arrogance.

And the Zilittu clan were the proudest and most ambitious of all.

“The Zilittu die like any other dreki,” Solveig said. “If father gives me full command of the warband, then I could ensure there are no more problems from the north faster than one can say ‘who’s a pretty little princeling?’ We don’t need an alliance with the Zini.”

“Who cares about alliances? There is a prince here!” Aslaug’s voice grew hot with emotion. “And he is the most beautiful male I have ever seen.” She cuddled a cushion to her chest. “Prince Marduk. Marduk. Is that not the most amazing name you’ve ever heard?”

“It sounds like something the cat spat on the rug.”

Aslaug threw the pillow at her. “He was named after an ancient Sumerian god. It’s a powerful name.”

Solveig tried to work her way through the mess of braid she was creating in Siv’s red hair. “Are we related to her? I swear she looks like Mother, but this is embarrassing. The princesses of the Sadu clan don’t squeal over foreign-born princes, and especially not one who comes to eat all our food and drink our wine.”

Aslaug rolled onto her stomach in the mess of furs. “Well, ha. For once I know something you don’t know.”

“Do tell.” Was it over? Or under? Solveig held up a handful of Siv’s red-gold hair.

“Under,” Siv said with a sigh. “You don’t have to do this.”

Solveig’s hands paused. “I want to do this.”

It was a lie.

She was terrible at braiding hair, but this was something their mother had always done for the younger girls for important occasions, and while Solveig didn’t give a damn about making a good first impression, she knew it was important to both Aslaug and Siv.

And if someone had to fill their mother’s shoes, then it was most likely going to have to be her.

“Are either of you listening to me? The prince is here and I have important news!”

“I heard you.” I just don’t care. Dreki princes were all alike. Arrogant, puffed-shirt peacocks who thought she ought to be grateful they noticed her. “This Marduk will sign the treaty and we shall practice our prettiest smiles; Father will offer him wine and fine meats, and then hopefully, he’ll be winging out of here within the week and that’s the last we shall—"

“Yes, well….” Aslaug looked smug. “That’s the bit you didn’t know. Apparently, the prince is not merely here for the treaty. Father has promised him the hand of one of his daughters as a means of wedding both clans together. Prince Marduk is going to mate with one of us!”

Several threads of hair winnowed through her fingers as Solveig lost control of the entire braid she was mangling. Mating? “Father promised what?”

He couldn’t have.

He wouldn’t have.

“Oh, I knew that would capture your attention! Prince Marduk has been offered the choice of one of Father’s three daughters.” Shoving to her feet, Aslaug spun in a little circle. “I’m going to mate with a prince!”

A fair assumption, but ice slithered down Solveig’s spine. “You’re sure Father said ‘the hand of one of his daughters’?”

“Certain.”

There was no reason to believe it wouldn’t be Aslaug. Her sister was stunningly, heart-stoppingly beautiful. And kind. And regal. Usually.

The color drained out of Siv’s face. “What was he thinking?”

Aslaug’s joy faded. “I know you don’t want to mate with him. Either of you. So I am more than happy to make such a sacrifice—”

“Hardly a sacrifice for you,” Solveig spluttered, but as she paced, she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Why did Father not offer you directly? He knows you’d be more than willing.”

Just as he knew that both she and Siv would not be.

Siv had been there with her when their mother was killed. She’d stayed there on that mountain and protected the queen’s body from predators all night while Solveig fetched help, even though she’d been but twelve. The court whispered that her broken heart had never healed, but Solveig knew her kind, shy sister suffered from nightmares and terrors. She needed to feel safe.

And home was safe.

What was their father thinking?

Clearly, he was not, she seethed.

As for herself, if this prince thought she was going to kiss his boots like some prospective bride aflutter at the hope of stealing his heart, he could think again.

“Apparently, Prince Marduk can be… contrary,” Aslaug replied. “He has to be made to think such an arrangement is his choice. Lead him by the halter, so to speak.”

Contrary. There were other ways to describe such a male. “So he is against the mating.”

“He is not against the mating,” Aslaug corrected. “He merely wishes to meet us all. I’m fairly certain I can lure him somewhere private and encourage his attention to focus on me.”

Solveig lowered a steady look upon her youngest sister.

“Stop being a prude,” Aslaug snapped. “You don’t want him. Siv doesn’t want him. I do.”

“I’m not being a prude. But he is a foreign prince. We know nothing about him. You know nothing about him. He might be dangerous. He might be the sort to break a dozen hearts before breakfast. He might ply you with false words, enjoy your bounty, and then vanish into the winds as if he’d never been here. I don’t want to see your heart broken.”

“Well, I’m fairly certain he’ll take one look at you,” Aslaug said, “and realize that if he dared break my heart you’d make him regret it.”

“If he breaks your heart I will rip it from his chest and send it home to his clan in a box.”

Siv laid a restraining hand on her forearm. “No, you won’t, because that would start a war.”

“Fine. I won’t kill him. I’ll castrate him.”

Aslaug clapped a hand to her face. “This is why you’re unmated.”

“I am unmated because I have yet to meet a male I would consider my equal,” Solveig snapped. “And because my life does not revolve around a potential future mating.”

“Well, this is why both of us are unmated.” Aslaug’s voice rose. “I know you don’t want us to… to suffer the way Mother suffered. But this is all I’ve ever wanted, and every time a male dreki ventures to this court, he takes one look at you and decides courting me is not in his best interest.”

“I don’t do anything to them!”

“You don’t have to,” Aslaug said in exasperation. “Everyone at court can see the murder in your eyes.”

“I don’t see what the problem is? If he’s such a powerful male,” she said, “then he should be able to endure my withering stares. If he’s so enamored of you, then he would not hesitate to stand up to me. He would risk everything to steal your heart, and I won’t allow any male to court you who doesn’t deserve you. Don’t lower your standards just because he’s a pretty face. You deserve to be loved. Both of you. And I will not tolerate anything less.”

Aslaug threw her hands in the air. “At this point, I just want a chance to meet a male without you frightening him off. Can you do that? Can you not glower at Prince Marduk for all of a day? Smile, just once.”

Solveig ground her teeth together. This was utter fucking foolishness, and it was going to end badly for all involved.

But she managed to lift the corners of her mouth in a smile. “Like this?”

Aslaug winced. “Well, it’s a start. Are we agreed? The prince is mine. He just needs to be made aware of that fact.”

“Have at,” Siv offered. “I don’t want him.”

Solveig snorted when Aslaug turned that hard-eyed stare upon her. “I’m fairly certain he’s not going to look at me twice. And if he does, then I will disabuse him of any foolish notions. Firmly. He will not choose me. This, I promise.”

ONE MUST START as they meant to end, their father had once said, and Solveig smiled to herself as she strode toward the throne room where the prince awaited, because she was fairly certain her father did not mean this.

Aslaug and Siv had already made their appearances, and as the doors swung shut behind them, Solveig slammed both hands upon them and thrust them open.

They hit the walls of the throne room with a bang.

Several guards startled.

Her father’s head jerked toward her.

Aslaug shot a censorious look over her shoulder, where she stood clasping hands with some vapid blond.

And Solveig smiled as she rested her left hand on the hilt of her sword and strode toward the dais.

Clearly the prince was the one her sister was trying to manacle with both hands. All she could see was his back, but he was tall, broad of shoulder, and lean through the hips.

He was also wearing a red velvet coat like some storybook prince. If he turned around and there were golden tassels or epaulets on his shoulders, she was going to snort with laughter.

“Father,” she said in the sweetest voice she could possibly manage as she paused to kiss the king’s cheek—and completely ignore the foreign prince.

King Harald caught her arms reflexively, but there was a hint of humor in his gaze as he raked an eye over her attire. “Eldest daughter. I believe I said ‘a dress.’”

“It is a dress, is it not?”

She even gave a little twirl.

Voluminous black velvet skirts whirled around her ankles and then hugged her calves with a wicked little shiver when she drew to a halt. The bodice had been cut and molded to sculpt to her lean figure, a single slit of black lace hinting at cleavage, though the mess of antique gold necklaces hid anything she might have wished to show. A circlet made of twisted gold thorns sat nestled in her loose black hair, and the cape was made of black leather “feathers”, painstakingly pieced together to resemble Solveig’s dreki wings.

The entire ensemble said “evil queen in the making,” and Solveig adored it. Especially the slit down the center of the skirts that showed her leather leggings and the gorgeous boots that encased her calves.

“I should have expected no less.” Her father said, taking her hand and gesturing her toward the other end of the dais. “Prince Marduk, this is my eldest daughter, Solveig.”

There was gold frogging on the coat. Oh goddess, how was she going to hide her sneer?

She couldn’t help examining him from toe to chin, so it wasn’t until their gazes met that she realized there was a faintly amused look in his amber eyes.

And he was… gorgeous. Perhaps shockingly so, for even her breath caught a little before she took herself well in hand. He looked like trouble wrapped up in a fairy tale prince’s handsome charm—the kind of trouble that would bow politely to her father, wink at one of her sister’s, and then try to seduce her in the gardens.

No. Not seduce. Seduce was too polite a word. There was just enough edge in his wicked amber eyes to hint that he’d like to throw her over his shoulder and spank her ass instead, and—

There’d be none of that.

Marduk was young—perhaps of an age with her—and though they’d polished his boots and tamed that wild golden hair, there was something about the rakish way he wore it and the curve of his mouth that told her he was a devilish rogue.

And then he returned the insult with full, slow detail, pausing at her lean hips and then her lack-of-breasts before returning to her face.

Solveig’s cheeks heated. Definitely a skirt chaser. Despite her promise to Aslaug, she was going to make him grovel like a worm.

“Charmed,” Prince Marduk drawled. “I’m sure.”

“As am I,” Solveig purred. “I’m so ecstatic I can barely breathe.”

“Perhaps you should loosen your corset,” he murmured as he took her hand. “It might help… with the breathing.”

Her jaw dropped. Was he saying he thought her cold and stiff?

Or was that meant to be a suggestion?

Prince Marduk unleashed a smile upon her, and it felt as though the heavens finally opened after years of cloudy skies as he captured her free hand and lifted it to his lips, their eyes meeting.

Solveig’s feet ground to a halt the second he laid his lips upon her.

Her heart stopped dead in her chest.

And her dreki suddenly screamed within her, unfurling tight wings within the cage of her ribs and fighting to break free.

“Are you all right?” Siv whispered on a thought-thread, mind-to-mind, because she alone among others, always noticed the little things.

Solveig slammed a fist to her chest, fighting to contain the rage and fear. It was breathtaking. Blinding. She was left pinwheeling through stormy skies the way she had been when her mother had died right in front of her.

“Solveig?” This time, Siv sounded worried, but she merely slid her fingers through Solveig’s other hand so as not to be noticed, lacing them tightly together.

She would not be defeated by this foreign prince.

She would not be undone by a single smile.

She could control the dreki inside her. And whatever had set it off, she would deal with it later.

“I’m fine,” she sent back, then turned to the prince. “Are you quite… done?”

He glanced up at her, his lips still caressing her knuckles, and their eyes met.

It was as if he stole the breath from her lungs. She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. The world around them vanished. There was only Marduk with that knowing smile as he straightened, and the soft brush of his lips doing dangerous things to her skin.

Another lance of fury went through her, almost twisting her inside out. The dreki hissed, wanting to stab at him with its claws, wanting to hurl itself at him, to pin him down, to kiss that arrogant mouth, to kill him.

“Don’t touch me,” she hissed as she tore her hand from his, her skin prickling as if she’d dipped it in pure lava. Curling her fist to her heart, she fought to see through the fury. Goddess, what was happening to her?

“Solveig?” Her father called.

Solveig had never wanted to kill someone so much in her entire life.

“I am fine,” she snarled, turning on her heel and stalking toward the throne room doors. “I have done my bit for this farce. I need air.”

And a chance to breathe.

Because she’d promised Aslaug she wouldn’t kill him, and Solveig always kept her promises.

“WELL, that went as well as expected,” Niels murmured the second Marduk was shown to his rooms.

Marduk barely noticed the doors shutting. Everything within the throne room had turned to a muted murmur of apologies and hushed voices the second the princess stormed from the chambers.

He slung the velvet cloak from his shoulders. Niels had chosen it for him, intending to present him as some pretty princeling from a foreign court for some reason. It wasn’t until he’d walked inside the throne room and come face-to-face with the three daughters of King Harald the Shrewd that he’d begun to realize exactly why he was dressed like a peacock.

This entire affair was a trap, and he’d walked into it blithely, with his eyes closed.

“You’re needed for the signing of a treaty,” he said, pitching his voice high enough to mimic his mother’s. “Just smile and shake hands, Marduk. Sign with a flourish. Charm our new allies.” He shot Niels a sharp look as he dropped the falsetto. “It’s strange, Niels, but I could have sworn there was a gleam in Harald’s eye when he introduced his daughters. All three of them. He practically gift wrapped them too. What’s going on?”

The dreki ambassador picked up his cloak and began to fold it. “The Zini clan is forging an alliance with the Sadu.”

“How?” His voice became steel. “Precisely how are we forging an alliance?”

Niels arched a cool brow. “Your mother assured us you would be key to securing this treaty—”

“I knew it.” He curled his right hand into a fist. “No. I will not mate with a female I’ve only just met! I never agreed to this. My mother presumes too much.”

The seneschal gave a little smile.

Marduk chased after it. “What? What was all that about? Did you not hear me? I said I won’t do it.”

“You didn’t ask which one it was.”

He’d been expecting protestations of “but the treaty” or “serve your clan.” He’d been prepared for such arguments too.

Except this one caught him at an odd angle.

It was bait.

Bait dressed in a fine gown, with a head full of braids and a smile of white, perfect teeth. Or more to the point…. Bait dressed in slick leather with a cloak of raven feathers, and a golden circlet resting on its brow.

And he couldn’t resist taking it. “Which one?”

Niels tucked the folded cloak within his traveling chest. “I believe… you’ll have to figure that out for yourself. It’s to be your choice, though your mother has a preference.”

“You crafty old bastard.” The seneschal had served at his father’s side for years. He knew Marduk’s nature almost as well as the prince himself. “Fine. I will work it out. But the answer’s still no.”

“We shall see,” Niels mused as Marduk paced to the windows.

He twitched the curtains aside, and there she was, staring down from distant battlements with her raven-black hair streaming behind her, and her plain, ringless hands resting on the stone as she glared into the winds.

What a curious creature.

Not even half as pretty as her sisters, nor as sweet, but she’d still somehow managed to drive the breath from Marduk’s lungs the second he’d kissed her hand. For a moment he’d heard the wind howling through foreign chasms, begging him to join it. The dreki within him had wanted to spread its wings and chase after her, knowing that she was the wind and it danced to her tune.

Such an unusual feeling.

Because the second he’d frozen there, looking up at her with his lips still pressed to her skin, she’d torn her hand from his, her expression glacial.

“Not that one,” Niels murmured, tugging the curtain closed. “That one is bidding to become Harald’s war marshal. Powerful. Fierce. Uncontrollable. Your mother wishes you to make an alliance. Not war.”

The blonde then.

Or the redhead.

Marduk rubbed at his knuckles, glancing back toward the window. “Why would you say mating such a female would be war?”

“Because, my prince, they call her the Storm with Teeth, and I daresay from her warm welcome this afternoon, she is hardly inclined to submit to your proposal. Choose one of the others. They’re pretty girls. Biddable. Kind.”

Biddable. Kind. He couldn’t think of two more unappealing words. So that was to be the play. Here, Marduk…. Here are two beautiful princesses. It will be your choice.

As if it was any sort of choice at all.

“I will… meet with them,” he replied, though he had no intention of taking either of them as his mate. “Harald cannot demand anything more than that, can he?”

How badly could this go?

1

Now, Iceland

TWO GOLDEN DREKI princes alighted on the ledge of Hekla's volcano, oblivious to the assassin that waited below. A golden shimmer surrounded both gilded dreki and then magic blurred, leaving them standing there in their mortal forms.

Perfect.

Just perfect, Solveig thought, as she nocked her arrow to her bow.

A dreki was difficult to kill, but in mortal form they were far more vulnerable. A single arrow might slay one, if it struck its target accurately.

And when it came to revenge, she was nothing if not accurate.

The king of Iceland's Zini clan, Rurik, hauled on a pair of trousers he took from his travel bag, throwing his golden head back as he straightened.

But it was to the other prince her attention turned.

Marduk.

The lying, honorless dreki prince who'd accepted her father's offer of an alliance—with her hand as the prize to seal the treaty—and then fled the night of their mating.

Solveig looked along the line of her arrow.

Its point locked upon her feckless mate's heart as she drew the bow.

And...

She suffered a moment of doubt.

"I will return with Marduk's heart—or not at all," she'd pledged in her father's hall, and the great goddess Tiamat had heard her oath.

If she didn't bring his heart—preferably in a box—back to her father's court within the year, then she could never return.

Marduk turned, his dangerous amber eyes drifting in her direction as if he sensed danger.

The hard line of his jaw tightened, but it was the quirk of his brow that caught her attention. That hateful, smug, mocking smile that curled over his full mouth.

The mouth that had once kissed her until she was crying out with pleasure.

Those hands that had pinned her to the floor.

All of them belonged to the prince who'd spurned her and made her the laughingstock of her father's court.

Not just once, but twice now.

Suddenly all her doubts evaporated.

Burning with rage, Solveig loosed the arrow.

It arched toward him, glinting in the sunlight. Cascades of dwarven magic streamed from it, magic that could pierce any dreki psychic shield.

And Marduk caught it, his fist closing around the arrow shaft at the last second before his furious gaze jerked in her direction.

Ragnarök's fires.

Solveig reached for a second arrow, but it was too late, for the king turned too.

And while she was formidable enough to take on her scoundrel mate, she was no match for two powerful dreki warriors.

Instead, she fled.

There would be another day.

And another arrow with his name on it.

She was going to kill that lying, sweet-tongued bastard. And she was going to enjoy it.

THE ARROW CAME out of nowhere.

Marduk snatched it out of the air, alerted by its hiss. The point almost grazed his chest. The dreki inside him roared in fury, but then the scent of his assailant caught his attention.

"Assassin!" Rurik snarled, shoving past him, but Marduk caught his older brother's forearm.

He lifted the arrow to his nose and inhaled.

She smelled like summer storms and turbulent, rushing rivers. He’d never forget that scent. He’d recognize it anywhere. And as he lowered the arrow and raked his gaze over the shale-covered hillside, he couldn’t stop the dreki inside him from flaring its wings in excitement.

Solveig.

Princess. Warrior. Mate.

Would-be assassin.

Life had just become interesting again.

“What are you doing?” Rurik demanded.

"Relax. I know exactly who it is." He tossed the arrow in the air and caught it. The question was: What was he going to do about it?

Catch her, rasped his dreki.

If he closed his eyes, he could almost picture what it wanted him to do to her.

He could drop from the skies like a furious bolt of lightning and pin her to the ground. A second to shift back into mortal shape and then she’d be under him, wriggling and furious. A knife in her hand, no doubt, but he’d taken her weapons off her before.

You could kiss her again.

Aye. And she’d rip his throat out if he tried.

The day of their official mating had caught them both by surprise. The second the doors to her chamber closed behind him, she’d turned on him with fury for choosing her as his mate. He’d argued back—she was the one who’d dragged him back to her court in chains, forcing him to fulfill his past obligations—and one thing had led to another.

He’d kissed her.

She’d kissed him back.

And if Haakon, Tormund, and Bryn hadn’t burst into the chambers to rescue him, he’d have probably done a hell of a lot more to her.

He could still taste the furious caress of her mouth, and even though it had been months since he’d escaped her court—and their mating—she haunted him each and every night.

“Who is it?” Rurik demanded.

“Princess Solveig of the Sadu clan.”

“That's Solveig?"

“The one and only. Thank the goddess.”

Rurik frowned. “But why…? A direct attack like this means war. Surely Harald would not forsake our alliance? He’s never broken his word before. We need to capture her and discover what she’s doing in my territory—"

"No, no." Panic burst through him. He may not have fully explained the details to his brother. “I shall hunt her down and deal with it.”

That hint of scent wafted from the arrow again.

It stole through him like the kiss of the stormy wind off the Arctic. No delicate floral scent here. No pretty perfumes or scented oils.

But female in all the ways that mattered.

A scent both fierce and toe-curling, smoky in its allure.

A scent he'd breathed in once and could never escape. It had drifted within his lungs like a slow-acting poison, twining around his soul over the past three months. It stole into his dreams at night and left him hard and aching. It woke him sweating and spent, her name on his lips.

Solveig.

"No," Marduk repeated softly, as he watched the dark shape slip down the mountain like a wraith. "This has nothing to do with you—or her father."

A shiver of delight speared through him. He'd felt trapped this past month, bound by his familial vows to help his brother reform the Zini court.

But watching Solveig flee from him sent a thrill of excitement through him.

"You're not going alone. She tried to kill us," Rurik said.

He tossed his brother the arrow. "I'm fairly certain you were safe."

"Marduk."

He paused on the edge of the ledge and looked back, a wolfish grin on his face. "Trust me, brother. It was definitely me she was aiming for."

He couldn't entirely blame her.

His older brother had always been ruthless and cunning, and Marduk could see hints of it stealing over Rurik’s face. "Any particular reason why?"

“I may have left the lady before the mating vows were completed. She took offense to it.”

“May have? Why am I only hearing of this now? Her father, King Harald, is our only ally. You were supposed to bind them to our cause. If she kills you—"

"She won't kill me." Though his balls might be at risk.

Rurik pointedly gestured to the arrow. "This stinks of dwarven magic. It was made to pierce any spellcraft either of us could create. It was aimed at your heart."

"If she truly wanted me dead, I would never have sensed her coming. Solveig is a shadow in the night when she wants to be. Relax, brother. I know what this means. This was a warning. She wants my attention. She wants me to know she’s coming for me."

“That doesn’t make me feel any easier about this situation!”

“She won’t kill me.” He was certain of that, if nothing else. “She wants me to suffer, and death is too kind.”

“Marduk,” Rurik growled.

"Besides...." He spread his arms, prepared to launch himself into the skies in order to chase her. "You were the one who insisted I mate with her. If you hurt her, then you'll destroy your newly minted alliance with King Harald, and I know how important such an alliance is."

“Not more important than my brother.”

Marduk hesitated. Once upon a time, they were words he’d hungered to hear.

But time had changed a great many things.

He was no longer the young dreki prince who’d been left alone in their mother’s court as a boy, desperate for answers. He’d survived her hellish reign, and he’d done it without Rurik. He’d escaped and managed to forge new armor for himself. A smile to deflect a threat, and charming words to wrap an enemy in confusion.

“Relax, brother,” he drawled, turning his gaze back to the fleeing princess. “I just want to talk to her.”

A conversation between them was long overdue.

Marduk forced the rush of the shift through his body, his arms lengthening into wings and his heart pounding with fierce glee.

Run, sweetheart. There's nothing I like better than a chase.

2

The floorboard creaked.

Just a faint shifting of timber beneath someone’s weight, but it definitely spoke of an intruder.

Solveig’s eyes shot open in the darkened room.

Who would dare enter her chambers?

The innkeeper and his wife had promised her sanctuary for the night, and she’d already proved to the drunks in the tavern that they’d be best not to trespass further. After an entire day spent laying false trails and avoiding a certain golden-haired prince, she needed rest.

Silence settled in her room behind her. Solveig eased out a breath, trying to sound as though she was still relaxed in slumber. Nothing moved. Not even a mouse. A hint of doubt crept through her.

Had she been dreaming?

Another faint creak.

Sleep sloughed off her as she realized there was definitely someone in her rooms. Why they hell hadn’t her wards awoken her? They should have been screaming at her the second an intruder touched either the door or the window.

She slid her hand under her pillow, pretending she was merely stirring in her sleep as her hand closed around the hilt of the knife she kept under there.

The intruder froze.

Each tick of her heart left her breathless as she tried to listen. She didn’t dare shift again. No, she wanted him close enough to kill.

There.

The shifting of floorboards as someone eased their weight forward.

Her nostrils flared.

A dreki male. One primed for battle, judging by his racing heart. Hints of smoke and burned cinnamon….

She knew that scent.

Solveig burst upward just as a hand stole over her mouth.

"Did you miss me, sweetheart?" said a mocking voice in her ear as Marduk hauled her back into the cage of his arms.

IF LOOKS COULD SLAY, then Marduk would be twitching on the floor.

Solveig glared around the gag as she strained against the magical rope he’d used to tie her to the chair. Marduk hauled a second chair closer, slinging it backward and straddling it as he faced her. His back was a mess of claw marks, and she’d bitten his shoulder, but he’d finally managed to subdue her.

Barely.

If he hadn’t caught her by surprise, then he had little doubt he’d be the one with a knife to his throat right now. Instead, it had missed his thigh by half an inch. And now she was tied to a chair wearing little more than a shirt, though he’d caught a glimpse of white drawers beneath them.

He’d have expected an iron chastity belt.

But there was something utterly tempting about the crisp white linen. No ribbons. No bows. Not a single thing to draw his attention except for the concept of what removing them would feel like.

With his teeth….

And there you fucking go again, he growled to himself.

No. Hell no.

Many, many times no?

But it felt as though his cock was paying absolutely no attention to him.

They stared at each other, and despite the mixed emotions surging through him, he couldn’t deny that he felt more awake than he’d felt in months. He’d… missed this. Missed the heated flame in Solveig’s dark eyes and the scent of a storm brewing on the horizon that always clung to her.

Even missed the battle between them, for his body could still feel the ghostly whisper of her skin against his as he pinned her to the bed. It was a battle of will to force his cock from engaging at the merest memory of it.

Why her?

Why was it always her?

Why—out of all the women he’d kissed—was she the one who made him feel so alive?

“Are you ready to talk?”

Solveig arched a cutting brow.

He tugged the gag out of her mouth—and nearly lost two fingers.

“Ah, ah, ah, sweetheart.” He yanked his hand out of the way of her clashing teeth. “I just want to talk.”

“Curious way to go about it…. Sneaking into my rooms and tying me up. One would think you had other plans.”

For fuck’s sake. His cock roused. “If I had other plans, I might tie you up. But I wouldn’t use a rope. Or a chair. I’d use silk and I’d have you on the bed. Consider this a precaution. Not a courting ritual. You did try to kill me.”

“I missed.”

“Oh no, your aim was perfect.” He rubbed a hand over his heart. “You’re lucky I sensed it coming.”

“How?” Her dark eyes fired to hot coals as she leaned forward. “I made no sound. I’d been watching you for days and you never saw me. The magic on that arrow should have made it undetectable to your senses.”

A troubling thought. “Perhaps I should be more specific. I didn’t sense the arrow. But there was something in the air. My inner dreki rousing. Trouble, it was warning me.”

Though it had not roused to battle, merely… intensity.

He’d not considered the thought until now.

Somehow his dreki had known she was there.

Somehow it had sensed her, even though she’d been downwind and hidden on the shale-covered mountainside.

“How did you get in here?” she demanded. “How did you get through my wards?”

“I didn’t feel a single thing.”

She nearly kicked him in the balls—an enviable achievement considering there were slats in the back of the chair.

He skidded back, catching her bare foot against his thigh. The sensation of it derailed him. He’d been trying not to focus on what she was wearing—or more particularly, what she wasn’t wearing—but the idea of Solveig tucking her bare feet up under her blanket was strangely adorable.

He’d only ever seen her in boots with heels a good three inches high.

All the better to crush you beneath them, she’d once taunted.

“My wards are impenetrable,” she said, and curse the gods but she was so glorious when her temper was roused. “I should have felt your presence the second you set foot inside this inn.”

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He couldn’t resist stroking the arch of her foot. “Perhaps you forgot to set them.”

“Get your hands off me.”

“What’s wrong?” Another mocking caress, this time digging his thumbs in a little harder. “You liked it last time.”

Murder.

She was trying to visually murder him.

“Why are you here? What do you want?” he demanded.

Her eyes narrowed to thin slits. “Haven’t you realized yet, my love? I want your heart. In a box.”

“Then we have a problem, for I find I’m quite partial to it where it is. Go back home. Forget this foolish vendetta. I’ll pretend you never existed, and you can excise me from your life however you wish.”

“Vendetta? You think this a mere vendetta?”

He danced his fingers underneath the pads of her toes. “What else would I think it? An infatuation?”

Outrage exploded over her features, but to his delight, she also squirmed.

Ticklish. She was fucking ticklish.

And so he did it again, just to annoy her.

“Infatuation?” She yanked at her foot. “Get your hands off me!”

He let her go and held his hands up. “As my lady commands, though I will note that you put your foot in my lap.”

She glared at him, and despite the fact she was tied to the chair, she somehow exuded menace. “I will kill you, Marduk. I will never stop coming for you. It doesn’t matter what you do. It doesn’t matter how thick your dungeon walls may be, or how long you lock me away for, I will keep coming until I finally have what I want.”

Marduk slowly crossed his arms over his chest. “Dungeon? What kind of male do you think I am?”

Her arched eyebrow answered that question with exquisite explicitness.

“I’m not going to lock you away,” he said slowly. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanted to talk.”

“So you’re going to simply set me free?” The devil had a smile like that.

His eyes narrowed. “Maybe I’ll fly you home and dump you on your father’s doorstep, all tied up. I’ll even put a pretty bow in your hair.”

It was as though he’d set a match to the tinder of her fury. “Don’t you dare.”

“If I could trust you to behave, then I wouldn’t have to.” Pushing to his feet, he started pacing. No matter how much he wanted to stay and play with her, this was the worst time to deal with a scorned female. “You’ve become a problem. I was content to allow us to part on ill terms—”

“A problem?”

“Yes,” he growled. “A problem. I have important issues to deal with in regards to my court and my family. I can’t afford to be watching over my shoulder for you at every second.”

“You should have thought about that before you crossed me.”

“I never sought you out. I never intended for any of this to happen—"

“You mated with me. You chose me, and then you fled the second you could get a chance, with your tail tucked between your—”

“I didn’t have a choice! Your father insisted I choose between his daughters—”

“I have two sisters!”

“And you’d have preferred that I break Aslaug’s heart? She was half in love with me already. I couldn’t choose her. You were the one who warned me years ago not to break her heart. Siv could barely look me in the eye—"

“So you chose to ruin my life instead?”

Marduk drew back. She’d rarely raised her voice to him. No, Solveig was an icy chill creeping through a room; a stealthy frost that could freeze the life in your veins before you even knew it was happening.

But this….

His temper roused, and he leaned forward, grabbing the arms of the chair she was bound to. “You speak of me ruining your life? Then perhaps you should have some damned accountability for your own actions in what happened. I had no intention of returning to your court. I had no intention of ever seeing you again. Ten years ago, you told me to fly away, curl up in a cave, and die. And so I flew away without ever looking back. But you were the one who brought me back to your court—in chains, might I add—and you were the one who backed me into a position where I had to make a choice. And now, here you are again, forcing your way back into my life. So yes, I could have chosen Aslaug. Yes, I could have chosen Siv. But if you want the truth, Solveig, you were always going to be my choice. Because this isn’t finished between us. This is never going to be finished between us.”

“I brought you back in chains because I meant to kill you,” she hissed, and he tasted the sweetness of her breath.

Marduk’s chest heaved. They could go on like this all night if he allowed it, but he reined his dreki in tightly, swallowing hard. “Then why didn’t you?”

“What?”

“You had me on my knees in the middle of a cell. You had your knife at my throat. You were going to do it. You wanted to do it. You had every opportunity in the world to kill me, and yet you hesitated.”

As she did now.

Thought danced through her eyes, and then she shook her head. “I wanted to make you suffer first.”

Really? He captured her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “You don’t truly want me dead, do you?”

Solveig’s eyes narrowed to thin slits, but he pressed his finger to her lips.

And gods, it felt so good to get his hands on her.

“If you wanted me dead—truly wanted me dead—then I would be buried in a grave on some mountainside somewhere. But you brought me back in chains. You wanted to gloat. You wanted…. Hell, I don’t what you wanted from me. Did you want to punish me? Did you want to humiliate me, as I once mistakenly humiliated you—?”

“Mistakenly?”

All the old words came into his head—the same arguments they’d been having for years. I was drunk. I didn’t know what I was saying. It was a stupid little poem that ran off my tongue after an entire day of drinking—

But he stared at her, and he knew that none of the old arguments meant anything.

Ten years ago he had insulted her, and everyone at her court knew of it.

“I’m sorry,” he said instead.

Solveig drew back as if slapped. “What?”

“All these years and I’ve never said that to you. And I am. I’m sorry I hurt you—”

“Don’t you dare.” She tugged at her ropes.

“What’s wrong? Does it ruin your little revenge scheme?” Marduk scrubbed his hands over his face. “I’m tired of fighting with you.”

“You’re lying.”

The edge of his temper roused. “If there’s one thing I don’t do, it’s lie. You want the truth? The full truth? Then here it is: I didn’t know why my mother had sent me to your court until it was too late. Your father offered one of his daughters to me, and it was a complicated situation to extricate myself from without causing a political storm. I didn’t want to be mated to anyone. I didn’t intend to choose any of you. But I didn’t wish to offend your father, and the longer I waited, the tighter the noose around my neck became. I should have ended it before it began.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

He didn’t quite have the words.

None of it made any sense. He’d lingered at the Sadu court for weeks, playing Harald’s game and trying to avoid promising anything that might tie him to one of Harald’s daughters.

He should have put his foot down the day he realized what game was afoot.

He should have been honest from the start.

Except he’d taken one look at Solveig, and she’d wrapped smoky tendrils around him, leaving him questioning everything in his life.

“It was a bad time in my life…. And my pride was hurt,” he admitted. “I nursed my wound with ale and let my bitterness brew within me. I said something stupid in front of too many dreki warriors. And when all was said and done, instead of doing the right thing and apologizing to you in front of your court, I was already gone. But I didn’t flee your court because of you.” He let out a shaky breath. “My mother sent me to your father’s court to remove me from her own. My brother, Rurik, had been exiled years ago, and I’d only just come of age. I knew there were rumblings within the court that she should step aside from her regency and allow me to rule. I knew her heart. My mother would never allow me to set foot on that throne, but it wasn’t until your father greeted me with news of my forthcoming marriage to one of his daughters that I realized she had plotted to remove me in a way that would keep the dreki within my clan from revolting.”

He raked his hands through his hair, clasping his palms behind his head. “I wasn’t ready to be mated, and I was resentful. I was too young and too stupid to see it for the chance it could have been. I just wanted to escape. And although you tempted me—”

“Tempted you?”

“Yes.” Was she truly so blind? “You were ice and fury, and I wanted you in my bed the second I saw you. And I even thought about it—about choosing you. About mating with you and living within your father’s court.” He shook his head. “But you made it very clear that you thought the concept beneath you. You despised me from the start, and so, when I saw my chance, I slipped away from your father’s court. I vanished into the wind, because it was the only way I could see to escape my mother’s noose. I didn’t think of the damage my words might have caused you. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I was so careless and stupid. I embarrassed you. And I wish I could take it all back. I wish I could return to that night and shut my fucking mouth before I sang that song.”

Solveig leaned back in her chair, her expression frozen.

Say something. Marduk’s tongue felt thick in his mouth. “You have nothing to say to that?”

But she tilted her head, and then she was looking down.

At the floor.

“Something just tripped my wards.”

It occurred to him that he was dealing with a powerful, cunning, devious female dreki who had never shied away from a battle in her life.

“If this is some sort of means to escape—”

“It’s not.” She strained against her ropes. “Untie me! Some sort of warning is itching across my skin.”

Of all the rotten timing….

He growled under his breath as he crossed to the door. “I thought your wards weren’t working?”

“I don’t know why they didn’t recognize your presence. They should have—but they’re—” She gasped. “—screaming at me right now. Untie me!”

“Do you think I’m a fool? The second I untie you, you’ll put that knife through my throat.”

“If you think I’ll aim for anywhere as benign as your throat, then you should think again.”

He winced. “One day my balls are going to take exception to the way you’ve so poorly treated them.”

But a commotion caught his attention. Marduk pressed his ear to the door, the hackles down his spine rising. He looked down at the hairs on his arms.

What was this?

Every inch of his skin wanted to crawl off his body.

Magic. Someone was using magic nearby, and it wasn’t dreki magic.

“Can you feel that?”

Solveig rolled her eyes. “I’ve been trying to tell you about it for nearly a minute—"

He sprinted across the room and clapped a hand over her mouth. Solveig dug her teeth into his palm, and he hissed under his breath, cupping the back of her skull.

“Not now,” he whispered. “You’re right. I feel like someone just dipped me in slime, and my magic’s never reacted like this before.”

Those dark eyes considered him.

And then she nodded and stopped biting him.

“If I let you go, will you promise not to attack me?”

The arch of her brow held shades of condescension.

“Until morning,” he amended. “Or until we’ve discovered what just entered this building.”

“I promise I won’t kill you until morning breaks,” Solveig purred.

And a dreki couldn’t lie.

Marduk took his knife from his hip sheath and sliced through her ropes. They fell to the floor in a slithery rasp, and Solveig stood, rubbing at her wrists. He tossed her the pair of leather leggings that she must have kicked off before she slipped beneath her blankets.

Her fist balled, but he caught it, leaning close enough to whisper in her ear. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the precise implications of your statement. Later. You can hit me later. Right now, I’m the only ally you have.”

3

Marduk slipped down the stairs ahead of Solveig, his broad shoulders blocking the light. For such a large male, he moved with a silent grace that surprised her.

Must have been all the bedrooms he’d stolen out of over the years.

Solveig followed him like a wraith on the prowl. She couldn’t sense whatever was making his skin crawl, but the way the intruder had tripped her alarms made her wary enough to work with him.

For tonight.

Tomorrow…. She was going to work her way through the implications of his apology tomorrow.

“Where is the dreki?” someone crooned, and the sound of that voice lilting up the stairwell made her skin tingle. “We know he came in here. We saw him enter. We just want to know where he is.”

“D-dreki?” The innkeeper stammered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We are good, honest Christian folk in here and—”

A scream echoed.

Solveig caught Marduk’s wrist, and he flashed her a heated look over his shoulder.

“Someone you know?” she mouthed.

He shook his head.

“How many?”

Marduk flashed a white smile. His shrug said it didn’t matter, and then he was tearing his wrist free of her grip and jogging down the stairs as if he had not a care in the world.

Cursed male dreki didn’t know the benefits of subterfuge. There was some sort of innate battle within them that dictated that slipping out the back window until they could discover just what they were facing was impossible. They were all rage and full-frontal assault, alpha males who waded into uneven odds as if the concept they might be the prey here was simply unthinkable.

“I swear…,” she whispered under her breath as she drew the knife he’d returned to her.

And then she followed him, because someone had to save his neck.

Nobody was going to steal her kill.

“Now, what were you saying?” the stranger laughed. “Something about… he went upstairs and he’s—”

“He’s standing right here,” Marduk called, as he sauntered with all the arrogance he could muster into the common room of the inn. “Who are you? And what do you want?”

Solveig slipped into the room behind him, lingering in the shadows.

Half a dozen men all turned to look at Marduk, clad in an unusual sort of golden armor. They were all pale-eyed and sulky-mouthed, with long, shining silken hair, like a group of troubadours who just needed lutes to start strumming, even as they expected ladies to toss handkerchiefs at their feet.

But there was something wrong about them.

Something that made her inner dreki flex its claws quietly within her.

Solveig froze, her weight shifting forward into the toe of her boot. Her dreki never shied away from battle. And while it might have urged caution until she’d taken in the room, it had never felt uneasy like this before.

“What do I want?” The crowd of gorgeous, blond-haired men parted and a newcomer—clearly the leader—stepped forward. “I want you to kiss my boots, you dreki filth. Kneel.”

Marduk’s knees folded, and he hit the floor, his eyes bulging in his shocked face.

“What are you doing?” Solveig’s weight shifted forward, but everything inside her was telling her to run. “Get up.”

“I. Can’t.” Marduk strained to move.

“Get to your feet,” she insisted, grabbing his arm and hauling him up. “And fight.”

“It’s not that… easy….” Each word came through strained teeth, and she felt Marduk’s fist curl in her shirt as he half made his feet.

“Stay,” the newcomer commanded, and even she felt the weight of those words. “Both of you.”

The most gorgeous man she’d ever seen turned his entire focus upon her, and Solveig froze as though a fist had slammed into her midriff. She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.

All she could do was feel the vast noose of overwhelming love flooding through her. This man…. This amazing, stunning man was looking at her, and she wanted to go to her knees—

What the hell?

“Aren’t you beautiful,” said the creature, and the words screamed through her ears. “Aren’t you magnificent?” He smiled, and the sun rose and set in that smile, and her heart began to pound even as her dreki shrieked within her chest. “Come here, my love. Come here and let me see you.”

Solveig nearly screamed as she fought the lure of that call.

But it was Marduk who stepped forward, moving as if he was ensorcelled. Marduk who went toward the creature with a smile on his face and blank, bland eyes.

Of course he did, the idiot.

And the stranger’s smile deepened as his hand went to the hilt of his knife, one hand reaching for Marduk—

“These children have forgotten the old ways,” the creature said, and another one of them laughed in the background.

More of them. Five in all.

But she couldn’t escape, couldn’t make herself move, couldn’t even look beyond him.

“Marduk,” she managed to grate out.

The stranger smiled at her as if he found this oh-so-hilarious, and he drew Marduk into his arms, grabbing the dreki prince by the chin and spinning him until Marduk leant back into his embrace, barely cognizant of the knife the creature held to his throat.

“Is this one yours?”

A thin line of red slid down Marduk’s throat, but he didn’t fight. The stranger kissed the blood away, but he didn’t drop his gaze from hers. “Oh, look at you fight it. I’m going to enjoy cutting the heart out of his chest—"

“His heart is mine,” she managed to hiss, but still her feet carried her forward.

“Maybe I’ll make you eat it.”

Her dreki went mad.

Its wings were pushing at her skin, its claws tearing at her from the inside. Solveig found herself screaming, but with the scream came some sort of clarity. The fog that bound her will in chains slipped from her mind, and she focused on the knife in the creature’s hand.

“Come to me, you pathetic wyrm,” the stranger demanded, his voice shivering through her and wrapping its tendrils around her heart. “Crawl toward me and kiss my boots…. Beg for mercy. Beg for pain. Beg for my knife. Crawl, you bitch.”

Solveig felt her feet drag her across the floor toward certain death, and she couldn’t stop her lips from curling in a smile.

Please. Please love me. Please hold me. Please end this misery.

But just as the stranger beckoned her toward him, Solveig could smell the blood.

And somehow it broke the spell. Somehow, she could move her eyes, see the blood pooling in the hollow of Marduk’s collarbone.

It wasn’t right. It wasn’t right, and everything inside her was being torn in two.

Crawl to me. Crawl to me. Crawl.

But she was Solveig the Fierce and she’d never crawled for anyone in her life.

“If anyone is going to… cut his heart out of his chest,” she screamed, “it’s going to be… me.”

Solveig stopped fighting the call.

Her feet carried her forward, and suddenly she was almost lunging toward him. Solveig’s fingers curled into a fist and then her knuckles were lashing toward that bastard’s nose, and she drove every inch of her weight and fury through the blow.

Blood spurted and the stranger’s head snapped back.

Metal shifted as five other sets of hands dropped to their swords, but she couldn’t worry about the others. Instead, she hooked her left fist around and drove it into the creature’s jaw. The knife slipped free from Marduk’s throat, and Solveig kicked Marduk in the chest, which slammed the pair of them back into the wall.

Marduk blinked as if he was coming awake from a thousand-year sleep. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, she spun him toward the bar of the inn.

“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.” She slapped him across the face.

Hard.

And damn her if it didn’t feel good.

“You bitch.” The stranger hauled himself upright, wiping blood from his mouth. His eyes glinted murder, but whatever she’d done, she’d managed to break his hold over her. “I’ll have you on your knees—”

Solveig grabbed the nearest barstool and whipped it across his face. Timber shattered over his shoulders, and the slicing edge of his voice died a short death.

Steel crashed behind her. A hard body staggered into her. Marduk gave a grunt.

“Get off me!” she yelled.

“I’m trying to,” he said, and then he was lunging away from her, steel flashing in his hands as he stabbed one of the creatures through the eye. It went down with a scream, kicking and scrabbling on the floor as steam hissed from its wound.

Steel.

Iron.

Her gaze met Marduk’s, and she saw her own fears echoed in his eyes.

The alfar.

This wasn’t possible.

Solveig kicked another stool up into her hand and then tossed it at a pair of warriors who ran at her. Yanking Marduk’s knife from the warrior’s eye, she threw it at the stranger who’d sought to charm her with his voice.

He slapped it aside with the strange blade he wielded, and that was when Solveig knew they were outmanned and outmatched.

She couldn’t allow him to speak again.

Not when her ears were already blistered and she could still hear “crawl, crawl, crawl” echoing through her veins.

Clearly Marduk had the same idea. “This way!” he yelled, grabbing her arm and wrenching her toward the nearest window.

“Now you want to run?” Incredible.

The pair of them leapt through the window, spraying glass all across the cobbles below. She hit the ground with a grunt, tumbling forward into a roll before Marduk hauled her to her feet.

“ELVES,” Solveig hissed, pacing in front of the fire she’d made and scratching at her arms. Every hair on her body remained on end. “What in the name of Tiamat are they doing here?”

Thousands of years ago, the dreki and the elves had fought a monstrous war, and although the dreki won the right to rule this world, exiling the elves back to their home world, the threat always remained that they might return.

Marduk shivered as he stared into the flames. They’d stolen a shirt and a pair of trousers off some poor washerwoman’s line, and he’d taken the trousers, courteously giving her his back while she buttoned herself into the itchy shirt. “’They came through the gates, laughing so brightly it pierced the ears; armed with voice and face and the desire to please….’ I’ve never understood that line of the saga until now.”

It was an uncomfortable moment to realize she agreed with him.

The night seemed to press in around them.

They’d taken to the skies and found a secluded glen to camp in for the night, but who knew whether the elves could even track them?

It was like discovering a long-lost myth had come to life—and it was armed to the hilt.

“How did they even get here? The gates to Álfheimr should have been locked,” she said.

It was how those long-ago dreki had defeated the elvish forces.

Hundreds of dreki Chaos-wielders—those who could manipulate the wild, uncontrollable magic of Chaos that Tiamat had spawned—had forged a key that could unlock a portal to the alfar home world. A daring band of dreki warriors had invaded Álfheimr, captured the king’s queen, and then forced the alfar king to withdraw to his home world with his legions—or risk seeing her dead.

The king had agreed to the terms, no doubt assuming he could return with a vengeance.

But the Key of Chaos had been used again to close the portal and then had vanished into myth and legend. Some said it was destroyed. Others whispered it had been cast into a volcano or the deepest of oceans.

But Solveig—who knew her kind and their weaknesses best—knew that somewhere out there, a dreki guarded the key like a treasure in his horde.

“Someone has the key,” she whispered. “Someone used it.”

It took her a long moment to realize that Marduk wore a wincing expression.

“It’s not the key,” he admitted. “My sister, Ishtar, was born of pure Chaos. She cannot shift forms and fly, but she can perform seemingly impossible feats, and several months ago, she opened the portal at World’s End where the alfar staged their invasion. Nothing came through the circle there, and we insisted she close it, but….”

But.

The world fell away from her.

Solveig’s mouth dropped open.

“You mean to tell me that the circle at World’s End—which abuts my father’s lands—was opened to Álfheimr, even for a second, and nobody saw fit to inform the Sadu of this potential threat?”

The words came out flat and hard and incredulous, because surely nobody was that stupid?

“And what would you have done if you had been told?”

“Removed the threat,” she burst out. “Placed guards at the circle. Ensured that none of these stinking elves came through—”

“Precisely.” He prowled toward her. “We were handling it. The queen of the Ikkibu court has placed watchers at the portal, and—”

“Zorja Ravenspire?” Her voice rose several octaves. “The queen of the Forbidden Court? You allowed a foreign queen into my territories without telling me?”

“Your territories? Or your father’s?”

Solveig paced, her dreki lashing its inner tail. “I am my father’s heir. They will be mine one day. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“Yes,” he snarled. “You weren’t warned.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve already threatened to kill me,” he pointed out sharply. “What would you have done if you were told my twin sister had the ability to form a portal between the stars and open gateways to any of the nine worlds?” He laughed bitterly. “You said it yourself. You would remove the threat.”

Solveig fell into stillness.

And then she considered him.

“You misunderstand me,” she said coldly. “I am the daughter of Harald the Shrewd. I was raised on politics. My father has always cautioned for a steady head and a careful hand. You say your sister owns the ability to create such portals? That’s a powerful weapon in the wrong hands. In the right hands, it’s a gift. The Zilittu clan to the north have far too many Chaos-wielders within their clan. It’s bred into their bloodlines. The Sadu have none. That’s why we formed an alliance with your family’s clan in the first place. That’s why my father wanted you bred to me or one of my sisters. We can’t fight the Zilittu and their magic. But Chaos magic runs in your bloodlines and maybe, if we had Chaos-wielders in our court, we wouldn’t have to.”

Marduk’s shoulders squared, and any sense of good humor fell away from him. “Nobody is going to hurt my sister or use her for their own cause. Ishtar’s not a weapon. She’s not a gift to be used. She is a young female formed of flesh and blood who has never had a chance to live her own life. And I won’t let anyone manipulate her into a corner.”

She’d never seen him like this.

Gone was the rakish charmer.

Gone was the flirtatious prince who didn’t give a damn about anything.

In his place was a furious male dreki who was bound to protect what he considered to be his.

She’d never have believed it possible.

“And here I thought you were immune to your overprotective male urges,” she drawled.

He bared his teeth at her. “Not immune, no. Just selective in whom I apply them to.”

She glared at him.

He glared back.

Stalemate.

Solveig breathed through her anger. Ultimately, it was unimportant. What mattered was that the Sadu were unaware of the danger that was presented to them from Álfheimr. Their flanks were guarded by a foreign queen who had a reputation for ruthlessness. The Zilittu were still poised at their throat.

And any form of alliance between the Sadu and the Zini relied upon the mating bond between her and Marduk.

This was a disaster.

And despite her all-consuming rage—that little smoldering ember deep inside her—she couldn’t afford to give into her anger right now.

“I can’t kill you,” she said out loud.

His eyebrows shot up. “Well, that’s a relief.”

“Not right now.” Solveig tapped her lips. “Your sister can open a portal to Álfheimr, and it’s clear that something must have slipped through. Zorja’s watchers must not have been watching closely enough.”

“Or they’re dead.”

“Or they’re dead.” She crossed to the fire and warmed her hands, her mind a million miles away. “You say this Ishtar locked the gates. Why did she open them in the first place?”

Marduk looked troubled. “She said the voice in the moon told her to do so, but she claimed his name was Tyndyr.”

Solveig sucked in a sharp breath. “Tyndyr was the king of Álfheimr’s most brutal warlord. They said he died in battle.”

“But nobody ever found his body,” Marduk pointed out. “And yes, I’m aware of the implications of that.”

Troubling.

And elves were reputed to wield illusion and glamor.

“So someone was either impersonating him, or the bloodthirsty elvish bastard is still out there.” She could see him slipping away from a battle, wounded and bloody and hungry for revenge. “It was over a thousand years ago, but elves are long-lived, and he must have been sharpening his instinct for revenge for a long time. He finds your sister and manipulates her into opening the gates. She’s proven she has the power to do so. But she’s locked them, and now I may presume she’s carefully guarded in your court.” Solveig looked up. “And here we are in Iceland, barely a handful of miles from the Zini court within the Hekla volcano, and we’ve just run afoul of a handful of elves, which are admittedly scarce on this world.”

The color drained out of his face. “That son of a bitch. That’s who was in the inn. Tyndyr. He’s heading for Ishtar.” He took two steps and threw a look over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”

“Coming?” Her eyebrows shot up. “You think I’m coming with you? To your court?”

“You are my mate.”

“A technicality I’ve been intending to amend.”

“Well, you can stay out here. Alone. With a pack of vengeful elves out there on your trail, baying to make you crawl toward them.” His eyes narrowed. “And don’t think I didn’t notice your knees weakening. You were fighting it with everything you had, sweetheart, but you were thinking about it.”

“Oh, don’t you talk. You were practically kissing his feet.”

Marduk dragged a hand over his face, but she could see the edge of frustration within him. “I wasn’t expecting the weight of that glamor. I couldn’t stop myself. How the hell did you manage to break through it? He was aiming twice as much of his glamor at you as he was at me.”

She didn’t want to think about it.

Her dreki had been fighting and furious, but that wasn’t the moment.

No, it had been the knife to Marduk’s throat, the blood dripping down his neck….

But she couldn’t say that, so instead she loaded her voice with all the disgust she could. “Do you think I would ever crawl? Me?”

“Thank the gods for pure arrogance then.”

“Pure arrogance? I wasn’t the one who started simpering the second he said, ‘Aren’t you beautiful? Aren’t you magnificent?’” Solveig batted her lashes at him.

“Jealous?”

“He was talking to me, you idiot.”

Marduk laughed under his breath. “I wasn’t referring to you being jealous about me. You’re right. I would have gone to him and I would have done anything to get my hands on him, and I’ve never felt that way about a male before.” His eyes darted to hers, shockingly intense. “Were you jealous of him, Solveig? That I was so infatuated with him that I could barely breathe?”

Her lips trapped her tongue. It wasn’t often that she felt flustered, and yet when he looked at her like that, the world narrowed until only the pair of them existed.

She hated that feeling.

“Is it morning yet?” she asked instead, balling her fist. “Can I hit you yet?”

“You can try,” he offered with a teasing smile. “But I didn’t promise that I would let you.”

Goddess, that smirk. She tilted her face to the moon. If I kill him now, will you truly strike me down for breaking my word?

The moon—and the goddess—didn’t answer.

“I need to get back to Ishtar’s side as soon as possible. They need her if they’re going to open that portal for the rest of their armies, and I’m not inclined to let the world start swimming with those smarmy mincing bastards again. Do you agree?”

The Zini court was the last place she wanted to go.

But…

She couldn’t return to her home.

She’d sworn an oath to the goddess that she wouldn’t return until she’d killed Marduk. Maybe she could reach her father via a psychic link in order to warn him, but the distance was great and the odds improbable. There was an entire sea between them and water often disrupted magic.

The Zini king would have a means to contact her father. She could warn him then. And then she would be perfectly placed to assist in this little elvish plot.

Vengeance could wait.

“Fine. We’ll return to your court. I want these bastards dead.”

“I thought you might see it that way.”

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend, Marduk, but don’t get comfortable. The second these elves are buried in the ground, I’m going to try to kill you again.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else.” He suddenly flashed a smile at her—a perfect blinding smile that almost made her breath catch. “But be careful, Solveig. There’s more than one way to win a war. And now I know you’re out there and you want my heart, I’m going to be on my guard. One way or another, this needs to end. One of us needs to surrender.”

“You think it’s going to be me?”

“You did save my life. I don’t think you hate me as much as you claim to.”

You son of a bitch—

“I didn’t like the odds. And I wasn’t going to let that prick steal my kill.”

Marduk laughed as his fingers dropped to the buttons on the trousers he’d stolen. She could sense his magic swelling within him as he prepared to shift. “Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart. And do try not to stare too much.”

Solveig growled and turned around as she started tugging at her own shirt. “I’m going to kill you slowly. So slowly you beg me for mercy. They will write sagas about the painful death I envision.”

“All these dirty promises…. You know what I think? One of is going to beg for mercy… But it won’t be me.”

Solveig fought the urge to scream.

4

“Elves?” Rurik demanded the second Marduk pushed through the double doors leading to his brother’s antechambers. “In my lands? Are you sure?”

Marduk sighed as he approached his brother. He’d contacted Rurik the second he and Solveig were free of their pursuit. Rurik sat at the head of a round table surrounded by at least twelve other chairs. Ten of them were filled with members of the Zini court.

“Yes, brother. I’m sure. They made my skin creep.”

“That’s not all they made you do,” said a voice behind him.

Heads turned.

Solveig sauntered into the room like a queen without her crown. The cloak he’d found for her was spattered with mud, and her hair looked like a wild tangle that had been through a storm, but she moved as if she intend to kick Rurik off his throne and claim it herself.

Despite her borrowed clothes.

Marduk suddenly realized his brother had never actually met the princess. Rurik had been exiled to the north long before she’d flown into Marduk’s life and set his fate spinning wildly off course.

This was going to be so much fun.

“Your brother was two seconds away from kissing the elf’s boot,” Solveig purred. “If we weren’t in such dire straits, I may have paused to enjoy the idea of seeing him so humbled.”

“And… you are?”

It was a challenge, for Rurik knew exactly who was standing in his council chambers.

“Oh, did I not mention my companion?” Marduk couldn’t keep the grin off his face as Solveig took a seat in the chair he held out for her.

Solveig reclined with ease, both arms resting on the arms and a relaxed expression on her face. She’d crossed one of her long legs over the other, her borrowed boots laced to her knees, and her lean curves encased in a slim pair of boys’ trousers.

“You did not,” Rurik said flatly. “Though I do note that the last I saw of you, you were going to fetch the assassin who had tried to put an arrow through your heart. You did not mention the fact you were going to return with her.”

“Have a little respect, brother. You speak of my beloved mate. It was a minor misunderstanding between us.”

His sister Árdís gasped. “Your mate?”

Rurik ignored her. “She tried to kill you.”

“I didn’t try that hard,” Solveig purred. “King Rurik. A pleasure to meet you.”

“A pleasure?” Rurik leaned forward. “That arrow was dwarven-forged.”

“Rurik.” His wife, Freyja, put her hand over his. “Shall we let bygones be bygones? I feel like we need to hear what your brother has to say, and he’s the one who should be affronted. Not you.”

Rurik subsided with a smoldering glare.

“I don’t want to hear what Marduk has to say,” Árdís scoffed. “I am much more fascinated by the current conversation.” She leaned forward, eyeing Solveig with predatory eyes. “You tried to kill my brother? Why have I not heard of this?”

She sounded delighted.

“That would make two attempts,” said her husband, Haakon.

Tormund—Haakon’s enormous cousin—rubbed at his beard. “By my count it was three, wasn’t it? Remember that story Marduk told us when we were hanging in her cell? You know, about that song he made up ten years ago—"

Marduk needed to stop this in its tracks.

“Shut up, Árdís. Allow me to introduce my beloved mate, Princess Solveig of the Sadu clan. Solveig, may I present to you the people of my clan,” Marduk said, gesturing to the rest of the room. “My brat of a sister, Árdís, and her scowling husband, Haakon Dragonsbane, whom you may recall. You put him in chains three months ago. You also know Tormund” —he clapped a hand on the giant’s shoulder as he circled the table— “and his wife, Bryn, since you paid her to drag me back to your court in chains, but… let us move on. And at the end is my murderous cousin, Sirius, of course, with the lovely Malin.”

He smiled at his cousin’s wife.

Sirius leaned back in his chair and arched a brow, as if to point out that he had no qualms in living up to his reputation should Marduk so much as wink at her.

“I don’t believe you’ve met Ishtar, my much more beloved sister.” He gestured toward his twin, who was staring curiously at Solveig’s boots, and the handsome, black-haired youth at her side. “My cousin, Andri, who is somewhat less murderous than his brother, Sirius. And last but not least is my queen, Freyja.” Marduk captured the queen’s hand and kissed the back of it. “Renowned throughout the lands for her beauty, her temper, and the fact that she’s the only one who can pound sense into this idiot’s thick skull.”

Rurik settled an icy look upon him. “Are you quite done?”

“Sorry. I’ve been looking forward to this moment all flight.”

“Does he always talk this much?” Solveig asked the room in general.

“Yes,” Rurik replied. “He’s always enjoyed the sound of his own voice.”

The two of them stared at each other as if surprised to find themselves momentary allies.

Solveig smiled. It softened her expression in ways that made his gaze lock hard upon that smile. It promised friendship. Offered a warmth he did not expect her to own.

He knew better.

She was biding her time.

And that little smile she wore probably had more to do with a fantasy she was currently indulging in where he was bound and spread-eagled and she had a knife in her hand, rather than any sort of enjoyment over her circumstances. “Since we’re all so terribly interested, allow me to clarify my position. I did as my father instructed. I submitted to a mating that would cement the alliance between our clans. I upheld the good name and faith of the Sadu clan.” Eyes as hot as flame locked upon him. “But I am done playing such games. I will have an end to this mating one way or another.”

Silence settled over the room.

It wasn’t unheard of.

Dreki mated for many reasons—the prospect of heirs, alliances, territorial disputes, politicking—but such matings rarely survived forever. Dreki lived for such a terribly long time, and only those matings where one found their true flame—a true alliance of the heart and soul—tended to survive so many centuries.

But a mere three months was possibly a new record.

“I am here for one reason, and one reason only,” she continued, leaning forward and directing that predatory stare upon Rurik. “Apparently, the portal at World’s End was opened to Álfheimr. I need to be able to protect my people, and while I believed we were allied with the Zini—courtesy of my sacrifice—I seem to have been somewhat mistaken, because you’ve been keeping secrets… and allies don’t do that.”

Rurik didn’t so much as blink as he steepled his fingers together. “Your father is aware.”

“He is?” Her eyebrows rose.

“I sent a messenger two days ago,” Rurik replied.

Solveig’s fingers drummed on the table. “You’ve known for three months. Why only send a messenger now?”

Nobody could manage to look as smug as Rurik could. “Because apparently, my first one didn’t get through. We found the remains of his body only last week.”

Marduk pressed the tip of his tongue to his teeth. There was a great deal more that his brother wasn’t saying, but he needed to follow his lead.

The answer clearly soothed some of Solveig’s ruffled feathers. “And now?”

Rurik turned those amber eyes upon Marduk. “Elves in my lands. An attack upon my brother. Tyndyr tricked Ishtar into opening the portal once, but he failed in his quest. If he’s here in Iceland, then he’s coming for her again.”

Ishtar blinked in surprise. “Me?” Her whisper echoed in his head. She rarely spoke out loud, preferring to communicate on a psychic level—when she chose to do so at all.

“We’ll keep you safe,” Marduk promised, settling a hand on the back of her chair. “We suspect they wish to use your magic to open the portal again.”

She shook her head. “I won’t do it.”

“I know.” She’d been horrified to learn that Tyndyr had manipulated her into opening it in the first place.

“I thought he was my friend,” she’d whispered sadly.

“The court is locked and warded,” Haakon said. “After… recent events, nobody’s getting in or out without us knowing. She’ll be safe here.”

Ishtar shrank a little, and Marduk squeezed her shoulder three times. It was their little code. A reminder that said he loved her.

“I’ll watch over her,” Tormund, who had appointed himself her guardian, promised.

A sharp rap came at the door.

“Come in,” Rurik replied.

The door opened, revealing the lore master’s youngest daughter, Elin. Her father had recently been incapacitated by a mysterious illness, and she spent most of her time nursing him back to health and dealing with his tasks. Rurik had mentioned she was thinking of following in her father’s footsteps as lore mistress of the clan.

“Your Highness,” Elin said, setting a book down in front of Rurik. “You requested more information about the alfar and what they might be after. And I think I have found something.” She flipped the book open, running her finger down the page. “It was said during the great wars between dreki and alfar that the dreki stole the King of Álfheimr’s wife in order to defeat them. She was supposed to be returned during a parley, but I have been poring over my father’s dreki histories, and I ran across this little paragraph.” She altered her voice as if she was reading, “Treachery was to be the key of the day, and so treachery it was. When the King of Álfheimr met with King Rodan of the dreki nations, they stood upon World’s End and pledged their peace. The elvish king would retreat to his home world with his wife, as freely gifted by Rodan. And the gates would be locked with the Key of Chaos.”

Rurik frowned. “So they wish to renew their war?”

“They wish to find their queen,” Elin corrected, biting her lip. “From what I can make of this, King Rodan was shot with an arrow. The peace was shattered, the elvish queen was never surrendered, and the King of Álfheimr was forced to retreat through the portal. The dreki then used the Key of Chaos to lock the gates… with the elvish queen on this side of them.”

“So they’re looking for their queen?” Marduk asked. “If this Tyndyr has been trapped on this side of the portal for all these years, then why has he not found her?”

Elin shrugged. “I know nothing of the elvish queen beyond these few sentences. I’ve never heard her mentioned before.”

Queen Freyja frowned. “My mother spoke of some of the circles that litter the countryside. She used to say it was never safe to enter them, for sometimes, when the world’s aligned, one could step through and find themselves in Álfheimr. On Winter’s Solstice, she said if you listened closely you could hear the elvish queen crying out, for she was trapped within one of the circles, forever searching for a way to return home.”

Elin glanced at her a little disdainfully. “You could spend a thousand years waiting for the worlds to align in the correct formation. That sounds like human superstition to me, Your Highness.”

Freyja tilted her eyebrow at the young drekling. It wasn’t the first time she’d been forced to face dreki prejudice about her human heritage. “Where do you think human superstitions come from? They are stories, Elin, passed down through generation after generation. Perhaps there is some truth in it, no? For Marduk said that World’s End is one such circle, bound by thirteen enormous lintel stones. And it leads to Álfheimr.”

“We will look into it,” Rurik promised her, squeezing her hand.

Freyja pressed her lips thinly together.

“Without Ishtar, there’s only one other way to achieve their goal,” Solveig said, leaning forward a little hungrily as she locked eyes with Rurik. “They’ll need the Key of Chaos.”

The king slowly drummed his fingers on the table. “Nobody has seen it for over a thousand years.”

Marduk winced.

This was punishment. Surely it was punishment.

“We have to send warning to the other courts beyond our allies. They’ll need to be made aware,” Sirius said. “Because if the alfar discover where the key is, then they won’t need Ishtar.”

“It doesn’t matter who we warn,” Árdís said. “Nobody’s going to admit they have it.”

Closing his eyes, Marduk released a sigh. “I know where it is.”

“You do?” Elin blurted.

“What? Where?” Árdís demanded.

He could sense all eyes upon him, and slowly opened his. But the one gaze he was trying not to meet was locked upon him.

“You said you’d told me everything,” Solveig growled. “You lied.”

“I never lied,” he pointed out. “‘Everything’ is a vast statement.”

Fury flushed color beneath her olive skin. Dreki dared not speak a direct lie for fear their magic might suffuse their words—though it was rare, it had happened in the past with dire consequences—and half-truths and careful silences had become etiquette.

But he was already standing on thin ice when it came to her.

“IT’S a rumor I heard in my travels,” he told her. “There is an Ethiopian dreki tribe who were said to be in possession of a powerful relic. Nobody knows what it is, but they are said to collect Chaos relics. And… there are whispers they once brought a dreki back from the dead.”

As the key was rumored to be able to do.

Thought raced in Rurik’s eyes. “Then we need to send emissaries to warn them.”

“An excellent suggestion, brother mine…, but the relic is no longer in Ethiopia.” He was stalling, and he knew it. “I’ve heard it was given as dowry to another court when the eldest daughter of the Ethiopian dreki clan chief was formally mated.”

“To whom?”

“This is the bit you’re not going to like. Which European court has an obsession with Chaos magic and the most practitioners in the northern hemisphere?”

“The Zilittu,” Árdís whispered. “Mother’s clan.”

“To take and to hold,” he echoed the Zilittu clan motto as he spread his hands. “There was a strange illness within the Ethiopian clan. The Zilittu, it seems, were the only ones with the cure. So they bartered the cure in exchange for the hand of Andromeda—and her dowry. There’s a very quiet murmur that the illness in her tribe was some sort of poison, and that the Zilittu got what they wanted all along.”

“I’ve heard nothing of this,” Solveig argued, “and I have eyes on every continent of the world.”

Marduk shrugged. “I daresay you haven’t. It’s not the thing one speaks of unless you’ve been smoking kif in Chefchaouen with a certain dreki smuggler you’ve spent years cultivating trust in.”

She stared at him.

“What?”

“You keep company with such… friends?”

“I’ve been in exile for ten years. Do you know how many courts sneered down their nose at me? And how many dreki I met in back alleys and taverns who would have promised me their arm—despite their so-called reputations?”

Rurik closed his eyes as if he could taste something vile. “We need to warn the Zilittu.”

“The Zilittu who aren’t supposed to have such an item in their possession and are probably quite intent on maintaining the secrecy of its existence?” Marduk drawled, reaching for a grape from the platter on the table. “The Zilittu who birthed Mother and our evil uncle Stellan into the world? The Zilittu who hide within their cloaking mists and pretend—when a traveler goes missing within their lands—that they’ve never seen or heard of them? An excellent idea, brother. I do not volunteer.”

But he could see a plan was already forming in Rurik’s head. “The Zilittu are our cousins by our mother’s line. We have long held a… truce with them. And with Árdís and Ishtar wielding Chaos—with no means to learn how to control their powers—we have cause to send an emissary.”

“They’re still not going to give you their most important relic.”

“I wasn’t planning on asking for it,” Rurik said.

Goddess’s Mercy. “You want to steal it?”

Staid, upright Rurik?

“If there is one thing I have learned over the years, it is this: the Zilittu give nothing away freely. With the key, we can close the portal for good. And I prefer to think of it in terms of borrowing it.”

“You’re talking about war,” he pointed out.

“If it comes to it, yes. But I would rather fight the Zilittu than an entire army of elves.”

Árdís paled. “You’re sending me and Ishtar to the Zilittu court to steal the key?”

The king smiled. “A formal diplomatic party that comprises of the two of you”—his eyes came to rest, unerringly, on Marduk— “and my beloved brother. We haven’t congratulated the new Zilittu king on his mating lines yet, either.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Marduk demanded. “The Zilittu can’t be trusted.”

“We’ve always known that,” Rurik replied. And then he smiled at Solveig. “Which is why you will be joining them. Your ties to your father shall be a statement that both clans are watching them. They won’t dare try anything underhanded.”

“Absolutely not,” Solveig replied calmly. “My part in this is done. I need to return to my father and rouse my warband. War is coming—”

“And the key to winning such a war is in Zilittu hands,” Rurik replied.

Marduk slung his arm over the back of his chair. Here came the fun part of the afternoon. Rock meet stone.

“You’re not my king, so the answer is no,” Solveig said. “And I’m no thief.”

She looked perfectly at ease, as if staring down dreki kings was something she did for sheer enjoyment.

“Even if I have something you want?” Rurik murmured.

“I’m not interested in gold or treasure or—”

“I must have something you want,” Rurik countered, his eyes flaring bright gold. “A… peaceful dissolution to a certain agreement between courts, perhaps?”

Solveig turned to stone.

But Marduk sat forward, sending a psychic link toward his brother. “I spent hours arguing for dissolution of our mating contract. You denied me every time.”

Rurik didn’t even look in his direction. “Such dissolution was not to the benefit of the court. Now, it is.”

“To end such an arrangement means the end of this alliance between our clans,” Rurik said out loud. “And with the threat of World’s End and this sudden incursion by the alfar, I think this is a time for the Sadu and Zini clans to hold strongly. But once the matter is dealt with—”

“I will not suffer this arrangement a second longer than I must,” Solveig growled.

“Nor would I insist this mating stand any longer than needs must. But an agreement must be reached. The alliance must stand until this elvish threat is handled.”

Solveig idly tapped her long nails on the table. “What do you suggest?”

“Marduk must make amends,” Rurik said, which made Marduk look at him sharply. “He will formally apologize to the Sadu on the agreement that you will not seek to cause him harm whilst you are under my aegis.”

Her eyes turned thoughtful.

“You will be part of the Zini clan’s embassy to Zilittu lands, in order to represent our alliance with the Sadu. Their king must think the Sadu-Zini alliance is without fault. Travel to their court with my embassy and help retrieve the key, and I will end your mating contract.”

There was not a hint of trickery on the king’s face, but Marduk had spent the past three months playing cards with him. This was not the whole of the story—nor the whole of the plan.

“Just what are you up to?” he asked, because he’d spent the past three months getting absolutely destroyed at cards—and he was very good at cheating.

His brother always played several moves ahead. It was a rare hand that beat him.

“Making peace, brother.”

“Peace? We’ll kill each other before we even arrive at the Zilittu court.”

Rurik cut the connection.

You son of a wyrm. Marduk fought the instinct to say it out loud.

Because he wasn’t the one his brother was maneuvering right now.

“Upon the retrieval of the key, the Sadu clan’s obligations to the Zini will be met, and our alliance considered to be cemented. I will gladly allow you to sever ties with my brother at the end of this quest,” Rurik continued.

Solveig finally looked pleased. “I accept.”

THE KING EXHALED LOUDLY as his inner court left his chambers, and slowly slipped his crown from his head. Its weight grew heavier each day.

His wife, Freyja, circled behind his chair, one hand resting on his shoulder. “Just what are you playing at?”

He slid his hand over his mate’s. Sometimes, it seemed as though his life would be far simpler were he to return to his days as the fierce dreki who slumbered in the volcano at Krafla.

But then he’d never have met her. Never have had a chance to love her. Never seen her grow to become a mortal queen of a dreki court.

And he’d not have been able to hold his brother and sisters in his arms and see this court free of the corruption his mother had wielded.

A small price to pay to lead it.

“I hardly think the alliance with Harald will crumble should they end their mating,” Freyja muttered, “considering the letter that arrived from him ten days ago.”

Rurik leaned back and she cradled his head against her midriff. “True. Perhaps you can consider us two crafty old dreki who seek to meddle in the lives of our reckless brethren.”

Freyja tilted his chin back so their eyes met.

“You’re matchmaking?” she asked incredulously. “You think there’s even a chance that Marduk and Solveig could possibly surmount the gulf between them?”

He drew her into his lap. “You have to understand my brother, my love. Marduk has always been aloof and prone to look to the horizon. He chafed within this court and longed to ride free on the wind. And for the last ten years, he has flitted from one country to another, from one bed to another. I have never once seen him look at something and wish to linger. Not the way his gaze does when he looks at Solveig.”

“I think she’s going to kill him.”

“Mmm. Not according to Harald.”

“You thought she was going to kill him,” she pointed out. “You were almost rude to her to begin with.”

Rurik unleashed a smile. “I thought about it all day, and Marduk was right. If she’d wanted him dead, then he would be dead. Did you notice how protective he became when I confronted her?”

“You were playing them then. What precisely did that letter say?”

“That it will take a charming prince to tame his daughter’s fierce spirit. Solveig has spent her entire life fighting to prove herself. Male dreki wince when she glares at them and flee when she crooks her finger. Her pride knows no bounds, and the walls she guards her heart with are solid steel.” He nipped at her finger. “But the only time he has ever seen his daughter falter is when Marduk first appeared in his court ten years ago.”

“What happened ten years ago?”

“I don’t know.” It was the one flaw to his plan. “I was in exile, and Árdís only knows that Marduk was sent to make a formal alliance with the Sadu, except he fled and was never seen again. And there was something about a song that spoke of a heartless princess, and for no dreki male to seek to surmount such a… wench for fear he’d lose those parts most precious to him.”

Freyja’s eyes narrowed. “I think I want to punch him in the nose.”

“Mmm.” His hand slid down to the curve of her hip. “My brother is many things, but loose with his tongue? I think not. Marduk could charm the birds from the sky if he wished it. But instead he mocked one of the princesses he was meant to choose as a mate. That is not my brother, my little mouse. Something riled him—something with wickedly dark eyes and an unsmiling mouth, if I have any sense to my name.”

“They look like two cats locked in a barn together.”

He laughed. “I love your farmyard analogies.”

“Seriously, Rurik.” Freyja laced her arms around his neck. “I’ve seen cats fighting. One of them is going to return with a missing ear, and the other will be limping. This could end badly, especially if you’re sending them into a dangerous court.”

He lifted his face until their lips were almost touching. “Would you care to bet on that?”

She breathed him in, tilting her face so he could nip at her chin. “Not when you’re playing games. But do remember, my love…, you’re playing with your brother’s fate. He may not be grateful to you for it.”

A shadow fell over his heart. “Is he ever grateful for any of it?”

Freyja paused. And then she kissed his lips. “Patience. Your mother’s ghost haunts you all in different ways. And Marduk spent many years thinking you responsible for the death of your father. He was there when it happened, Rurik. And though you’ve forgiven Sirius for his role in the king’s death, I don’t think Marduk has. Not entirely. He still sees your father’s body. As do many others of the court. You knew when you pardoned Sirius, it was never going to be easy.”

He sighed. “Healing what my mother has done to this court never is. I’m just lucky I’ve got you by my side.”

“Barn analogies and all?” she teased.

This time, his smile was genuine. “Barn analogies and all. What would I do without you?”

5

Ten years ago

“ONE WOULD THINK you were avoiding me,” called a voice.

Solveig stilled, then continued running her finger along the edge of her rapier. Though many dreki males preferred a long sword, or a heavier broadsword, she liked cold Flemish steel.

With it, she was lightning and murder.

Turning around, she tried to ignore the flutter of wings within her chest as Prince Marduk strolled onto the tower courtyard. Her dreki hissed at the intruder, but she forced herself to be polite. Or as polite as she could possibly be. “One would think you were wise.”

Marduk laughed. “Ah, something I’ve never been accused of.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

But she said it with a smile, and there was a moment where he stared at her as if trying to work his way through the comment and her sincerity. It was the sweetest insult she’d ever delivered, and even she might have been distracted by her dulcet tones.

Excellent. He was a fool. A blond, ridiculously handsome fool.

“Let me guess?” she mused. “You’ve walked the gardens with Aslaug. Dined with Siv. And now you’re here to flatter me. I can save you the breath. We can both pretend you’ve done your duty and batted those pretty eyelashes at me. And then we can go about our day peacefully.”

“Pretty eyelashes?”

Had he not heard what she’d said? “I’m not interested in being courted. Go bother someone else. Is that too difficult to understand?”

Silence.

Marduk slowly cocked his head on an angle. “Perhaps I’m merely curious as to what I’ve done that you find so offensive.”

“I find this entire affair offensive,” she said.

“Ah, so it’s not merely me? It’s the situation.”

“Shall we say both and call it a day?”

She moved to push past him, but he was suddenly right in front of her. An obvious sidestep she saw coming, but she simply hadn’t expected him to actually stand in her way.

Males generally didn’t.

They collided, and Solveig barely avoided running him through with the rapier. Hard hands captured her forearms, but it was the strength of his body that caught her by surprise. Every inch of him was firm and molded with muscle. He had an inch on her in her heels. But it felt like more, and for one unconscionable moment she wanted to lean into that strength, to yield. To have his hands on her appealed in some way she’d never, ever known before.

She paused.

She damned well paused.

And he knew it.

And worse, her dreki was suddenly clawing at her from the inside, screaming that she needed to get away from him.

“Why don’t you like me?” It was the voice of a prince who was used to getting his way—a golden prince who’d spent years twitching his finger only to have every maid in the vicinity wilt at his feet.

Instead, he ran into the stone wall of her will and he didn’t understand it.

Patience. Think of the treaty. This is important for the clan. It gives us our best chance against withstanding the encroaching Zilittu. Instead, she opened her mouth, and words fell out of it. “Did you imagine everyone found your presence charming? Is it so impossible to comprehend that one would prefer to linger with a sweaty sock rather than endure another moment of your presence?”

Lightning flashed through his eyes. “Maybe I’m developing quite an enjoyment of punishment?”

“If you find my company punishment, then leave.”

“I would,” he replied, “but your father pointed me in this direction, and now I’m forced to endure your withering stares. I wouldn’t want to disappoint him. You could smile once or twice a day, you know?”

Solveig leaned close enough for her to feel the delicious heat smoldering within him. “I only smile when I’m imagining disemboweling an enemy.”

The bastard actually laughed as she shoved away from him. “At least you’re honest. Do you know what I think?”

“You think?”

“On very rare occasions,” he replied, as if her insult simply bounced off him. “I think we’re both forced into a situation neither of us particularly cares for, and only one of us is handling it gracefully.”

Gracefully? She turned on him, and for the first time, his gaze slid to the rapier as if he’d finally realized she had a dangerous weapon in her hand and the inclination to use it.

“If you kill me, it might complicate matters,” he pointed out.

“But it would be so enjoyable. The question is: Would that single moment of utter bliss be worth it?”

Marduk actually laughed as he began to roll up his sleeves. “Oh, this is better. Now you’re no longer pretending to be polite. I think I prefer this.” Heat seared his amber eyes, as if he’d found his equilibrium again and swiftly changed suit to confront her. “No, it wouldn’t be worth it. A quick death would be too kind, and I haven’t even begun to irritate you yet.”

“Go. Away,” she told him. “We’ll both tell Father you gave it your best attempt. Your smile almost charmed me, but apparently, we wouldn’t suit.”

“Is that what you think I want? To charm you?”

Solveig paused.

“We’ve both figured out that the other wouldn’t suit us. And neither of us is interested in courting the other, so why not dispense with the games? We have to spend a certain amount of time together in order to retain appearances. So why don’t we do something we both enjoy?” Marduk leaned closer, his smile holding dangerous edges. “I want to fight. And you appear to be halfway decent with a sword, according to all sources.”

He truly was an idiot.

But the thought appealed a little.

There was nothing half as enjoyable as absolutely skewering male dreki pride.

Fighting him was reckless. Males, in her experience, didn’t like to lose. “If I set you on your ass, your entire court will be baying for my blood.”

“If you can manage to set me on my ass, what makes you think I’m going to tell anyone? I’m not the sort to tuck tail and run bleating to my mother.” A darkness edged his fading smile. “And she’s not the sort of mother to respect a son who would do such a thing.”

“Wise woman.”

Something about his expression made her think something was amiss. “Mmm, not the word I would generally use to describe her. Now, are you going to fight with me, or would you rather we skip straight to kissing?”

Kissing? Was he serious? “I thought you had no intentions of courting me?”

“What do kissing and courting have to do with each other? Because you might hate me, but there’s a part of me that wonders if all this arguing is merely foreplay.”

Her jaw dropped open.

What?

Marduk rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Surely you know angry sex is the best kind of sex there is. And your gaze lingers on my backside often enough that I’m not unaware you find me physically pleasing.”

Despite the fact he’d guessed correctly—or truly had been doing his research—she was flabbergasted.

Angry sex.

Him.

Her.

Teeth and nails and hard fucking up against a wall.

The breath slammed out of her even as wetness slicked between her thighs.

“If you bring those lips anywhere near me,” she growled, “I will kick you off the top of this tower.”

“Still won’t kill me, sweetheart.” Marduk spun around, heading for the rapier rack. He hauled his silk coat off his shoulders, tossing it aside carelessly as he reached for a blade. “Are you going to fight me? Or are you too afraid you’ll ruffle my pretty blond hair?”

Solveig was still struggling to recollect herself in the wake of not murdering him over the “foreplay” comment, and that “sweetheart” almost slipped right past her. The sight of his white shirt caressing the broad planes of his chest was enough to steal what was left of her wits.

He was gorgeous. All golden hair, leonine grace, and power bunched into a spectacular set of muscles.

She hated it.

She hated everything about him, from the flashing white smile to the dimple on the right side of his mouth. The stupid, careless way he didn’t give a damn about her insults. She’d been frightening males away for years with the merest snarl, and it was incredibly frustrating to come across one who simply plowed through her warnings without a care in the world.

But most of all, she hated the way her body flared with interest the second he threw the concept of hate sex into the air between them.

Running his fingers along the rapier, he gave her another look. “Well?” he demanded with a wicked little smile. “Are we dueling?”

“Oh, we’re dueling.” Her entire body practically vibrated with tension. “No mercy, Marduk. I’m going to beat you so badly you go flying back to your mother with your tail tucked between your legs. I’m going to make you cry tears of pure fire.”

“So many dirty promises.”

Solveig lunged forward.

A little metallic ping echoed somewhere to the left as she recovered, and Marduk looked down to where his shirt was suddenly missing a button. There was not so much as a tear in the linen.

“I thought you weren’t trying to get me naked?” He countered with a ruthless attack.

Solveig brushed it aside, but his response came lightning fast, and she was forced into a stiff retreat, countering vicious blows she barely managed to deflect.

A second button pinged.

Marduk retreated with a courtly bow.

Solveig glanced down at her gaping shirt, her jaw dropping open.

“A button for a button, my dear.” He spread his arms wide. “Though if you want more of mine, then all you have to do is ask.”

Fury overrode her. Their rapiers clashed again and again. He had strength on his side—and reach—but she was faster.

It was somewhat disconcerting to realize he was almost her equal.

Almost.

“What’s wrong?” Marduk’s smile made her want to kick his teeth in as they broke apart for a brief moment. “Were you not expecting me to match you?”

“I will admit I’m a little surprised, considering you look like a silk handkerchief. Pretty, but ultimately useless.”

Marduk threw back his head and laughed, and ugh, there was her dreki again, screeching inside her. “There wasn’t a great deal to do in my court while I was growing up. One of the swordmasters took pity on me, and offered to teach me how to duel. And I had visions of being some dashing pirate somewhere.” He waved the tip of his sword in a low zigzag. “Yourself?”

A pirate?

What was wrong with him?

“I wanted to protect my sisters,” she told him coldly. “And my people. In my court, princes and princesses are expected to serve their clan. We don’t run off to have selfish little adventures.”

His smile flattened. “Well, they did say you’re an ice princess.”

She almost lowered her sword. “What?”

“I was warned, most desperately, not to provoke you.”

“Well, you didn’t succeed,” she snarled, lunging forward.

“Who said I intended to listen? I told you, I like adventure,” he countered, and her rapier slid down his until they were practically entwined. His voice came in a rough-edged whisper, taut with smoky enjoyment. “What are you going to do now that this selfish little princeling has your measure?”

Solveig drove her knee into his thigh.

Marduk staggered back with a wince, their blades disengaging. “Storm’s teeth.” He shot her a murderous look as he hobbled to the side. “That was unkind.”

Solveig prowled the top of the tower. “What are you talking about? I missed.”

Another wince. “Well, they were right. You are ruthless.”

They.

She refused to let it bother her that the loyal members of her court might be sowing disparaging seeds about her to his ears. She didn’t care what they said about her. She’d decided—at the age of fourteen—that she was going to create her own destiny, and those who disapproved could see their wings clipped.

But it rankled that no matter her accomplishments—how much she did for her clan—she was “cold” and “untouchable” and an “ice princess” simply because she didn’t roll over and bat her eyelashes at some male.

She knew exactly who he was talking about too. The older males in the clan. The ones who resented the way she’d taken over the warband at the young age of twenty.

He wanted her to be ruthless?

So be it.

Solveig drove forward like murder in black leather. She hammered him until he was forced into a retreat. Marduk’s eyes widened as if he sensed the change in her demeanor.

He shoved her back with brute strength, the muscle in his shoulders flexing beneath his shirt. The dangerous flash of his smile distracted her, and then he was lunging forward, forcing her to leap back as his rapier whistled through the air where her abdomen had just been.

Solveig landed like a cat, her eyes narrowing as he examined the point of his rapier as if he’d proven his point.

And a third button slowly rattled edge-over-edge on the ground beside her.

A sudden chill breeze danced across her stomach.

“I was trying to be gentlemanly,” he pointed out. “I left you the crucial button.”

That son of a wyrm.

Solveig bared her teeth at him as she attacked.

She was fighting in earnest now, desperate to destroy this intruder—or at least to drive him from her home.

Beware the attack made in a storm of emotion, her mother’s voice whispered. Be lightning, Solveig. Fast. Deadly. Controlled. Strike with precision.

But it wasn’t precision that drove her forward right now.

How dared he?

The tip of her rapier scored across his cheek, and his eyes lit with dangerous fire. They were both breathing hard, and his shirt started to cling to him as steel flashed.

He’d lasted longer than she’d have expected.

He might have learned his lessons well, but she was cold discipline. There were years of daily training behind her. All she had to do was wear him out.

His teeth bared in a strained smile as if he knew it. His boot scraped across the tile as he danced back. Maybe a little hint of exhaustion.

Ambition flared.

And then somehow, she made a fatal mistake.

It was a step too far—her lunge slightly extended.

He wasn’t retreating. Instead, he broke to the side, slamming his blade down upon hers in such a jarring blow that it broke from her fingers.

She was disarmed, and he followed it up quickly, placing the tip of his rapier beneath her chin. Solveig straightened. She couldn’t believe it.

He’d beaten her.

Beaten her.

Breathing hard, he slowly lowered his sword. “You’re good—”

His mistake. She swept the sword aside with her forearm guard, rolled into him, and drove her elbow into his ribs. An “oof” of breath burst from him, and she dug her fingers into the nerve of his thumb. Suddenly, she was in possession of his blade.

Flicking her own rapier up into her left hand, she spun and kicked him in the chest, slamming him back against the wall before pressing both crossed blades across his throat in an X.

“Please tell me you weren’t going to say that you’re better,” Solveig mocked, her chest heaving with exertion.

He noticed, and the insolent look in his eyes fired her fury. “Oh, I know I’m not. But technically, I won.”

She leaned into the blades, and his head tipped up frantically as both edges caressed the sides of his throat. “I never surrendered, Marduk.” Raking a scornful glance down his sweat-dampened body, she arched a mocking brow. “Somewhat premature of you to claim victory, don’t you think? Rather like this concept of… foreplay. Disappointing.”

“Oh, I promise you, there’s nothing premature about any of my foreplay. Easy,” the prince mocked, tilting his throat to her as he pushed gently at her hand. “You’ll start a war with just one reckless moment.”

Solveig leaned closer, until she could almost taste his breath on her lips. “Maybe it would be worth it.”

His chest rose and fell, and to her shock, a thumb brushed against her thigh as he gently laid his hand there. “To my utter surprise, you echo my sentiments. Though not their target. A reckless moment with you might indeed be worth the risk of war.”

Solveig froze as his gaze slid to that single button holding her shirt together. The fingertips on his other hand traced another soft, teasing little circle on her hip. It asked a question.

And for the life of her, she wasn’t sure what the answer was.

The dreki writhed within her, on edge with his presence. It physically hurt to hold it within her, and Solveig’s fingers curled into a fist.

“There’s a storm inside you.” His voice sounded as though he was just making this realization. “How do they not see it?”

“Who?” she whispered.

“All those idiots who think you’re cold and ruthless.” Heat blazed to life in his eyes as he pushed closer, careless of the cold steel she still wielded. “You’re not cold. Not at all—”

“But I am ruthless.”

Stabbing the blades between his legs, she shoved away from him, pleased to see him scramble away from the warning blow. Both swords wavered back and forth, their points driven into stone. Ruined.

But worth it.

Because it gave her a chance to catch her breath.

What was he doing to her?

She could almost taste that thwarted kiss.

And worse still, a part of her wanted it.

“They don’t see it because they don’t want to see it,” she snapped as she crossed to where her water flask sat. Goddess’s mercy, he was getting beneath her skin. Him. A handsome, arrogant charmer.

What was wrong with her?

Marduk pushed away from the wall, his eyes filled with predatory intent, as if he could sense her struggle. “They don’t see it? Or you don’t want them to see it?”

She froze, unscrewing the lid. It was incredibly close to her intentions. “What do you mean?”

His smile was savage. “I think I understand you now, Princess. Nobody gets close, do they? You don’t allow it. No one is allowed to touch. No one is invited to linger. You take what you want and then you walk away, and it makes me wonder….”

“Wonder what?” she demanded, because she’d never run from a fight in her life.

“Why you’re so intent on scaring away potential suitors.”

Solveig could barely breathe. “Because I will not belong to any male.”

Marduk started toward her, but she’d had enough. The dreki inside her hissed and screamed, but while it had tolerated him pushing until this point, now it sought escape.

“I’m done here,” she snapped, shoving past him, her shoulder collecting his hard enough to spin him off-balance. “I won, Marduk. Now leave me alone.”

“Did you? I see it.” The words followed her down the stairs, where her heart was rabbiting so hard in her chest she almost felt as though she was fleeing. “I see the storm within you, Solveig. And I want to ride it.”

She couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

Never.

6

Now

MARDUK WATCHED as Solveig’s gaze raked his bedchambers.

One bed. Enormous mounds of pillows. A rug on the floor before the hearth. Two chairs, though one was piled high with his saddlebags and clearly unused.

“These are your chambers,” she said.

“Yes.”

She prowled the room like a dreki whose tail was lashing behind her. “Surely the court has more bedchambers.”

“It does.” He scrubbed at his mouth, wondering how much to say. She was an ally, but revealing any weakness to Solveig was like showing your throat to a predator. “However, you’re to stay here with me. Whatever the real nature of our agreement, in the eyes of the rest of the court we are mated. My brother feels appearances need to be kept until the mating lines are formally dissolved.”

There. That sounded plausible.

And it was true. Rurik had insisted she reside with him.

Narrowed eyes locked on him, as if Solveig could almost sense he was hiding something. “I see.”

Marduk waited for her attention to return to the bed, and sure enough, there it was.

A wintry chill settled over her expression. “Where am I sleeping?”

“In the bed.”

It was probably a good thing her dreki gifts turned more toward Air rather than Fire, because if they did, he was fairly certain he’d have been immolated on the spot.

“If you think—”

“It’s an enormous bed, Solveig. You won’t even know I’m—”

“No.” The word rang through the room but it was the tension in her shoulders that made him growl under his breath.

Damn it. She wasn’t going to back down. And he liked his bed. He’d spent more than enough years snatching sleep on the rocky surface of a cave floor or in a bedroll that smelled distinctly of horses.

All those pillows. The thick weight of his blankets, spun from the finest wool…. The mattress itself, which came the closest to imagining what it would be like to fall asleep on a cloud.

And the look on her face when she’d captured him three months ago and one of her father’s guards had sniggered about bear traps.

It had been barely a flinch, but he’d known she’d heard about the song, and the second he opened his mouth to apologize, she’d walked past him and hissed that she was going to see him dead, no matter what it cost her.

This was the cost of youthful pride.

And maybe she wouldn’t accept his apology, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t keep offering it.

“Fine.” Marduk tossed a pillow on the floor before the hearth with a sigh. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“You?” Hard eyes watched him. “The floor?”

He dragged a blanket from the bed and made a nice nest with several of the furs there. “This hard thing beneath our feet.”

“You’re not the sort of dreki male who enjoys such roughness.”

“Then take ease in the realization that I’ll spend a miserable night,” he growled.

SOLVEIG LAY AWAKE for long hours, trying to ignore the flicker of light from the slowly dying fire. The bed was the softest thing she’d ever slept in, and her wretched body yearned to succumb to sleep, but every time she relaxed, she could smell his scent in the pillows and the blankets.

It felt like being cocooned in his arms.

And worse, if she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine the brush of his silk sheets against her skin was the faintest kiss of his lips….

Damn it.

Every inch of her remained tense.

It was him.

The nearness of him. The scent. The way her dreki raged to be set free every damned time she saw him.

The way his amber eyes watched her.

She’d taken lovers in the past, but none of them had made her feel this way, and he hadn’t even touched her. She’d forgotten how intense his presence was. Given enough time, she’d even begun to think that perhaps she’d imagined it. Perhaps the way he affected her was merely a youthful… infatuation of some sort.

She hadn’t overestimated it.

It hit her with the weight of a dragon at full charge, and every inch of her was tight with horrific tension.

She was going to get no rest tonight, and she needed it if she was going to keep her wits about her. There were elves afoot and a treacherous trip ahead of them.

And she hadn’t missed the number of guards stationed within the Zini court—or the fact Marduk had been skirting the truth with the best of them when he insisted his brother had sentenced them to confined chambers.

Solveig rolled over, glaring at the recumbent figure before the fireplace.

Golden light gilded Marduk’s hair. He’d removed his shirt, and the gleam of bare skin drew her attention before she firmly looked away. She was not going to look at his bare chest. She was not.

She knew he was awake.

He knew she was awake.

This was growing ridiculous. “Go to sleep.”

“You first.”

“What’s wrong? Afraid I’m going to cut your throat while you’re vulnerable?”

“No.” He turned his head toward her. “You gave your word you wouldn’t harm me until this was done, and if there’s one thing I believe in, it’s that you would never break a promise.”

She snuggled into the sheets grumpily. There was nothing one could take affront at within that statement. “Then what’s the matter?”

He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“You would be surprised at the levels of stupidity I expect from you.”

“Fine. Just remember, you insisted.”

Solveig offered him an evil smile. “Awe me.”

He stretched, tugging at the blankets around his waist. “You smell… nice.”

“Nice?”

“Apparently, I can shock you.”

“I’m not shocked. I maintain a certain level of hygiene, and my soap is milled from….” She suddenly realized what his irritability and constant shifting of that blanket meant. “Nice?” Her voice hit new levels of depth. “If your cock is hard right now, Marduk, I will punch you.”

“Don’t take it as a personal affront. It’s been a while since I’ve felt anything but the touch of my own hand. And my brain equates the smell of you with that moment I had you beneath me. It doesn’t take much for my cock to signal its enthusiasm right now.” He snorted. “Don’t tell me you can’t smell me all over your skin? You’ve been sniffing my blankets ever since you climbed into my bed. It’s distracting.”

Stop using the words “smell me all over you” and “my bed”.

“The idea that I’m drowning in your scent is insulting. I’m trying not to think about it. You stink like cheap wine and arrogance.”

“I haven’t drunk anything in over a month. Rurik’s virtually a priest these days. And that stink is the scent of your prejudice.”

He threw his pillow at her.

Solveig captured it and dragged it into her mound, intent on hoarding it. “That was a hasty decision. You’re not getting it back, and now you’re going to spend the rest of the night suffering for it.”

“If you hold my pillow to ransom, I may have to come marauding to get it back.”

She swiftly lobbed it back at him. “For the sake of peace between our courts. I’d hate to break my word and murder you.”

“You’re so predictable,” he laughed, as he hauled his pillow back under his head and then rolled onto his side to stare at her.

There was something intensely unsettling about the look he bestowed upon her.

He’d been easier to manipulate ten years ago. A golden lion of a youth who’d been quick to smile, easy to laugh, and brash with the confidence of the truly beautiful.

There was a weight around his eyes now that stole her breath. Watchful. More thoughtful. Eyes full of questions he kept to himself, and she wished she knew the answers he was silently supplying himself with.

“Go to sleep, Marduk. I’ll most likely kill you in the morning.”

“You can try. But I daresay you’ll bide your time.” He stretched and yawned. “And I’m a little defensive when I sleep. If you come near me, sweetheart, you’d best be prepared to end up beneath me.”

“You keep saying ‘beneath me,’” she shot back. “Is that what makes you hard, Marduk? The idea of me on my back under you, begging for mercy—"

“Fuck.” He shifted again. “I was almost…. You did that on purpose.”

She gave an evil laugh.

“I swear you were put on this world to torture me.”

“Oh, Marduk.” She rolled her eyes. “I haven’t even started.”

“Two can play that game,” he warned.

“Yes, but you can’t touch unless I allow it.” Delight filled her. “Do you know, this proclamation of your brother’s actually works in my favor. I was going to make your punishment swift, but death is too kind. This suits me so much better. We have days ahead of us. Weeks. And I’m going to remind you hourly of what you can’t have. I’m going to haunt your dreams, Marduk. I’m going to get in your head and twist you around my little finger. I’m going to have you on your knees before me.”

And then she threw her head back and laughed.

Marduk growled under his breath. Frustration, thy name is dreki. It was almost enough to put a permanent smile on her lips.

“Can I ask you a question?” he finally asked.

“You can always ask. Whether I answer or not….”

“What will you do once Rurik ends our mating contract?”

Stillness slid through her. Without his heart, she couldn’t return home. And the rashness of her pledge to the goddess was beginning to impinge upon her. She’d been so angry—irrationally angry—and now she would suffer the consequences of that.

The loss of everything she loved.

Unless she killed him.

And if she killed him, then she risked starting a war.

Anger will be your undoing, my love, her mother’s voice whispered in her memories.

Solveig closed her eyes. “I will protect my court.” From afar, if necessary. “I will protect my sisters and see they live a happy life. I will murder my enemies and drink wine from their skulls….”

He laughed under his breath. “A worthy ambition. I was almost starting to think you weren’t a heartless monster until you mentioned that.”

Heartless.

Worse had been said about her, but the word struck her like an arrow sinking home. And she didn’t know why. She’d spent years building that reputation, so why did it sting when it came from his lips?

“May I ask you a question?”

He yawned sleepily. “You may ask. I may answer. I guess it’s a roll of the dice.”

Solveig stroked the soft wool of his blanket. “What is your court so afraid of?”

Stillness slid through him. “What do you mean?”

“There are guards at every point of the royal wing. Your warlord, Sirius, escorted his wife right to their door. The dragon-slayer hasn’t left your sister’s side. There are no rooms for me to sleep in because there aren’t enough guards, are there, Marduk? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think your court expected an attack. From within.”

Silence ticked out, until a spark cracked in the grate so loudly that he jumped. He cursed under his breath.

“I told Rurik you were too clever,” he grumbled.

Confirmation. Her heart skipped a beat. Her knife was under her pillow, but she’d been forced to leave her sword—and her boots—back at that inn. “What’s going on?”

“Give me your word you won’t breathe a hint of this to anyone else.”

“You have it.” Knowledge was power, and even if she was bound not to share it, she could use it to her advantage if she so chose.

“Ever since my mother died, there have been hints of Chaos workings within the court. It feels like my mother’s magic, and we found the necklace she was wearing when she died, with every emerald in it shattered. The ghostly imprint of an old spell was all over it. Ishtar has tried to track its remnants, but by the time she was brought here, the echoes of it were starting to fade.”

“But?” she asked, for his voice had trailed off as though he was trying to work out how to say the next part.

“We found the body of a dreki woman last week. She was only nineteen, but Árdís was beginning to suspect Marthe could wield Chaos. She showed signs of it. Or she did once.” His mouth twisted. “Her mother had seen her three hours before she disappeared, but when Marthe was found, it looked as though it had been years. Every inch of her was desiccated, and Árdís said she was drained of everything. Her life. Her magic. Her soul. When we set her body to the bonfires, nothing rose. She was truly gone, and her spirit will never ride the horizon with the rest of our dreki ancestors.”

Solveig slowly unleashed a breath in disbelief. “You think your mother’s haunting the court?”

“We don’t know. For our own sakes, I pray she’s not.”

Silence fell between them, but this time, she could sense their horror lingering like a shroud in the air.

According to her sources, the former queen had organized her husband’s murder before claiming his throne for herself. She’d exiled Rurik and named him the killer before he’d risen up to overthrow her.

Solveig had met Amadea several times, and each time had left her with a slightly unclean sensation afterward.

“The guards must work in pairs,” he admitted. “No one is allowed to be by themselves.”

Solveig stared at the ceiling. “How the hell am I supposed to get any sleep now?”

“The same way I am. Not at all.” Marduk sighed. “There’s only a few hours until dawn. Sweet dreams, Solveig.”

7

The following morning, they winged their way east. The rest of the official delegation would meet them tomorrow near the Zilittu court, but for now, Marduk wanted a closer look at the portal on top of World’s End.

Of course, they’d had a brief stop at the inn Solveig had been staying at, because apparently, she couldn’t go anywhere without her travel bag. And sword and boots.

He’d been hearing a lot about the boots.

Marduk landed between the enormous rune stones, spread his wings, and then pulled his magic in tight and small. A shimmering cascade of sparks broke around him, and then he was crouching on a rock, his arms spread as he shook the rain from his hair.

It felt good to fly.

They’d raced across the Norwegian Sea, with Solveig a smaller, darker version of himself. She was absolutely gorgeous in dreki form. Sleek and lethal, her black scales gleaming in the sun. At first she’d flown with steady determination toward their destination, but he’d been able to lure her into barrel rolls and sharp dives that ended with his claws skimming the waters. And the second they’d seen land, she’d challenged him to a race.

“Too slow, little princeling,” called her smoky voice as he straightened. “I’ve been here for nearly a minute.”

He caught a glimpse of Solveig between several of the enormous standing stones that marked World’s End, gloriously nude as she slipped into a shirt she’d pulled from the travel-stained bag she’d carried, and the image stopped his brain in his tracks.

It wasn’t polite to stare.

Nudity wasn’t something dreki were ever shamed by, but this moment—when they slipped into mortal skins—was typically a vulnerable one. It was the only time dreki could be easily killed, and manners insisted he look in the other direction.

It didn’t help.

He could see her painted against the back of his eyelids; a storm in mortal form. Tall, lean, her olive skin kissed by sunlight even as her thick black hair draped over her breasts. He’d caught a glimpse of the dusky tips of her nipples between threads of her silky hair, and his cock roused as he groaned under his breath.

Perfect. Fucking perfect.

Here he was in mortal form with the king of all erections, and if she saw it, she’d murder him.

“You had a head start,” he called over his shoulder.

“You’re just slow.”

Hauling his travel pack open, Marduk shoved himself into his leather trousers, wincing a little as he was forced to stuff his eager cock behind all that leather. He’d just finished buttoning himself back in when she appeared around the corner of a standing stone, wearing little more than a man’s white shirt loosely buttoned.

Torture.

The woman was trying to torture him.

Well, it’s better than murder, I guess.

“Where are your trousers?”

“I’m not bothering to get dressed. We’re going to return to the sky within minutes,” she replied, glancing up toward the watchful circling of a dreki scout. It was one of the Ikkibu watchers who was guarding the portal, though Marduk had hailed the scout when they first flew in. Solveig scowled. “Is he going to watch everything we do?”

“Most likely.”

“Well? Can you feel anything.”

Fine. He didn’t bother with his shirt.

“Ishtar opened the portal,” he murmured, circling the stones. “I can still feel it buzzing. It’s closed, I think, but it’s awake now.”

Solveig passed her hand over the stones, studiously ignoring his bare chest. “I can’t feel anything.”

“Chaos magic is like a song on the edge of hearing. I feel like I should be able to hear it—as if I closed my eyes and tilted my head just so, I’d be able to finally catch the notes of it—but I never can. I’ve spent years chasing after that song. At first I thought that maybe it was my true flame. Maybe she was out there, somewhere in the world, and I only had to find her.” A part of him had hoped, even as a tight fist squeezed around his heart. A true mate would mean a gilded cage. Surely the goddess wouldn’t tether him to a female who desired hearth and home and little dreki babies, but there was a part of him that feared she wouldn’t know his inner heart. “But I was wrong. It wasn’t my mate. It was my twin sister instead, and the second I found her, I could finally hear the song. Chaos. Pure Chaos magic. Ishtar’s magic, bound to me in the womb we shared.”

His vision came back into focus, only to find Solveig watching him with those dark eyes. “What?”

Solveig’s entire expression shuttered. “Nothing.”

She stalked around the runestone.

To the untrained eye, there was nothing about her that should have indicated her mind was anything but focused on the runes, but he could see the stiffness in her spine and the way her head tilted, as if she was listening to him—aware of his response. When Solveig turned her mind toward something, her focus was so absolute, her stare so piercing, that nothing and no one could come between her and the object within her sights.

Marduk prowled after her. “Oh no, that wasn’t nothing.”

What had set her off?

He’d been talking about Chaos, and the song, and how he’d hoped….

My mate.

The other half of my soul.

There it was.

He crossed his arms over his chest. Legally, they were bound as mates within the eyes of the dreki world until one or the other of them cast the tie asunder.

He had no reason to suspect it was jealousy—unless she suspected someone else might have a claim on his heart, when she wanted to rip it from his chest and crush it to a bloodied pulp—but he’d never considered her side of things.

What if there was another male out there whom the goddess intended for Solveig?

Marduk’s stomach lurched into freefall. “Have you ever felt the mating call?”

Solveig’s fingertips slowly trailed to a halt. “Me?”

Marduk winced. Males knew first. Always. And while his original rendition of the song about her had said nothing of her being mateless—only heartless—he knew it had grown in the telling.

War came into her face. Rage.

Marduk held up his hands in surrender. “I was asking a question, Solveig. Not intending to demean you. Just a question.”

“No,” she said in a tone that indicated the question ought to die a swift death. “I have no intentions of truly mating with anyone.”

That made his eyebrows rise.

Theirs was a political match, but there were all sorts of levels of bonding. Some dreki mated in order to breed. Some mated in order to elevate themselves or secure peace.

And a very few embraced the firestorm of true mateship—their souls and spirits entwined until the bond between them was breakable only by death.

“I thought most dreki hoped for the possibility of finding the other half of their soul?”

“I am not most dreki.”

Clearly.

He followed her as she prowled through the runestones. “Then what do you dream of? Aside from crafting a throne with the skulls of your enemies?”

“My father will not live forever. And my clan bloodlines have always ruled the south of Norway. I intend to sit on his throne after him and rule our gilded halls. Siv or Aslaug can produce heirs.”

It wasn’t unknown for females to rule—after all, both his mother and Sirius’s mother had named themselves queens—but it was more common for a male to seek power. Male dreki were generally bigger and more brutal, and when thrones were often won through sheer brute force, they had more of a chance of keeping them. The females who did claim thrones were often ruthless to the point of murderous.

Solveig could do it.

He had little doubt about that. There was such a presence about her that when she stalked into a throne room, even male dreki warriors knelt before they realized what they were doing.

“Don’t think I can do it?” she asked.

“That wasn’t what I was thinking at all. I was thinking that when it comes to you, a dreki would underestimate you at his own cost. You’re cunning. Ruthless. Powerful. Intelligent.” His lips quirked, almost fondly. “There is no one more suited to lead the Sadu in your father’s place than you.”

Solveig trailed her fingers down the stone. There was no hint of emotion in her dark eyes, but he thought perhaps he’d assuaged her anger.

Marduk rested one hand against the other side of the stone, staring down into her eyes. When she wore her heeled boots, she could look him in the eye, but now, with her bare feet tramping through the ruins, he had three inches on her.

He didn’t know what it was about those bare feet that drew his eye.

Again, maybe a hint of vulnerability.

The stone walls she kept around her chafed at him a little. He wanted to see inside. He wanted to know her.

It had always been his downfall when it came to her.

“Why are you staring at me?” she whispered. “What sort of game do you have in mind right now?”

“Why do you always presume I’m playing games?”

“It’s what you do, Marduk.”

He met her gaze. “Perhaps I was staring at you because I like to look at you.”

Suddenly, she was a deer catching scent of the hunter. “If you use the word ‘beautiful’ I will know you’re lying—”

“You are beautiful.”

“I am most distinctly not. And the least interesting thing about me is my appearance.”

He leaned closer. “What is beauty? You are savage and wild and untamable, and I’ve never wanted to touch a woman more in my life. You have the eyes of a falcon, so dark and bottomless. I love your eyes. I love the predatory look in them. I love the way you focus on something as if the world around that object ceases to exist.” He couldn’t help himself. He reached up and touched her lips, so softly it might have been more of an intention of a caress than an actual caress. “Your hair is like silk. It’s so straight and dark, and I want to bury my fists in it and rub my face against it. I want to breathe you in, like some mountain wind I can never catch. And your lips….” He did graze his fingers against them then. “Your lips are forbidden. They are temptation. They are torture, because I’ve had them on my skin once, but there’s the possibility I never will again. You are beautiful, Solveig, because you are unlike any other woman I’ve ever met.”

She blinked at him in shock. Just a moment of the real Solveig before her walls came crashing down. In an instant she was ice again. But he’d seen the heat. He’d seen a glimpse of a young woman, surprised to find herself desirable—and not merely for her body, but for all the qualities that made her what she was.

His breath caught. Was it vulnerability that insisted she keep those stone walls in place?

“I see,” she said slowly. “You want what you can’t have.”

I want you.

I’ve always wanted you.

But he didn’t say it, because she would not hear him. Only what she wanted to hear.

“I’ve always wanted what I can’t have. But you mistake me if you think that’s the reason I can’t look away from you.”

And then he pushed away from the stone and turned to survey the trampled grass within the center of the henge. This was madness. He didn’t even know why he was bothering to… what? Charm her?

It was as if some part of him couldn’t resist her challenge.

“There’s no sign the gates have been opened again.” The familiar buzzing of the portal set his teeth on edge, but its song hadn’t changed from the night they fought to rescue Ishtar from her pursuers. “We have to assume those elves we ran afoul of in Iceland were Tyndyr and his little cohort.”

Soft footsteps stalked him. “One task checked off our list then. Gate is currently closed, and your watchers are in place.”

“As promised,” he pointed out.

“I wanted to see it for my own eyes.”She stared wistfully to the south.

He followed her gaze toward the mountains. “We’re not far from your home. And we need to take shelter tonight. If you wanted—”

“No.” Instantly, she was steel again. “Duty first. We head north.” Solveig glanced toward the darkening sky. “And we’d best leave now, before that storm hits, or else we’re going to have to take shelter somewhere along the way, and the others will be waiting for us at the edge of Zilittu territory.”

Marduk let his hands drop to his trousers, though he paused there. “You, me, and a little hunting cabin in the hills? Sounds like fun. Just remember… I did offer to let you stay in your own bed.”

“Really?” She offered him a sweet smile as she started undoing the buttons down the middle of her shirt. It gaped open, revealing a slash of olive skin all the way to her navel. “It sounds like you’ll have a cold ass, because you’ll be on the floor, Marduk.”

He sighed and turned around. “I should never have told you I was attracted to you.”

A smoky laugh assailed him from behind. “Oh, I knew you were attracted to me. And this isn’t torture, Marduk. Not yet. I told you… I haven’t even started.”

Her shirt hit him in the middle of the back, and then heat spilled over him from behind as she shifted into the sleek, scaled beast.

Marduk caught her shirt before it hit the ground and lifted it to his face. It smelled like her.

And he was hard again, a fact he was fairly certain she was aware of, considering the evil dreki-like smile she bestowed upon him before she took to the skies.

8

Then

MARDUK BROKE the surface of the river, flinging his head back and raking water from his eyes as he strode toward shore. The mountain stream was bitterly cold. He’d found it on one of his solitary hikes, and since then, whenever the air at Harald’s court became too choking, he slipped away to find some peace.

He needed it today, more than ever.

“Three days,” Harald had said last night. “I have been patient, Your Highness, but no longer. I will have your answer by the morning of the third day. Choose, Marduk.”

And then he’d pushed away from the table, leaving Marduk to get thoroughly, absolutely drunk by himself.

Choose.

Marduk closed his eyes. He felt like he had a noose around his neck. There was no more putting this off, no way to avoid the jaws of his mother’s trap.

Aslaug had approached him last night and made it perfectly clear she’d be receptive to his advances. He’d tried to insist she deserved better than someone like him, and while he thought she might have understood, she’d cried a little.

He hated making women cry.

But no matter where he looked, his options for escape were narrowing.

“What the hell are you doing?” an angry voice cut through his distraction.

Mother goddess. “Solveig?”

What was she doing here?

She’d been avoiding him all week.

Marduk’s heart skipped a beat, but the look on her face wasn’t that of a woman who’d finally sought him out. No, she looked furious. He ducked beneath the water.

Slinging her leg over the back of her horse, she dismounted. “Zilittu warriors were seen in our skies. Nobody was supposed to leave the court. My father’s had half the guards out all morning, searching for you. How selfish can you be? I was starting to think you might have been taken prisoner.”

In Iceland, he was free to come and go as he pleased. “The guards saw me leave.”

“Exactly. Otherwise, my father’s dreki would be turning the castle inside out. What were you thinking?” Anger smoldered on her brow like a thundercloud. “No, you weren’t thinking. Clearly. You didn’t give a damn about anyone else and whether they had matters to attend to this morning.”

He skimmed his fingers over the water, grateful it cleared his navel. Nakedness rarely bothered him—particularly when there was a kissable woman in front of him—but for some reason he felt a little vulnerable when it came to her.

Maybe it was the look in her eyes that said if she had a knife in hand she’d use it.

Or maybe it was the fact that despite her chilly rebuffs, he couldn’t help the yearning feeling in his chest when he looked at her.

“The guards saw me go,” he repeated loudly and clearly. “The same way I’ve been coming and going for the last two weeks. Nobody has even mentioned that such things aren’t done in your court.” Ah, but then Harald has just given me an ultimatum, hasn’t he? Marduk breathed a soft laugh as he realized exactly what the canny old bastard was up to. “Did he send you this way?”

“What? Who?”

“Your father. Did he send you to search for me up here?”

Solveig’s eyes narrowed as she tied her horse to a birch. “I know the northern passes of the mountains better than anyone. Of course he sent me.”

“Alone? With all these Zilittu in the skies?”

Something about her expression told him she was starting to wonder herself. “The Zilittu wouldn’t dare touch me. I’d tear them from the skies.”

He’d seen her abilities in wielding Air.

She’d been lobbing boulders into the mountains one morning in a display he was fairly certain was for his sake. She hadn’t missed her target once.

“But he thinks I can’t defend myself?” No. Marduk shook his head. “You’ve been played, Princess.” He started wading toward the shore. “By your own father.” And so had he, by the sound of it. If he’d run—which Harald clearly thought was likely—all those Sadu dreki would be searching for him. If he hadn’t run and was merely taking his usual swim, then Solveig was bound to stumble across him. What’s the bet that no Zilittu has even been seen? “Now close your eyes or you’re going to get an eyeful of what the goddess gave me.”

Solveig crossed her arms over her chest and deliberately met his gaze as if to say she wasn’t concerned in the slightest. “She had to gift you with something. Your brother clearly got the lion’s share of the Zini intelligence.”

His smile turned thin as he cleared the water. Fine, then. Look all you like. “My brother is hibernating in a bloody cave somewhere, so no, I don’t think he’s the smart one.”

“What’s wrong?” Her eyes narrowed as if she sensed a weakness. “Jealous?”

“Of Rurik?” He snatched at his towel and dried his face. “Hardly.”

“Then why—?”

A growl escaped him. “Is there a reason you’re obsessing over my brother?” He lowered the towel and wrapped it around his waist. “He murdered my father, so I don’t want to talk about him. If Rurik was such a clever bastard, then he wouldn’t have been caught kneeling over my father’s body with his blood all over his hands, would he? If he was innocent then he would have stayed, instead of tucking tail and running. He would have fought those accusations.” Marduk shook his head. “Though what was the point? What is it the Scots say? Guilty are those that are caught red-handed?”

Solveig’s silence held a weight of condemnation, and he realized he’d almost been shouting there, at the end.

Loki’s ass, he could see the judgement in her eyes.

“What?” he demanded furiously.

Solveig picked his shirt up, and instead of throwing it at him—which he’d expected—she crossed toward him. “It’s just… my father doesn’t think your brother killed the king.”

Of all the things he’d expected her to say…. Marduk stared at her. “There was blood all over his hands…. There were witnesses—”

“We know. We heard. Your mother’s loyal subjects all swore that Rurik was the last one seen in your father’s chambers.” She nibbled on her lower lip. “My father was friends with yours. He never did trust your mother.”

Marduk froze.

He’d been young when it happened.

All he could remember was the rush of guards’ feet on the tiled floors of the court; his mother screaming at his uncle Stellan that they needed to find Rurik and take him into custody; and blood soaking into the rugs in his father’s room when he’d finally stolen in there when no one was looking, desperate for answers.

He’d only found his mother, staring down at that rug with her hands clasped over her mouth.

The sight of all that blood had transfixed him.

It didn’t feel real…. It couldn’t be all that was left of his beloved father. He’d started choking on the sensation crawling up his throat and that was when his mother noticed him.

“Get him out of here,” she’d snarled, as Niels hauled him out of the room. “I don’t want him to see this.”

Only later, after hours locked in his room, his breath catching in small increments at every sound, had she sent Stellan to formally inform him that his father was dead.

“Murdered,” Stellan had said coldly. “By your brother.”

It wasn’t possible.

Rurik loved their father, and Marduk adored the both of them.

But Rurik was gone.

The world had fallen in on him in that moment. He’d wanted to see Árdís, but the princess was “being protected.” They were both being protected, because who knew what plans Rurik held in his deceitful heart?

And he waited.

A thousand nights he’d waited, staring at the stars, certain that Rurik would return for him to tell him the truth….

But he never came.

And Marduk was forced to accept that his brother—the hero he’d spent the first half of his life worshipping—was no hero at all, but a patricide.

“What did you say?” he whispered to Solveig.

And she repeated the words, but the ones that stayed with him were those last few.

“He never did trust your mother.”

My mother, the Zilittu princess who now rules my father’s court.

Doubt speared through his heart. No. No, he’d been down this route before. He’d conjured a million excuses for Rurik. He’d spent years searching for the truth, only to realize Rurik’s continued absence was its own guilty verdict.

But his mother was a cold, vicious bitch who allowed nothing to stand in her way.

“Come on.” There was the tiniest hint of sympathy in her voice. “Get dressed. There’s supposed to be a dinner tonight, and you’re the guest of honor. Aslaug’s spent hours fixing her hair.”

Stab. Stab. Her words were like knives and he had little defense right now.

He shook away the doubt. He wasn’t going to do this to himself again. Hope was the cruelest bitch of all, and he had other matters to attend to. Namely… “I haven’t made my choice yet.”

“She’s the only one who wants you.”

Stab again. Right through the heart.

And maybe his thwarted anger got the better of him. “Isn’t it a little awkward that you’re standing here while I’m half-naked? What would your sister think? The one everyone wants me to mate with?”

Finally a reaction. Hot circles bloomed in her cheeks. “Yours isn’t the first cock I’ve ever seen, little prince.”

“Little?”

She gave him an evil smile. “I’ll be generous enough to admit the stream’s cold this time of year.”

Marduk paused with his shirt halfway over his head. “Not half as cold as your heart.”

“Oh, haven’t you heard?” She turned and started to saunter toward her horse. “I haven’t got one.”

His gaze dropped to her ass. Every inch of her was lean, sculpted muscle, with barely a curve in sight, but she wore the tightest leather breeches, and curse him if he hadn’t noticed. “I’ve heard. Everyone has heard.”

But she hadn’t been cold the morning they dueled. No, she’d been liquid lightning in his arms.

And she’d nearly let him kiss her.

Everything came to a head within him. Maybe this was part of his problem? Everyone—including the princess stalking toward her horse—was pushing him at the youngest sister.

But he didn’t want Aslaug.

And he was fairly certain Aslaug didn’t particularly wish for him to choose her, not in her heart of hearts. She just wanted escape too.

“Did you say the river was cold?” he mused, tossing his shirt aside and striding after her.

Solveig shot a dismissive look over her shoulder. “Maybe I was being polite.” Then her eyes widened and she spun around. “What are you doing?”

He’d seen her lash out before, and didn’t give her a chance. Instead he hauled her up over his shoulder. “What does it look like?”

“Marduk!” Solveig clutched at his shoulders. “Put me down, you idiot!”

He started back toward the river, and that was when she started to realize he wasn’t merely playing. She went wild. Hammering at his back. Kicking at him. Threatening to bite him.

“I thought you wanted to test the water,” he said before he simply tossed her in. Solveig slammed into the river. She came up sputtering, her hair running in wet rivulets down her face as she held her arms out, her shirt clinging to her skin.

Water dripped down her figure.

The expression on her face was nine parts shock and one part fury, though he had the suspicion that was going to change.

Marduk leaned against a tree. “My apologies. I thought you might have wanted a bath before my special dinner tonight.”

“Dinner?”

He couldn’t help himself. “The one where you’re going to throw your sister into my lap and try to ignore the fact you nearly let me kiss you the other day.”

“Kiss you?”

“Yes.” He ripped the towel away and started into the water. “Kissed me. You thought about it, Solveig. Your gaze dropped to my lips, and the look in your eyes wasn’t cold. Not at all. You want to know why? Because I’m not scared of you or your ice.” He was knee deep in the water, wading toward her. “And that’s what you want, deep down inside. You want someone who’s going to fight for you. You want someone who’s not afraid to toss you over his shoulder and make you see sense.”

“I don’t want to be mated!” she yelled.

“Neither do I!” he yelled back. “But if I’m going to be forced into this, then you—”

“Don’t you dare say it!”

She hooked a boot behind his ankle and he went down with a crash, slamming into the water.

And then she was on him.

Solveig grabbed for him, tangling her fist in his hair. She rose above him in the water, clearly intending to shove his head under.

The problem was that the weight imbalance between them worked in his favor. He clasped his arms around her waist and surged upright, intending to prove how useless the endeavor was.

Except, all of a sudden he found himself with an armful of wet, writhing female, and her white cotton shirt clung to her like a second skin. The dusky tips of her nipples showed through it, and one of her buttons had torn loose.

And they were right in his face.

“Jesus.” He trapped her in his arms, and then they were face-to-face.

“What’s wrong, Marduk?” Every inch of her tone was scorn, but he could taste her breath on his lips. “Surely, you’ve seen breasts before.”

“Not yours.”

“Never mine.”

“Mmm.” He didn’t let her go, as he sank halfway beneath the water. “You’re the one with your arms around my neck.”

“All the better to throttle you with.”

She didn’t move.

Neither did he.

Marduk’s gaze dropped to her mouth. This was the most destructive idea he’d ever had, but he could feel every inch of her lean form draped over him.

“What are you doing?” she demanded breathlessly.

“What does it look like?” he growled, capturing her chin and leaning down to consume her. “I plan on finishing what we started the other day. I plan on kissing you.”

SOLVEIG FROZE as Marduk’s lips inched toward hers.

She’d been kissed before. She was no trembling virgin—she’d taken care of that at the age of seventeen with the son of one of her father’s allies. It wasn’t until the morning after, as she tried to extricate herself from his bed—whilst he professed his undying fervor—that she realized future bedmates needed to be chosen carefully.

No ties.

No clingy, very-protective males.

Female lovers were always far easier to contend with.

But this was the first time she’d allowed a male to make this decision. Unless she was feeling a particular itch, she generally ignored them, and they stayed away.

Aslaug was the one who—

Aslaug.

Solveig shoved her hand between them, her finger pressing into his lips just before they met hers completely. Her heart erupted in a sudden drumming.

“Don’t you dare,” she told him breathlessly. “You’re mating with one of my sisters.”

His eyes met hers. “We both know I’m not mating with either Aslaug or Siv.”

Solveig sucked in a sharp breath. “Well, my sister thinks you are going to choose her!”

“I never, ever gave her a hint I was inclined toward her.”

“Then what about last night? You had your arms around her. I saw you. I saw the both of you.”

He drew back. “She was upset—"

Solveig had a knife in her hand before she knew it. “You will break her heart and I will not let that—”

“I don’t intend to break her heart. I’ve promised her nothing—”

Solveig shoved away from him with a hiss. “Of course you haven’t. A male like you suggests everything and promises nothing, and you’re never the one who wears the catastrophe of your actions. All you do is take what you want, damn the world. Did you ever consider my sister? Did you ever think of how seeing us like this would hurt her?”

“Wait a moment.” Anger painted itself across his face. “I haven’t done anything of the sort. Your sister is kind and a little… intense, but all we’ve done is dine together, and she took me on a walk through the court, showing me the paintings of your ancestors. I haven’t tried to kiss her. I haven’t given her a single hint I’m even thinking of choosing her, and I certainly haven’t—”

“Well, she thinks you are.” Solveig turned and strode from the river. She could barely breathe. Her hand curled around the knife she held. This was all going wrong. Why? Why?

“Do I get any choice in this matter?” Marduk stalked after her, water streaming down his body.

His very naked body.

Despite herself, she stepped back.

As her back hit the tree, he rested one hand on the bark beside her head and leaned closer. “Because I can assure you that the only princess who’s captured my attention is the one in front of me. Even if she looks like she wants to cut my throat.”

“Don’t tempt me. And no. The answer is no.” All she could see was Aslaug’s face tear-stained and ruddy. What was wrong with him? Why was he pursuing her? “Stop flirting with me. I’m not interested.”

“Stop lying to me,” Marduk said, capturing her chin in his hand. “Because your mouth is saying one thing, and your eyes another. You were about to kiss me back; I know you were.”

“I was never going to kiss you,” she hissed. Her knife met his heart.

He looked down, but when their eyes met again there was heat there. And anger. “Kiss me. Kiss me and prove there’s nothing between us.”

“No!”

Because she wasn’t sure if kissing him would prove anything at all beyond her vulnerability to him.

Rage enveloped her. Rage and violence and a mess of raw lust.

It happened before she even knew what was going on.

The knife was in her hand.

And then she stabbed it low, aiming for his hip. Instead, it drove into his thigh.

Marduk staggered backward, taking the knife with him.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”he yelled, as he clapped a hand around her blade.

“Stay away from me,” she hissed. “Don’t… don’t touch me. Just go, Marduk. Crawl off into a cave somewhere and die.”

Solveig darted toward her horse, hauling herself up into the saddle. She urged her gelding into a gallop, putting a quarter mile of distance between them before she finally eased up.

What was wrong with her?

Holding her hands out, she stared at them.

They were covered in blood.

And they were shaking.

MARDUK STARED MOODILY into his ale as the tavern bustled around him. The bleeding had stopped, but he wasn’t entirely certain the wound was healing.

He’d told Niels that he was done with this farce.

There wasn’t going to be a mating ceremony, and if his mother pushed for it, then she could mate with one of the damned princesses herself.

His mother.

His ears were still ringing after she’d contacted him through the flames in his hearth.

But that wasn’t what set the hairs along his spine on edge.

“He never did trust your mother.”

What if… Rurik was innocent?

He barely even dared breathe the thought. But there was a horrible, knotted feeling inside him.

He fled. Why would Rurik flee if he was innocent?

He’s never once tried to contact you, to see how you felt about it all—

And if Rurik was innocent, then… that meant his father’s killer had been by his side all his life, purring in his ear about how Marduk wouldn’t be as treacherous as his brother was, would he?

Every inch of him felt battered and bruised—from his pride, to his thigh, and the hollow ache within his heart.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Why had she said it?

“What’s wrong, Your Highness?” A hand clapped on his shoulder, and then one of the Sadu clan warriors straddled the bench beside him. Erik, he thought. “You look like you’ve seen the inside of a storm.”

“Not the inside, no. Maybe the storm’s teeth.”

“I smell blood.”

Well…. “Your princess stabbed me.”

“Oh, that one.” Erik laughed. “Aye, she’ll tear your throat out if you look at her sideways. Best you look at one of the others.”

“Damned if I do,” he muttered, and swayed a little bit. “If I look at one of the others, she’ll cut my throat for daring to break her sister’s heart. If I glance her way, then she castrates me for even thinking of taking her to bed.”

Erik shuddered. “Perhaps better to lose your balls than to allow them anywhere near her.”

“Like sticking your cock in a bear trap,” he muttered.

“Exactly! Here, drink up, friend!” Erik lifted his hand and called for another round. “Torin! Axel! Come and join us. My friend here needs to drown his woes. He’s run afoul of our sweet lady of knives.”

He really ought to return to the court and see to his wound, but a foaming tankard of ale was plonked in front of him, and, well, curse it. Drowning his sorrows seemed to be the perfect way to end this day.

Because a part of him didn’t want to be alone right now.

MARDUK STAGGERED out of the tavern, the sound of a dozen bearded dreki warriors singing at the top of their lungs behind him.

Something about baiting the bear and trying to subdue it before it ripped your throat out. Or your cock off. He couldn’t remember.

Hell of a night.

There was blood on his breeches, wet and sticky.

Marduk laughed as he ran a finger through it. “Stuck me good.” He swayed sideways and fetched up against a fence. “Beg pardon.”

The fence did not answer as he pushed himself off it.

It felt as though there was a noose around his neck.

“It’s not as though I was given a choice,” he muttered under his breath, ducking into an alley in search of a place to piss. “Did anyone ask me whether I wanted to ’gree to this?”

Why was he even lingering?

The longer he stayed, the more tangled this web around him became.

But where the hell are you going to go?

The Zini court wasn’t an answer.

Even thinking about returning home made the breath catch in his throat. He’d leaped at the chance to take this trip simply because it got him out of there. And now he was here, with no constant nightmares hauling him out of sleep, he’d begun to think that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

But he couldn’t stay here.

Goddess’s breath, what a mess. Marduk limped down a street to the right, then blinked at the sign. Where was he?

Well, fuck. He was probably drunk enough to have gotten well and truly lost.

Staggering sideways, he tripped on a snarl of ivy and landed on his ass, which was so laughable he simply lay back in the ivy and stared at the stars. What an utterly, miserable, wretched day. The only relief was that tomorrow could not possibly be as bad as this, despite the promise of a hell of a thumping head and—

“He went down this way” came a whisper-soft voice.

Marduk froze in his patch of ivy, because he hadn’t, until this moment, been aware that he wasn’t alone.

“Make it swift,” another voice murmured. “I’ll keep watch. The Sadu clan patrol these streets at night, and we can’t afford to have this witnessed. Make sure you leave the princess’s knife somewhere nearby with Marduk’s blood all over it.”

Every hair on his body rose. It was a baffling moment where his ale-befuddled brain provided a menacing sort of Shakespearean underplay to the night, despite the instant recognition of the speaker’s voice.

Niels.

That was Niels’s voice. Friendly, affable, always polite Niels who would never—

“This isn’t my first assassination,” the first voice muttered.

Drunkenness sloughed off Marduk in a prickling wave of ice. It was real. His brain wasn’t leaping to nonsensical conclusions. He crouched and slowly gained his feet, still a little unsteady, but the rush of blood in his veins sharpened the world around him.

A shadow moved past him, and Marduk realized he could hear someone singing ahead of him. They sounded young and drunk, and as the assassin slipped down the street in that direction, he could scarcely believe his luck.

The bastard had walked right by him.

He tried to make sense of it all.

Niels was trying to have him killed, and they were going to try to frame one of the princesses.

He had a good idea which one it would be too.

And after that rousing little rendition in the tavern, they’d have enough cause to lay this at Harald’s feet.

But why?

Why would Niels want to kill him?

He doesn’t, you idiot. He’s just following orders.

“No,” he breathed, his heart pounding out of control as realization chased its way through him.

Niels had no reason to see him dead, but there was someone else who wanted no competition at court.

It all fell into place.

He came of age next month, which meant he’d be old enough for the court to start pushing duties on him. His mother had agreed to be regent until then, but… he knew she liked power.

She’d kept him as far away from the throne as she could, and he wasn’t stupid enough to miss the fact that she’d managed to isolate him from the court. Maybe he’d been foolish enough as a young man—go hunting, Marduk; why don’t you take a trip to the coast; been in the taverns again with those human girls?—but in the last year his eyes had slowly begun to open.

His mother had done everything she could to push him away.

She’d surrounded him with court-approved dreki youths who dragged him to taverns and challenged him to fly through the glaciers at breakneck speed. She’d insisted he have a private tutor instead of joining the communal classes because he was “special.” And he’d often return to his rooms and find a buxom drekling woman in his bed.

It wasn’t until he’d caught Niels slipping one of those girls a set of coins in a darkened hallway of the court that he’d finally understood.

His mother wanted him drunk and distracted.

She wanted to paint him as a wastrel whose head turned every time a pretty young woman came into view.

She wanted him to be controlled.

He’d fought back by refusing to join his so-called friends. He’d showed up one day in council, shocking his mother and uncle when he insisted he ought to learn the court’s ways if he was going to rule it. And the next time a woman appeared in his bed, he’d politely held out her dress until she left.

“Tell my mother I am not interested in paid company.”

“You walked right into her trap,” he muttered as he hauled himself up onto a window ledge and then scaled the house to reach the roof.

It took more effort than needed—a sure sign of his level of inebriation. Or maybe it was the shock of betrayal. His hands shook. He swore his heart was skipping beats.

All he could see was his father’s blood on the floor, and there was a roaring sound in his ears as he heard Solveig’s words replay themselves, again and again…. “He never did trust your mother.”

What was he going to do?

King Harald was his mother’s ally. If he went to him for help, then he was either asking the king to risk an alliance—or trapping himself forever with one of Harald’s daughters.

Solveig had told him to crawl off into a cave somewhere and die.

And Árdís was the only link at court that meant anything to him.

Marduk looked to the sky. His mother wanted him gone?

Then fine.

He’d vanish into the winds and never come back.

9

Now

THEY ARRIVED deep in the heart of Zilittu territory—far to the north of Norway—just as the sun reached its zenith.

The rest of the Zini delegation was waiting for them. Solveig circled lazily as Marduk suddenly swooped down toward his family. Truth be told, when it came to taking wing, she might not be able to match him. His aerial acrobatics showed a dreki who’d spent many hours pushing himself to the limit in the skies.

Marduk was… playful in the air. Always circling her. Always trying to nip at her tail or tempt her into plunging through clouds. And part of the reason they were late was because she hadn’t been able to resist chasing him.

Her dreki might despise the thought of being controlled by a male, but his playfulness was softening even her dreki’s rage-filled heart.

Solveig landed much more gracefully and shifted into mortal form. The others were in various states of dress, so they couldn’t have been here too long.

“Well met,” Marduk called, hauling Árdís toward him for a hug as Solveig swiftly buckled herself into her leathers. He clasped hands with Ishtar, pressing a light kiss to her cheek. “You look well.”

The next in line was Sirius Blackfrost, and as Marduk laughingly turned toward him, she noticed both males drew up short.

There would be no hugging the Blackfrost, by the look of it.

“You’re late,” the enormous dreki warlord sneered.

“I’m never late,” Marduk replied. “I always arrive precisely when I mean to arrive. Haakon!” He moved on. “Let me help you with the packs.”

Solveig’s knife hand itched. The Blackfrost was the terror of the north, and no dreki clan felt comfortable when he was in the skies. He could freeze a dreki’s heart in their chest with a mere thought, and she’d heard tales of how he slaughtered one of the marauding German clans by the dozen.

He’d been flying under the Zilittu banners back then, which was interesting. Granted, his father had come from Zilittu, but where did his allegiances truly lie?

“I promise he won’t eat anyone,” said a soft voice at her side. Malin. The Blackfrost’s wife. The pretty redhead had once been drekling—half-dreki, half-human—until she’d finally proven that she had enough magic within her to make the shift to dreki form.

“What?”

“The way you were staring at my mate….” Malin offered a faint smile. “You looked like a cat who was sizing up a large, ferocious dog. He won’t hurt anyone. I promise.”

“I swear you’ve been spending too much time with Freyja,” Árdís said irritably, hauling her extravagance of blonde hair over her shoulder and absently braiding it as she stared around her at the mountains. “I believe this one time you’ve gotten your analogies wrong. She was looking at him like a wolf eyeing a lion.” Árdís offered a smile to Solveig. “Malin’s right. She’s practically leashed him. Sirius is almost tame now. Like one of those little yapping dogs that the human ladies in London carry around with them.”

Solveig wasn’t sure what to make of the entire situation. The females of the party seemed to be trying to… take her under their wing?

“A yapping dog?” The Blackfrost looked affronted.

“You should put a bow in his hair, Malin,” Árdís continued, grinning at him. “He’d look so pretty with a bow.”

The look the Blackfrost gave his wife was a long-suffering one. “I’m trying to remember why you insisted that we save her.”

Malin’s smile slid off her face as the last two members of their party joined them, and Solveig realized that both Árdís and the Blackfrost had been bantering back and forth partly to settle his wife’s tension.

Andri was the Blackfrost’s younger brother, though you’d never know it to look at him. The gorgeous dreki youth was in his late forties, according to her intelligence, with thick black curls, tanned skin, and eyes the color of a field of lavender. He wouldn’t reach full maturity for another twenty or so human years, but there was something ancient about the look in his eyes, as if he’d seen enough hardship to make him older than he was.

But it was the woman at his side—Malin’s younger sister, Elin—who seemed to be creating the tension in Malin’s shoulders.

Solveig had become a master at reading body language.

Some argument dwelled between the two of them, and the way Elin clutched the book in her arms and stared at the mountains, pointedly ignoring her sister, argued for a cutting one.

“Good flight?” the Blackfrost asked.

Andri ran a hand through his hair. “My wings are fully healed. I carried Elin’s weight with no issues.”

Ah. Elin was drekling then, unable to shift. Maybe this was at the heart of the two sisters’ separation, for Malin had only recently proved she could shift shape.

“It’s so beautiful here,” Árdís said, changing the conversation abruptly.

Sharp granite cliffs strove through enormous billows of mist that cloaked the valley floor.

“You were expecting otherwise?” Solveig asked.

Árdís gave her a mysterious smile. “My mother was Zilittu, and there are all kinds of tales of her people. There’s an abundance of Chaos-wielders within the clan, and some say that in their pursuit of power they turned to the darker aspects of such magic. So no, I was expecting eerie forests and human bones hanging in the trees as warning. Not… this.”

“They’re still not to be trusted,” Marduk said as he rejoined them, fully clothed. Somehow, despite the way he looked like he’d just tumbled from bed, he always seemed to have a regal air about him.

Or maybe that was just arrogance.

“Perhaps.” Árdís examined the forest around them a little wistfully. “Though I’ve always wondered what it would have been like to have been trained in my magic. They revere Chaos-wielders here.” Emotion darkened her face. “They don’t lock them away and try and smother their talents.”

Interesting.

The former queen had not been kind to any of her children she suspected.

And it struck her then, that both Árdís and Marduk masked themselves with charm. She’d been so focused on Marduk’s careless smiles that she hadn’t realized there was pain in his eyes sometimes too.

She hadn’t wanted to see it—she who watched and gauged an enemy for weakness.

A troubling thought….

“Zilittu means ‘spirit of the mist,’ while Zini is ‘spirit of the wind.’” Marduk continued, and there was a hint of the warrior in his stance as he surveyed the valley. “The court’s been impenetrable for years, though rumor has it that when Draco overthrew his father, the king, he started breaking several of its long-running traditions. A merchant in Kristiania said the new king is insistent upon dragging the Zilittu kicking and screaming into the future.”

“Merchant?” It hadn’t escaped her notice that he seemed to have a collection of… interesting friends around the world.

The devil had a smile like that. “Technically, he sells things. I just didn’t say how he came about them.”

A smuggler in Morocco. A black-market trader in Kristiania.

And always a “friend” who seemed to know some sort of information she—with all her legal avenues of information traders—couldn’t seem to get her hands upon.

“Just what was it you spent ten years doing?” she asked.

Árdís suddenly looked very interested.

“A little of this, and a little of that.” Marduk shrugged uncomfortably. “I can fight if need be—Father’s arms tutor saw to that—but I’m better with my tongue.”

She had the sudden impression of his mouth moving over hers as he pinned her to the floor of her bedchambers that one time….

“Not like that, Solveig,” he purred, as if he could read her thoughts. “I meant I’m good at talking to people and making friends, though I am excellent at using my mouth for other purposes.”

“I keep hearing about this wicked mouth and its skill,” she replied sweetly. “Though I often find when one spends so much time enhancing one’s own abilities, it’s often just… talk.”

“Anytime you want to test my claims—”

“No!” Árdís said, holding up her hands. “You two will have a room to yourselves tonight. You can test such things there. I don’t need to hear about it.”

Solveig had been so caught in the intensity of his stare that she’d almost forgotten the princess was there. “He’s not testing anything except for the calluses on his own hand.”

“No, no, no, no, no!” Árdís plugged her fingers in her ears. “This is my brother, I am not even entertaining such notions. That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Oh, please.” Frustration momentarily turned Marduk into Solveig’s ally. “You drag Haakon into every secluded nook at court. I nearly walked into the both of you the other day.”

Árdís smiled a toothy smile at him and waggled her fingers as in, I-can’t-hear-you.

“Silence,” the Blackfrost snapped as he peered intently into the mist. “They’re coming.”

Solveig ground her teeth together. It was something she should have been aware of. Marduk distracted her. Always.

She set her hand to the hilt of her sword. The wind whispered through the mist, stirring little eddies within it.

“I can’t see anything,” Árdís grumbled.

“You never were much of a hunter,” her husband muttered, stepping between her and the mist, his hand dropping to his sword. “They’re there. Watching us.”

And then a series of dark shadows appeared within the fog.

Nine enormous warriors, clad in leather armor and armed to the teeth as they strode toward them.

The precise number of their own party, which had to be deliberate.

Dreki courtesies were intricate at best. Tradition dictated that guests must both take and be met in mortal form in order to avoid draconian clashes. In their dreki forms, with full mastery over the elements, such a meeting risked setting off storms that would ruin the entire coast.

A tall woman appeared in the lead, gowned in a chartreuse silk that set off her dark skin. A heavy fur cloak obscured most of the gown and her black hair was braided into a coronet with little gold chains woven through each braid. Intricate, elegant, and effortless, by the look of her. Aslaug would have died of jealousy.

This must be the Ethiopian princess.

“I am Andromeda of the Zilittu clan,” the tall woman announced. “And we have been awaiting you.”

Árdís inclined her head. “I am Árdís of the Zini clan. My felicitations on your recent mating.”

The two of them clasped forearms, the pretty blonde princess forced to look up into the other woman’s dark eyes.

“My sister.” Andromeda bowed her head, resting her forehead against Árdís’s. “You bear the gift of the goddess.” Her gaze slid toward Ishtar, her eyes widening slowly as she moved toward Marduk’s twin with her hands outstretched. “My sister.”

Árdís smoothly intercepted her, her body between them protectively. “This is my younger sister, Ishtar.”

“Of course.” There was a natural warmth in Andromeda’s smile as she bowed her head politely. “You shine like the sun. You are truly goddess-blessed.”

Greetings went between both groups.

“A little unusual that the queen greets us,” Marduk whispered in Solveig’s ear, his hands coming to rest upon her hips like an amorous suitor as he stepped up behind her. “When it should be the king.”

Solveig turned into him, rubbing her cheek against his and caressing the other side of his face. “I thought so too.”

But this conversation needed to be taken to another level.

Solveig opened her psychic senses, and Marduk accepted the link.

“She’s a powerful Chaos-wielder,” she mused. “I think they sent her because they knew your sisters were coming. I also think this King Draco didn’t wish to alarm you, so he presents the softer side of the court.”

“That doesn’t sound like the Zilittu I know.”

“It does when they want something,” she pointed out, her gaze sliding to Ishtar. “Just how powerful is your sister?”

A minute hesitation went through him. “Very.”

And then he withdrew from her link, which was a little telling in itself. This time, it was he who put his body between the Zilittu and Ishtar. He offered his sister his arm, and their eyes met as if he was communicating privately with her.

“Come. Let us guide you to the castle,” Andromeda called.

And then she turned and strode directly into the mist, which parted as though someone swept aside a curtain.

“YOU ARE ALLIED WITH THE ZINI?” Andromeda asked as she rode side by side with Solveig.

The mist unnerved her.

The Zilittu had brought horses for them, but it felt like riding beneath a tunnel of fog. Anything could be hiding out there. The damp weight smothered all sound, and Solveig’s knuckles remained tight on the reins even as she flared her nostrils.

Sound could be obscured, vision could be cut, but smell rarely betrayed her.

“A mating alliance,” she replied. “As is yours, I have heard.”

Andromeda gave her a regal look. “Yes.”

Nothing more. Nothing less.

Interesting.

“Your mating must be very new, for Draco overthrew his father but recently,” she continued, because there was more to this story she suspected. “Though I was surprised to find you accepted the hand of the younger brother, and not Scorpius, who was heir at the time.”

“You are well informed. It’s been a year.” Andromeda’s gaze shifted toward the front. “And Scorpius has chosen exile.”

It wasn’t an answer. “I make it my business to be informed.”

“So do I.” Andromeda gave her that smile again. “You are newly mated also, but three months past, though I am afraid I do not understand why Marduk returned to his clan so soon upon the ceremony? You are the crown princess of your clan, are you not? Should he not stay with your court and forsake his own? Forgive me if your customs are different to mine.”

“He returned to his family after the recent discovery of his sister, Ishtar, though he intends to reside at my court once this matter is finished. And our match is political.” There was no point trying to pretend. She wasn’t that good of an actress.

“Political?” For the first time, Andromeda arched a brow. “He is rather attentive for a political match.”

Solveig couldn’t help herself.

She looked back at Marduk, only to find his amber eyes locked upon her.

Solveig returned her attention to the mist. “We have known each other many years. Do you miss your country?”

A light sprang to life in the other woman’s dark eyes. “More than anything.” She shivered. “It is always cold here, and the food so tasteless.”

They made light conversation, with Solveig probing the other woman for weaknesses. Andromeda missed her home clan and her people; the landscape she described was a world away from the one Solveig knew, and she found herself quite charmed about tales of hunting ibex, which seemed to be some sort of goat-like creature, and baboons, which she couldn’t possibly fathom.

It was most likely the point.

A medieval castle appeared in the mists ahead, and Solveig fell silent as they approached. Most dreki clans coexisted with the human world, but here, in the mountains of Trollheiman, the Zilittu had closed themselves away from the world. Their magic and mists misdirected travelers, and it was quite possible no humans even realized what lurked within their local mountain range.

Her gaze raked the castle’s defenses. Old stone gave way to newer stone, and even brick turrets. It looked like an amalgamation of castles; each dynasty building onto the previous, until a formidable fort remained. Narrow windows. A stark, imposing wall.

And a male dreki resting both hands on the castle battlements, watching as they arrived.

There was a certain kind of reserved grace to the other woman, and as they rode beneath the battlements of the Zilittu castle, Andromeda glanced up from beneath her dark lashes and locked eyes with the male above them.

The king.

Draco Stormshadow, so named because the night of his birth the storms had been so violent that some dreki whispered that the gods were warning them of who was about to be born.

Solveig couldn’t make out much about him, but even from this distance she could sense the power he wielded.

This could be an opportunity for her learn more about the threat the Zilittu formed.

There was certainly no weakness to be found as the Zilittu king jogged down the stairs. He towered over almost all the dreki in the yard.

Draco had overthrown his father and twin brother, and Solveig saw echoes of his uncle imprinted in his face. A certain coldness was chiseled about his mouth, and his eyes were glacial.

He was… gorgeous.

Ice-blond hair. Gray eyes. A firm, stubbled jaw that hinted that the male himself would be no easy spirit to tame.

But all she could see was his uncle.

All she could hear was her mother screaming.

Her dreki surfaced.

Kill him, it whispered.

Not now, she replied, trying to force her knuckles to remain lax on the reins of her horse.

This was merely a habitual reaction to a male who reminded her of her mother’s killer. It wouldn’t rule her. She could contain the hissing snarl within her chest.

“The Zilittu court offers welcome to its cousins,” called a young woman who sauntered out of the castle to stand beside Draco. Viveka of the Northern Mists, if she wasn’t mistaken. Draco’s younger sister.

A handsome blond warrior moved to stand beside the king. Rune, by her guess. The younger brother. Interesting that the three of them stood together against Scorpius.

And there was their warlord, Talon, scowling moodily at the Blackfrost and Marduk, as they entered the bailey.

A full Stormshadow accompaniment.

“I am Draco,” the king said, moving toward her with eerie intensity as if the rest of them didn’t exist. “Welcome to the Zilittu court,” he purred, capturing Solveig’s hand and lifting it to his lips. “You are most… welcome.”

Once again, the killing edge arose to choke her.

10

Solveig watched the king like a hawk as Draco moved around the dining hall, greeting the members of their party with urbane charm and offering them the delights of the Zilittu banquet table.

“Do you want me to fetch a shovel?” Marduk whispered in her ear, deliberately stroking her hand. They sat together in a corner of the hall, and while he’d finished his entire meal, she’d barely had the appetite for hers.

Solveig blinked back into the here and now. “What?”

“The way you’re looking at the king makes me think I might need to start digging a grave for him. I’m not certain whether to be jealous or not. You’ve only ever looked at me that way before.”

“It’s nothing.” Solveig swiftly glanced down at her plate. The roasted quail had tasted delicious, but she couldn’t for the life of her stir any interest in it, even as she stabbed a piece of it with her fork. “He reminds me of someone I used to know.”

“Someone you disliked?”

There was a hard lump in her throat.

She didn’t want to do this right now. Putting her fork down, she scrunched her linens into a ball and looked at him. “What is this sudden interest in my life?”

“It’s not sudden,” he replied, reaching over to steal a piece of carrot from her plate. “I’ve always been interested in you. You’re a mystery, Solveig. I want to solve it. I always have.”

Oh, that was a lie. “So you can use it against me? I think not.” She smiled coldly. “Knowledge is power.”

He stared at her for a long time.

“Knowledge is a powerful thing,” he conceded. “To know someone so truly is to understand them. To connect with them. Tell me a secret. Something you’ve never told a single dreki before.”

Solveig drained her glass of wine. “Why would I? You’re my….”

And then she stopped, because she wasn’t quite certain what he was anymore.

“Enemy?” Marduk suggested, reaching for the flagon of wine and refilling her cup. “Nemesis? Lover?”

She raised a brow at him, and he smiled.

It felt like the sun rose.

It wasn’t fair. Marduk alone—with those chiseled good looks—was breathtaking. It didn’t matter where they were, he could stride into a room and suddenly every dreki male around him vanished.

And she wasn’t the only one who noticed. Female heads turned—sometimes males too—and eyes stopped and lingered on those cut-glass cheekbones and intense golden eyes. He was not just dreki, not merely a male warrior in his prime, but a prince, and he moved as though he’d been born with the notion that everything would move out of his way.

His smile should have been considered a dangerous weapon that he could wield at will.

It bothered her how much it still affected her.

“Lover?” she repeated, disdain dripping from her voice.

“Well, I’m not entirely certain what you want of me. Sometimes you look at me like you want to cut my heart out of my chest and put it in a box, and other times you look at me as though you want to shove me back against the wall and kiss me until I can no longer breathe.” His eyelids grew lazy. “And then there was that moment in your rooms after our mating ceremony. You definitely weren’t thinking of me as your enemy then.”

“I had a knife to your throat.”

His smile softened as if he was remembering it. “I wasn’t really focusing on that, since you also had your thighs around my hips.”

Solveig growled, though her skin suddenly felt several sizes too small. “It was a sharp knife and I was going to cut your throat with it.”

“I was between your thighs,” he replied with a shrug, “and you tasted like apples and cinnamon. If you say there was a knife, there was a knife, but I was a little distracted at the time.”

“I thought getting between my thighs was a certain death for a male. Something akin to… sticking your cock in a bear-trap?”

The words cut his smile from his face. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought him bothered by the past. “I said I was sorry. I should never have spoken those words.”

Solveig swallowed the sudden murderous urge to reach for her knife. She forced her fingers to rub the stem of her wine glass between them, instead. “It doesn’t matter.”

Silence broke between them.

Oh, the hall was merry enough, but she could feel Marduk’s eyes upon her, as if he considered her a mystery, one he was intent upon solving.

He leaned toward her, and his hand slid over hers, trapping it against the table. “I think it does matter. You wouldn’t have had me kidnapped and threatened to kill me if what I’d said didn’t get beneath your skin.”

She jerked her hand from beneath his. “I don’t allow anyone to disrespect me, Marduk. Don’t think I cried tears over you into my pillow every night.”

“Tears?” A snort. “Not tears. But anger. You funneled that hurt into rage, the way you always do.” He gave her a considering look, opened his mouth to speak, and then shook his head.

“What?” she demanded.

“It’s nothing.”

She picked up her fork and waved it at him threateningly. “Oh, please. Don’t bite your tongue now. Not for my sake. There’s nothing you could say that could infuriate me any more than what you’ve done.”

It had bothered her at the time to hear the song he’d sung in the tavern that night and realize he’d fled the court. It was everything she’d wanted of him. Freedom. No more of this nonsense of mating. No more of the threat in his eyes when he’d looked at her and she’d known he was considering her. But there was also an ugly, twisted shard of hurt within her. She didn’t care. She shouldn’t have cared. Her mother had always warned her that there would be males in the world who would not understand her, or the path she chose to tread.

But the knot in her chest—the one fueled of a dangerous attraction to him—had felt utterly rejected by his words.

You didn’t see me. Not truly. You said you did, but you lied.

Marduk captured her wrist, holding the fork away from his vulnerable areas, but it was the look in his eyes that made wariness envelope her.

“I was just wondering who hurt you.” He sounded the words out, as if trying to be careful of his placement of them. “Because you were angry with me from the first moment we met, and you wear it like a mantle, as if it can protect you.” His thumb caressed the inner slope of hers. “Hurt manifests in many ways. And armor can be both offensive and defensive. And I think that you wield your rage like a shield. Because if no one can get close to you, then no one can ever hurt you again.”

The words ricocheted through her like cannon shot.

You. You hurt me.

But admitting that meant admitting there’d been something there, between them.

She tore her hand from his grasp.

“Knowledge is power, Solveig, and you don’t want anyone to know you, because if they don’t know you, then they can’t hurt you.”

“Why don’t we turn the tables? I’ve seen you with your family and your brother. There’s resentment between the two of you, I’m sure of it. I’ve seen you with your court. You run, Marduk. The moment things grow complicated, you start looking toward the horizon. Escape is your shield, and if you don’t let anyone close to you, then you don’t have to suffer. So who hurt you?”

Lightning flashed in his eyes. Irritation. But he forced his jaw to work. “You first.”

“I owe you nothing.”

“Why does everything between us have to be such a fucking fight?”

“Because that’s what we do.”

“It doesn’t always have to be this way.” The muscle in his jaw worked. “I’m trying to—”

“What?” She drove the fork into the table. “What are you trying to do?” Leaning closer, she hissed in his ear. “Because this isn’t real.”

“You’re right. It isn’t real.” Cutting her a hard look, he pushed to his feet. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Excuse me.”

“Run, Marduk,” she called softly.

The glare he threw over his shoulder almost incinerated her. “Attack, Solveig. Your weakness is showing.”

And then he was gone, leaving her with a sour taste in her mouth.

She wasn’t always on her guard. She didn’t always attack first. He’d earned it. To let him under her guard once had been a mistake, and she’d paid for it. To let him in again would be akin to slitting her own throat.

Wouldn’t it?

There was a little hole in her chest that couldn’t be filled. She sat alone, and while she’d always appreciated her own company, she couldn’t help being aware of the lack of his.

It was his energy—the way he always filled a space.

It had to be.

Marduk swiftly joined Draco’s brother. A swift laugh, a clap on the back, and he was suddenly friends with Rune. She could almost see the wariness melt off the Zilittu royal as Marduk began speaking in animated tones, waving his hands as if he was describing some sort of adventure he’d had.

“Goddess, I need some air.” She slipped from the table, knowing that despite his newfound friends, he stared after her.

He wasn’t the only one who watched her go.

Draco murmured something to Árdís and then caught her eye. He didn’t follow her, but he would at some stage. She knew he would.

And she wanted none of it.

THE GARDENS WERE GORGEOUS, and Solveig took refuge in them, trying to breathe through the fury she could finally unleash.

She’d thought she could do this—swallow down all her pain and rage and play politics.

But being here—seeing the echo of Fornax in Draco’s face—was like having all her old scars torn open. And with Marduk pushing and pushing at her, as if he sought to… what? Undo her?

It would take a handful of days to find the key, she reminded herself. A week at most. What was a week?

Torture, that’s what it was.

“You’re avoiding me” came a voice.

Solveig froze, a hand cupping a bloodred rose. Sounds of revelry echoed from within the ancient keep’s dining hall.

She hadn’t expected company this quickly.

So they were going to have this confrontation sooner rather than later. The hilt of her knife felt comforting in her sleeve.

And there was the king, coming toward her like an old nightmare.

Tall and broad-shouldered, with his hungry wolf’s smile, it was like looking into the face of a younger Fornax. And despite the fact she’d spent years building her reputation, she was half-tempted to flinch.

You are not a little girl now, she whispered to herself. You don’t have to be frightened. You killed that bastard, and he can’t haunt you anymore.

She’d told herself those words a thousand times or more, and her spine straightened in defiance.

“Why ever would I avoid you, Your Highness?”

Draco slid both hands into the pockets of his trousers, cocking his head slightly as he considered her. “Because my uncle stole your mother from you and haunted your nightmares for years.”

Direct, then. She almost appreciated it, if not for the hard slam of her heart against the cage of her ribs.

“Do you know how I end those nightmares? I drive my knife through his eye every single night, and I laugh as he screams and begs for mercy. Because he did, you know. And I let him plead; I let him have an ounce of hope, before I plunged my thumb through his other eye and killed him.”

Hooded eyelids swept low over his eyes. “Good. He deserved to die.”

It wasn’t what she’d expected.

She was forced to reconsider him.

The Zilittu were warriors and marauders and always had been. As a clan, ambition consumed them.

And while this king might be proffering words of peace, she could see that same hunger within him.

“My clan owes you a debt, Solveig.” Draco’s voice became whisper-soft, but there was no gentleness to it. Instead, he reached for her hand, brushing featherlight fingers across the back of it. “We paid our weregild for your mother’s loss, but no price can ever make up for the loss of a mother. I wished to apologize in person, because I know the loss burdens you. Just as I know there’s a knife in your other hand, and you would use it if you had cause.” He gave her a slightly dangerous smile. “And I wished for you to know that you do not have cause.”

“An apology from a Zilittu king…. In my court we have a saying about such a thing.”

“Don’t trust it?”

“Something along those lines, yes.”

“And now you’re wondering why I would offer such a thing. You’re wondering what game I’m playing?”

“Perhaps.”

He leaned closer, his fingers resting—just briefly—on the side of her face and his thumb pausing on the indentation of her chin. His whisper held a certain kind of heat she’d never anticipated. “I’m playing the most dangerous game of all. King takes queen.”

Solveig stilled.

Is he…?

She drew back a little warily.

“I’m already mated,” she pointed out. “As are you. And I don’t take kindly to the concept of deception—nor the idea of shaming another woman.”

“Andromeda is aware I intend to end our match. It was her idea. She wishes to return to her home. And both you and I are locked into political alliances that don’t suit us,” he replied coldly. “I saw the pair of you arguing. I know of your past.”

“A lovers’ tiff. And the past is between the pair of us. Don’t believe all the whispers, Draco.”

He smiled, clearly disbelieving her. “The Sadu and the Zilittu share similar territory. Politically, a realignment between our courts would be more valuable to both of us. As I said, the Zilittu have caused past debts, and I would clear them.”

“That sounds a little too honorable for a Zilittu king.”

There was danger written all over him as he leaned toward her. “If it makes you feel better, I killed my father in order to take his throne. I’m not honorable, Solveig. I am merely practical. For centuries we have lived alone, waging wars with brutal efficacy and isolating ourselves. The Zilittu are strong enough to ward off any intruder, but the isolation weakens us. I wish to reenter the dreki world, and to do that I need an alliance.”

“You need a consort who grants you those ties.”

“Yes.”

This time, it was her turn to smile. “The problem is, I need a consort too. And I doubt you’d bend knee before my throne and agree to surrender all familial ties to your own clan.” Every inch of her enjoyed the sudden flare of shock in his eyes. “Or did you think me unambitious too?”

Heat smoldered behind the icy gray of his eyes. “An ambitious queen…. If you think to put me off, then know that you’ve failed. Indeed, quite the opposite.”

He’d been eyeing her as the key to a political battle. A means to an end.

She knew she was no true beauty, so it wasn’t entirely surprising. Andromeda was so stunningly gorgeous that it had to have been something else. “I’m not a game to be won.”

“No?” He glanced down at the hand pushing at his chest, his voice roughening. “Everything is a game to be won.”

“Even Andromeda?”

“What do you mean?”

Solveig pushed past him with a laugh. “I mean that I find the timing of events interesting…. A match is struck between the Ethiopian clan and the Zilittu. A daughter in exchange for an antidote. Except, you weren’t the heir then, were you, Draco? Your brother was. Scorpius was always your father’s favourite. And he was promised a queen. And though I don’t have a full transcript of events, it seems your queen arrived, your father was overthrown, and your twin was exiled all within the same month.” Solveig tapped a finger against her lips. “I’ve been watching tonight. Andromeda allows you to take her hand, though she swiftly disengages. She’s exquisitely polite. She sits at your side. She smiles at you with her mouth—and never her eyes—but she’s angry with you. Did you steal her from your brother?” She saw the flare of heat in his eyes, swiftly concealed. “Or no, the real question is: Does she want your brother, and not you? Have you finally realized that your queen will have none of you? And here I am, a distraction. A means to hurt her back. It’s almost a little insulting, Draco.”

He watched her angrily, and she thought for a moment that she might have to use the knife, after all.

“Here you are,” he said coldly. “A woman who doesn’t wear her mate’s scent on her skin. A woman who sits beside him with her knees tightly crossed, and her wineglass between them. A woman who looks like she wants to bite her mate’s fingers should he dare touch her, and then glances after him longingly once she’s scared him away. You’re not the only one watching, Solveig. You’re not the only one who notices the distance between an allegedly mated couple.” He prowled toward her. “You and I are alike—”

“Too alike.”

He ignored her. “We both want what we can’t have. So why not take what will give us both power?”

“Because, if I considered your proposition, I can’t help thinking that one day I would have to murder you in your sleep, and I don’t think that suits your ambitions, at all. Though it might suit mine. You do have a pretty crown, and I like collecting crowns. I can add it to my hoard, and think fondly of the foolish king who thought to conquer me.”

A rare, genuine smile broke over his face as he captured her wrist. “If anything, you’re only convincing me of my pursuit.”

“Go back to your consort,” she challenged. “And I will go back to mine.”

“If Marduk was truly yours,” Draco whispered, “then it wouldn’t matter how long it had been since you’d shared a bed. His scent would mark your skin.”

Their eyes met.

“But he doesn’t share your bed, does he? He hasn’t touched you, has he? But he wants to. I know that look, Solveig.”

“I think you’ve seen it in the mirror,” she countered, “because you may claim the alliance between yourself and Andromeda is not to either of your satisfaction, but you still look at her, Draco.”

Footsteps echoed up the stairwell.

Marduk appeared at the top of the stairs.

Only… she’d never seen him look like this before.

Gone was the golden prince. The charmer. The constant smile that mocked her.

In its place was a dreki prince whose shoulders blotted out the torchlight behind him. Marduk paused as he took in the scene, though there was no hesitance in his eyes, but something coldly vicious. “Am I interrupting something?”

Solveig took a deep breath. “Not at all.”

The king laughed under his breath. “Just… a possible treaty.”

Marduk looked like he wanted to murder someone. Snagging his arm, she squeezed his biceps. “I believe the king said you knew the way to our chambers?”

His attention jacked toward her at the use of that “our.”

He didn’t look like he wanted to take her back to their chambers at all. He looked like he wanted to either fight Draco or fuck her. Anything to reclaim her as his own.

“Come,” she whispered, sliding her other hand up his chest. “I want to get out of these constricting clothes and bathe. Maybe you could wash my back?”

And then she pushed him back toward the stairwell even as he cut a fierce stare over her shoulder toward the king.

11

“Wash your back?” Marduk demanded the second the doors to their chambers slammed shut. “Now I know something was going on up there between the two of you.”

“Yes.” Solveig rolled her eyes at him. “Two posturing dreki males were about to start snapping and snarling over me like a pair of dogs with a bone. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing is wrong with me.” Marduk tore his coat off and threw it on the bed, still feeling the urge to hit someone.

Preferably the king.

The bastard had had the audacity to smile at him the second Solveig’s back was turned.

In dreki terms, Draco had just thrown a gauntlet between them.

“You were rude to the king we’re trying to deceive,” Solveig told him.

“Draco was practically salivating over you,” he growled.

“He is mated.”

“That didn’t seem to bother him.”

“Well, it bothers me,” she snapped back. “I don’t play those sorts of games, especially not when there is another female involved—even if the match is only political, and even if there’s a possibility it’s going to end. And the idea that you think I would is insulting.”

Marduk slammed to a halt. “I didn’t think you would—”

“No, you weren’t thinking at all. You saw another male sniffing around your property, and you turned into some idiot who had to stake his claim.”

“I do not think of you as my property.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I wasn’t…. I was just…. He’s the enemy!”

He couldn’t even understand it himself.

Solveig wasn’t his. This wasn’t real. He had no idea why he was even acting like a cat who’d suddenly found an enemy tom in his territory. It felt like all his hackles were on edge, and he couldn’t offer a smile so much as bare his teeth.

“Really? He’s the enemy?”

“Oh, please.” His voice came out in a growl. “If I was your enemy then you wouldn’t be here.”

“There’s a threat to my court. You’re a means to an end. And I thought we were here to find the key to close the portal to Álfheimr? I thought this was a matter of life or death.”

“It is,” he snapped.

“Then why are you prowling around the room as though you’ve just sighted a dreki intruder in your lands?”

“I am not….” He paused. He was pacing. And there was no point lying about it to her. “He didn’t set your teeth on edge?”

Solveig poured herself some wine, one of those dark brows arching. “Not quite the impression I gained, no.”

And then she smirked into her wineglass.

He was going to murder that prick—

“Marduk!” A hand caught his shoulder, and he realized he was almost at the door, reaching for the doorknob. “What is wrong with you?”

“He challenged me, the second he put his hands on you.”

Solveig shoved him against the door, and his breath slammed out of him. In two seconds, he had a furious female dreki at his throat. “It was just a little game. Draco was sounding out our relationship since he couldn’t smell your scent on me.”

“Yes, but….”

Words failed him as he caught a tantalizing sniff of her skin—and realized there was another scent laid over the top of it.

A cold, vicious male scent.

All over her.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair and breathed it in. Sudden rage exploded through him. He bared his teeth at her. “I can smell him on you.”

The world vanished in a conflagration of fury.

He’d never felt like this before. A complicated mix of jealousy and arousal sounded through his head, obliterating his vision for a second, until all he could see was Draco smirking at him.

A hand pounded against his chest.

He captured it and pinned it there, Solveig’s face slowly coming back into focus. He was reaching for the door again and he couldn’t remember moving. It took physical effort to restrain himself

“Don’t you dare,” she said. “You’re acting like a jealous, possessive male.”

“I am not a jealous male, but the king needs to learn that you are—”

“What?” she demanded.

Mine. He couldn’t say it, but the word blazed through him as though it had set some part of him alight. “My mate.”

Solveig hissed, and there was a wildness within her eyes that made his cock clench. “He’s not truly interested in me, you fool. He’s baiting you. He’s trying to see how strong this alliance is. Nothing more.”

Well, it worked.

Marduk captured her other wrist. And gods it felt good. To get his hands on her. To back her against the door. “If you think Draco’s not interested in you, then you should take another look at the way he watches you, my love. Don’t find yourself alone with him again.”

Solveig threw her head back and laughed, the sultry sound echoing through their chambers. “Or what? You think I won’t kick his teeth through the back of his head if he tried to do something to me?”

“I don’t think he means to attack you.”

She fell still, and this time when their gazes locked, there was a predatory stillness within her. Her back was to the door, and the urge to shove her against it, to lean down and capture that dangerous mouth was almost all-consuming—

“No,” he continued, trying to rein in the dreki within him. “If he seeks to test our alliance, then the king won’t hurt you. He’ll charm you. Woo you. Think to seduce you.”

“He’s not interested in seducing me. He’s merely sounding me out about a potential alliance.”

“How the hell is that not seduction?”

“Because the only time he was actually interested in me was when I told him it wouldn’t work because neither of us would give in to the other. The rest of the time Draco was cold. Practiced. Going through his lines. When I said he didn’t strike me as the sort to play at helpful consort, his eyes lit up. He likes a challenge.”

Marduk stared at her speechlessly. Five minutes. Five damned minutes, and the king had clearly managed to propose a union between them, as if Marduk didn’t exist.

And she…. That didn’t sound like she’d said no. No, it sounded like she’d offered a counter deal.

“Stop looking at me like that. Start thinking with your head and not your cock. None of this was aimed at me. You think it’s convenient that a servant directed you our way the second the king started sniffing my hair? Draco wanted you to catch us in an awkward situation, because he’s trying to test the resolve in our party. I know how the Zilittu think. They push and they test and they search for openings. And the second they find one, they attack.”

“Then you need to reassure him there is no opening here.”

Solveig’s hand slid down his chest, and then she pushed away him from her, the heat in her eyes banking. “I hardly think I’m going to be the female he tries to single out from the herd. Elin is breathtakingly beautiful. She’s young. Innocent. Pure. Unattached. If anything, she’s the one who needs to be warned.”

Was she blind?

“He didn’t even glance her way. It will be you. He’s only interested in—”

“Male dreki don’t look at me like that, Marduk.”

“Like what? Like they want to shove you up against a wall and kiss the defiance from you? Like they want to throw you over their shoulder and steal you away to their lairs?”

Because if not, then they’re fools.

“I would like to see them try. I’m the hunter. Not the prey.” Her right hand curled into a fist as she spun back to him. “You said it yourself. No dreki male would ever want a female like me.”

That cursed song.

“I was an idiot. And that’s not what I said at all.” It was like a monster that had grown in the telling, until it was this uncontrollable myth tangled around his throat. “Are you blind? You’re powerful. Dangerous. A challenge to every single male dreki who crosses your path. You think any of them are looking at Elin? Blonde, simpering Elin, who bats her lashes and looks like she’d surrender at the merest hint of a smile? You’re a storm, Solveig. You’re a maelstrom. And maybe males don’t look at you and think of sweet kisses and surrender, but let me assure you, they look. And they wonder whether they have the strength to tame the storm.”

“Tame?” She echoed the word as if it tasted vile.

“I’m merely trying to show you what other males think when they look at you. Don’t think that thought ever crossed my mind. Your fierceness is exactly what I—”

He came to a staggering halt.

And Solveig turned on him as if she sensed weakness. “You what?”

He could barely breathe. But she was advancing upon him as if she’d sensed a mortal wound.

“You what?” she repeated, in a dangerously sultry voice.

Marduk could have lied. He could have avoided her, but as his heart kicked a little harder in his chest, he knew this was a moment from which there was no turning back.

“It’s exactly what I like the most about you,” he admitted.

THERE WERE some moments that could never be taken back.

“What you like the most about me?” Solveig repeated.

There was no sign of Marduk’s ever-present smile. Instead, he scowled a little and crossed his arms. “You don’t have to sound so incredulous.”

“You hate me—”

“No.” His denial came swiftly. “I’ve never hated you. I was angry with you at times—you did threaten to kill me, after all. But I’ve never hated you. I may have considered vengeance once or twice, but never seriously.”

Solveig considered the admission, feeling the dreki push within her, until her skin felt stretched. She didn’t want to say it. She didn’t want to ask. “Is that why you chose me? Revenge?”

Their eyes met.

She didn’t know why the concept made her want to throw something.

But Marduk tilted his head as if he was learning far more from her than she was from him, and he slowly dropped his gaze. “No.”

Just that.

No.

Solveig pushed into his space. “Then why? Why me? Why did you do this to me? You had the choice of all three of us.”

“You know why.”

“Because you didn’t want to break Aslaug’s heart. And Siv was so horrified you’d choose her that she was practically trying to vanish into the ground. So you chose me.”

The one daughter whose heart he couldn’t touch.

Silence fell, bringing with it the uncomfortable realization they were alone here. Trapped together in one damned room, with one bed, all for appearances sake.

She couldn’t escape him.

But she needed to put space between them before she lashed out. Maybe he was right. Maybe anger was her defense, because right now, she wanted to hurt him.

“Where are you going?” he demanded as she turned and strode toward the wash chambers.

“Away from you,” she shot over her shoulder. “Before I destroy my clan’s alliance with the Zini.”

A hand snagged her wrist. “Stay. Talk to me. Let me—"

Solveig snarled, turning on him with her knife in hand. She couldn’t even remember drawing it.

“If you stick that knife in me, then you’re not just going to destroy your father’s alliance, you’re going to drag him into a war,” Marduk pointed out, his hand wrapping around hers until her fingers were forced to curl around the hilt.

He forced the dagger to lower.

“I think I’d be forgiven. Have you met you?”

A breath of laughter escaped him. “Oh, Solveig.”

It was more than she could bear.

Shoving through the door into the wash chambers, she moved with feverish energy toward the washbasin. He was right. She could smell Draco on her skin, as well as Marduk’s overpowering scent.

She needed all of it off her.

Water churned as she cupped her hands beneath the faucet and splashed her face, bringing with it the feeling she could breathe again. Solveig rested her hands on the basin and closed her eyes, shuddering as the dreki inside her tried to tear its way free.

Your fierceness is… exactly what I like the most about you.

She didn’t know why those words caused so much damage.

She didn’t care if other dreki didn’t like her.

She was Solveig the Fierce, and the whims of others rarely affected her. She was who she was, and others could either fall in line, get out of her way, or be trampled beneath her heel. To make herself smaller, just because others could not conceive of her greatness was to let others control her.

It was him, she finally conceded, staring at her reflection.

The one time she had ever looked at a man and thought… maybe…. And then he’d hurt her. He’d proven he was just like all of the others, and so she’d locked her fledgling heart away behind her iron walls and she’d never dared risk it again.

And why would she even want to?

The truth struck her hard. You liked him more than you wanted to admit. He could have stolen your heart. If you’d let him.

No wonder her dreki raged. She had very nearly fallen into a trap of her own choosing, and it had been warning her all along.

MARDUK TOSSED the blankets back on their bed.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Solveig ran her fingers through the tangle of her wet hair. Her bath had restored some of her equilibrium and given her time to think. “I thought we’d agreed you were taking the floor?”

“That was for two nights.” There was an edge to his voice. “This is a different situation. You need my scent on your skin.”

Her fingers snagged in her hair. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“What’s the point in even pretending there’s a mating alliance between us if you’re batting your lashes at another man?”

Oh, hell no. “Batting my lashes?”

“Do you know what the problem between us is?” Marduk advanced on her suddenly, lamplight casting flickering shadows over his bare chest. Every inch of him was sleek muscle, and she couldn’t help admiring him.

“I could name a dozen things.” She stepped to the side, intent on moving past him.

He reached out, his arm locking around her waist. “I could name one.”

Their eyes met.

It was a trap. She knew it was a trap, and for the life of her she couldn’t avoid it. “Then name it.”

Marduk leaned closer, his breath whispering over her skin and his eyes alight with amber fire. “We need to fuck. This storm has been brewing between us for years. It needs to be assuaged, before one of us does something we’ll regret.”

The crudity of the word drove a lance of aching desire through her. Solveig pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the pulse of his heart beneath her palm. All she need do was wield claws and she could pluck his heart right out from beneath the cage of his ribs. “It’s such a romantic proposition, Marduk, that I’ll need a chance to consider it.” She cocked her head, nibbling on her lower lip. “I fear I’ll have to decline.”

Ducking under his arm, she sauntered across the room, feeling his eyes follow her.

“Romance? When have you ever desired romance? I thought you preferred truth?”

“Every girl desires a bit of romance.”

“You want me,” he growled behind her. “I know you do. I can see your eyes lingering on me. I can smell it on you.”

Frustration edged his voice.

Good. She wanted it to ache within him just as much as it ached within her.

“I want a great many things in life,” she retorted. “The bodies of my enemies stacked before me. An entire cavern of dwarvish gold that I can swim in. Maybe a few pretty diamonds, because a dreki girl can never have too many diamonds. A collection of crowns. A throne.”

“And not a single mention of another living soul.”

However poorly it might have been sighted, the remark hit its target. She curled her lip at him as she plucked up her comb. “Oh, please. Are you trying to say you’re the type of male who yearns for a volcano large enough for two? Have you named all your future kits yet?”

Marduk crossed his arms over his chest, the muscles in his biceps flexing. “Goddess, no. What would I do with kits? I just find it interesting that your aspirations don’t seem to include anyone else.”

“I haven’t found a male who’d be content to let me rule,” she replied with a shrug. “They always seem to keep pushing for more.”

“I don’t yearn for your crown, Solveig. I just want you. Beneath me.”

There it was, out there in the open.

“That wasn’t what you said ten years ago.”

Anger sparked in his eyes. “Oh, I wanted you. But you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me. You kept throwing me at your sister.”

“Aslaug wished to mate you. I did not.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Solveig.”

“I will.” The comb caught in her hair, and she cursed under her breath.

“Anytime you want to release some tension, let me know,” he said.

“I’m not the one threatening to kill the king we’re trying to entice.”

“Fine. I’ll kill him in the morning then, and none of this need matter.” Marduk plumped the pillow and then fell back onto it, cupping one hand under his head. He didn’t bother to haul the sheets higher, and the entirety of his bare chest was splayed for her perusal.

And he knew it.

Solveig’s eyes narrowed. He was daring her. Daring her to sleep on the floor. Daring her to set him against the king.

Oh, you arrogant prick.

He wanted her, did he? Wanted to release a little tension? Scratch a little itch?

“Move over,” she told him.

Stillness radiated through him, which brought a smile to her lips. Did you think I wouldn’t call your bluff, Marduk?

He swept the blankets down on her side of the bed. “You’re more than welcome to join me.”

“Scent-marking,” she told him. “And that’s all this is. If those hands stray over to my side of the bed, then I’ll remove them.”

He rolled his eyes. “I would never touch a female who didn’t demand it. Your virtue is safe.”

Solveig made sure her curtain of dark hair tumbled over her shoulders as she bent down, aware of the picture she made as she blew the candle out. “Good.”

She didn’t take her eyes off him the entire time.

Darkness plunged into the room.

He wasn’t even breathing, but she’d seen him hitch a breath at the last second, his cock twitching beneath the blankets.

Unknotting the tie on her robe, she let the silk slip down her body, pooling around her feet. The slither it made was as loud as a hoarse whisper.

“Did you just….” He audibly swallowed. “Solveig?”

“What’s wrong, Marduk?”

“Are you… naked?”

Stepping out of her slippers, she sauntered toward the bed, enjoying the sudden shifting of tension between them. “And if I was?”

“Fuck.” He shifted in the sheets. “Has anyone ever told you how evil you are?”

Solveig slipped beneath the sheets, tucking her sheathed knife under her pillow. “What a terrible thing to say,” she purred as her silken nightgown rasped over her skin. He didn’t need to know she was still wearing it. “Why would you make such a claim?”

Marduk rolled toward her, and as her eyesight slowly adjusted to the darkness, she could just make out the curve of his shoulder and the smooth glide of his hip. His voice roughened. “You know exactly what you’ve just done.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she replied, in her most innocent voice.

“Solveig.” The way he said her name had the inadvertent effect of making her thighs clench. There was heat there. Desire. And he was reining it in hard, choking on it, which made her own breath catch. “When a woman gives me that look, blows out the candle, and climbs in bed with me, it’s usually a plea. It’s a little confusing.”

“And what makes you think it isn’t a plea?” Some part of her enjoyed the power of this moment.

He’d always held the power between them.

Desire.

It wasn’t entirely a shock—he’d pinned her to the floor the day they bound themselves together before her father’s court and kissed her with a passion that enflamed—but she knew what they said about him.

He could charm the very birds from the trees, if he wished.

Kissing her meant nothing. He’d enjoyed it, but he’d held the upper hand, and then he’d vanished without a second thought for her.

But this was personal.

She knew that right now, there wasn’t a single other thought in his head beyond her. The urge to reach for her was driving him toward the edge; she could feel it in the clenched tightness of his knuckles and the restrained way he breathed. Her. This was all her.

“Because you don’t beg.”

“Maybe I could,” she whispered. “Maybe you could teach me.”

Another thoughtful silence.

“I know what this is,” he suddenly said. “You’re trying to make my head explode.” Then his voice roughened. “Fine. Now that I know the rules of the game, I’ll warn you… turnabout is fair play.” A husky laugh filled the air. “Maybe I will teach you to beg….”

Solveig stilled. She knew what he was suggesting.

A single yes, and he would be all over her—and worse, a part of her wanted that.

But she couldn’t help recalling his reaction when the king made his proposition toward her.

“Sleep well,” she whispered. “I’m sure sharing a bed will leave enough of your scent on me to ensure relations between all courts involved will remain cordial.”

A soft groan tore from him—enough to ignite a smile on her lips.

“I promise you’ll pay for this, Solveig.”

And she laughed as she rolled away from him, tugging the sheets up to her chin. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? Don’t you like it when I have the upper hand?”

The bed shifted behind her, leaving her tense with anticipation, but he didn’t reach for her. He kept his promise. “You can have the upper hand, my love, but I promise you this… one day I will have you on your hands and knees for this moment. And you will beg me to put you there.”

12

“You’re enjoying this,” Marduk accused the next morning, dragging out a chair opposite Solveig as she cracked the top of a boiled egg with a silver spoon.

“Yes, I am.” Dipping her spoon into the runny egg, she sucked it with deliberate attention. The silken mass of her hair spilled down her spine, and the robe she wore was dark green.

She looked good in green.

She’d looked good this morning too, stirring sleepily and grumbling at him as he slipped from the bed. Or maybe that had been the fact she’d trespassed on his side of the bed and somehow wound up in his arms. He’d woken with a throbbing cockstand, a waspish female glaring up at him, and a fingernail stabbing into his chest, as she warned him that if he brought that “brutish weapon” anywhere near her, she’d remove it.

It had been with great pleasure that he’d pointed out that she’d been the one who had snuggled into him.

And now he was paying for those words.

Marduk’s lower lip caught between his teeth, and he looked at her through his eyelashes. There was something about her this morning that drew all eyes. A certain kind of vivaciousness.

“You like power,” he continued, examining her expression. “You like being in control.”

“All true, but what I really like,” Solveig whispered, leaning over the table toward him with a wicked glint in her eyes, “is taking that power back.”

He stroked his thumb over the table barely an inch from her hand, wishing it was her skin. But she’d set the rules. He wasn’t to touch. Not until she allowed it. And he’d spent enough years flirting to know that she was going to allow him to touch her at some point.

Because he hadn’t been the only one suffering last night.

He could be patient.

But the past still needed to be dealt with. “You think I took your power away from you?”

Instantly, the playful flirtatiousness vanished from her eyes. “Nobody takes my power away from me.”

There were a dozen implications to that statement.

Marduk considered her, tapping his fingers on the table. From the very first moment he’d met her, she’d been on guard against him. At first, he’d assumed it was being forced into a mating contract by her father, but he’d seen their relationship—if Solveig truly wished to refuse such a thing, she would have.

Honor and a sense of duty to her clan might have forced her hand, but again, something told him her enmity had nothing to do with circumstances, and everything to do with him.

Power. In some twisted way, she thought he’d deprived her of it. It wasn’t the song. It wasn’t the mating contract. But….

He blinked as a shocking thought occurred.

She was attracted to him. He was male enough to know that. And when he’d kissed her after the mating ceremony, she’d kissed him back. And if Haakon, Tormund, and Bryn hadn’t burst into the room, it might have gone further than that.

His fingers slowed. It was the attraction that was the issue. It had to be. She knew she’d lost control when he’d kissed her, and she hated it.

But he’d never kissed her the first time they met.

She’d stabbed him before his lips made contact, and the fury in her eyes had been a storm of reckoning.

Don’t touch. Don’t touch. Don’t touch.

But maybe… maybe for the first time she’d wanted to, and for a female like her—with such grand intentions of claiming her father’s throne when he weakened—the idea of being distracted was intolerable.

“Are you a virgin?” He didn’t even know where the words came from.

Solveig choked on her tea, spluttering a mouthful of liquid across her plate. “Goddess’s mercy. What the hell kind of question is that?” She slapped her chest. And then both eyebrows rose incredulously. “Oh, I see. Clearly my glacial indifference to you has to have a cause.”

“Mmm. I don’t think you’re that indifferent.”

“Of course you don’t. No, Marduk. I took care of that long ago, and while it’s been a while, I have—on occasion—taken lovers when I cared to. Male. Female. Whoever pleased me.”

“Females?”

“Sometimes I prefer it,” she said, dipping a piece of toast into her egg. “I don’t have to deal with an entire armada of dreki arrogance trying to conquer me. It’s just about mutual pleasure and connection.” She laughed under her breath. “Did you think I was pining for you?”

Hardly. “I’m just trying to work out how to proceed.”

She shot him an evil look. “Carefully, I would recommend. Or not at all, if one is to have a preference. I will not be toyed with.”

“Considering you wound up in my arms this morning, I’m not entirely certain of that.”

“Do you know what I think?”

“What?”

She smiled. “I think you hate it when I flirt with you, because you know it’s not real, and it absolutely baffles you that there’s at least one female out there who won’t fall for your charm.”

Marduk reached forward and stabbed a piece of her toast with his fork, his eyes locked on her the whole while. “Oh no, my love. Toy with me. I like it when you flirt. And I even like it when you hold me at bay, because I know you won’t last forever.”

“You’re optimistic.”

Molten desire poured through him. “I’ve heard you beg, Solveig. And last night, the king’s presence wasn’t the only scent you were giving off. You want the truth? Last night in bed I ached, but I wasn’t the only one aching. My cock was as hard as your pussy was wet. And we both know it.”

And then he bit down on her toast.

Heat flashed through Solveig’s eyes. This was how he liked her best: irritable and raw with her own leashed desires. Needy and furiously frustrated about it. Fighting a war with her own urges.

“I’ll win, Solveig, because you’re not just fighting me; you’re also fighting yourself. And you can’t fight us both.”

She stole the remains of her toast from his fingers. “If you think I can’t rein myself in forever, then you barely know me. There is no game I can’t win out of sheer spite.”

“Mmm.” He licked the crumbs from his finger, taking the time to suckle them from his thumb. “We’ve barely spent three nights in bed together. Imagine what it’s going to feel like once those nights stretch into weeks?”

Oh, she was furious now, glaring at him through thin slits. “I might just murder you yet.”

“Not today,” he said with some enjoyment. “Today, we’re going to start searching for the key.”

“How?”

Marduk smiled. “Chaos magic leaves an imprint. An entire object crafted into being by that many Chaos-wielders can be hidden and warded, but its footprints remain. And luckily, our party has two Chaos-wielders and me.”

“You?” she asked dubiously, sipping her tea.

“Me.” He shrugged. “Ishtar bound herself to me in the womb. I’m sensitive to Chaos magic now. I can hear its song. I can see its weft sometimes. I just can’t use it myself.”

“Mmm.”

“So you and I are going to explore the castle grounds,” he said, buttering another piece of toast, “while my sisters greet the Chaos-wielders here. If anyone is watching—and I daresay they will be—they’ll be focusing on my sisters. Not me. Here.”

He held the piece of toast toward her—a quiet challenge. To eat from his hand said a thousand things in dreki culture, and was often a sign of intimacy between mates.

Solveig never took her eyes off him as she bit into it.

ON A HILLTOP OVERLOOKING the castle stood a timber palisade, and within it, a little village.

Chickens ran amuck, clucking hysterically as children tried to catch them. There were small vegetable gardens everywhere—even sprawling into the street that wended its way between thatched houses—and right in the heart of the village spread the roots of an enormous oak.

Little bundles of sticks and offerings to the goddess had been hung in its branches, including the skeletons of smaller animals, and Marduk wasn’t entirely certain as to whether it was a warning toward other dreki—or perhaps something to ward away evil spirits.

“Well met,” called Andromeda as she waited beneath the oak.

Queen she might be, but her feet were bare and her pale blue gown was simple. One didn’t need to see a crown to know she ruled here, because everything about her was regal, from her square-set shoulders to the straightness of her spine.

“Sisters,” she said, greeting Árdís and then Ishtar and clasping their forearms.

He was watching Ishtar’s face when she said it, and realized he’d never seen his twin look like this before. There was a radiance about her in that moment, as if she had finally found her place in the world.

He forced himself to look at the village again.

They were women.

All women.

And they moved about their day, ignoring the four intruders as if they had a thousand better things to be doing. A group of young girls sat cross-legged in a field, threading Chaos magic between them. The song caught his ear from several directions, but there was a harmony to it here that he’d never felt before.

The children were singing the magic into harmony.

And Ishtar looked at them as if she wanted to join. A little arrow of sadness went through him at the thought. She’d been called monster in the past, and locked away from a world that was frightened of her power, but here, she was merely one among many.

It felt strange to know this clan was one his people had always reviled. The Zilittu were savage, untrustworthy, and ambitious. But there was a beauty and acceptance here that he hadn’t expected to find. One that almost tempted him too.

Unless that was exactly what this show was designed to do.

“Come,” Andromeda said, linking arms with Ishtar. “I have been doing some asking around. You have relatives here, through your mother’s side.”

Árdís met his gaze.

“If they’re hiding anything, I can’t sense it,” she told him psychically. “There’s so much magic being woven here that I can’t focus on it all.”

“The perfect place to hide the key,” he replied.

“Indeed.”

“This way,” Andromeda called, leading them toward a small hut near the back of the village.

It felt surreal to know this was where his mother had grown up. Marduk couldn’t help trailing his fingers over the nearest fence, wondering if this place would give him the missing piece of himself that he’d spent a lifetime looking for.

Inside, the cottage was spotlessly clean. A tall young woman ladled soup into a bowl, and as her gray eyes flashed to his, he realized it was Viveka.

To find Draco’s sister handing soup to one of the oldest dreki he’d ever seen was a shock. He’d heard rumors of Viveka of the Northern Mists. She’d fought at Draco’s side when he overthrew his father, and they said her sword had wept with blood for days.

“It’s a good morning,” Viveka murmured to Andromeda, though her eyes were neutral as she looked them over. “Don’t irritate her.”

“We won’t,” Árdís assured her.

“This is Klara,” Andromeda said, picking up a shawl and settling it over the shoulders of the old lady sitting by the hearth. “I believe she is your great-aunt.”

Marduk searched the old woman’s face. His father’s parents had been a mated pair who passed into the winds together before he was born, and King Reynar had been their only son.

He’d never known grandparents or aunts or uncles. Only his uncle Stellan, and he and his sons had been the bane of Marduk’s earlier life.

“Klara, this is Árdís, Marduk, and Ishtar,” Andromeda said gently. “They are blood of your blood.”

The wizened old lady turned her face toward him. Her eyes were completely white, and it was clear she was blind. “Marduk?” She reached for him, most likely because he was closest. “A powerful name.”

Marduk’s hand shook as he touched hers.

A gentle wind scoured his hair back from his face, caressing his cheeks, as if she was learning him with her magic.

And then Klara hissed and drew her hand back as if scalded. “You,” she spat. “You’re one of hers.”

“Hers?”

“My niece.” The way she said the word sounded like a curse. “Amadea killed my sister. Her own mother. I know she did!”

Andromeda’s jaw gaped open, and she tried to settle the old woman. “Klara, your sister died from heart failure. It was years ago—”

“It was Amadea!” She shoved Andromeda’s hands away from her. “I know it was her. That writhing little snake. She got her throne and her crown, didn’t she? By ending my sister’s life.”

“Easy, now,” Viveka murmured, trying to grab the older woman’s arm. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Klara sobbed. “I can sense her all over you. She’s a stain on your soul. Her wickedness fills you.”

“She’s dead,” Marduk tried to say. “My mother’s dead. And she was no kinder to us than she was to you.”

“She’s not dead,” she hissed. “I can smell her magic all over you—"

“You should go,” Viveka murmured, her eyes on the older woman. “You’re only upsetting her.”

Marduk turned for the doorway, nearly knocking Solveig over. He burst into the light.

His chest felt tight.

His lungs wouldn’t open.

He’d been wrong. There was nothing here for him. Nothing at all.

SOLVEIG FOUND him sitting on the top of the hill, staring down at the castle. The chime of bones echoed through the oak tree behind them, but up here, by an old stone wall, they could have been miles away from both the Chaos-wielders’ village and the castle.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said, staring at nothing as she approached.

For once, she wasn’t entirely certain what to say.

Marduk radiated calmness again, but she’d seen the flash of panic in his eyes when the old woman started screaming at him. Another shocking realization: for all his laughing manner, he had his own share of ghosts.

She took a seat on the stone wall beside him. Here was his weakness. Here was his destruction, right in front of her. The pressure point to push. The means to destroy him.

And to know it was to reveal her own weakness.

For this Marduk—the one who’d fled from an old woman’s scathing anger—was the one that intrigued her. Not the laughing scoundrel who teased her with sex and sin. She might have withstood that Marduk. But this one, the one with scars she couldn’t see, scars he hid behind a smile and a laugh, was the one who tempted her.

Her anger toward him sat like a hot coal in her chest. Years’ worth of resentment and fury. She’d carried that anger throughout the storm of her entire adult life, using it to fuel her determination whenever she was backed into a corner.

And Solveig let it go, breathing through the flood of release as she closed her eyes and merely sat beside him.

The wind whipped through her hair. In this moment, he was so far away from her that she might not have even existed.

A murdered father.

A villainous mother.

A sister he’d never known.

All the pieces were coming together.

And there was a breathless feeling within her, as she thought of everything he’d tried to say to her. “It was a bad time in your life, you said,” she repeated softly, hearkening back to their argument that night in the inn. “Why?”

Marduk’s tortured gaze caught hers. Anger drowned his irises in dreki gold. But it wasn’t anger at her. “Now you want to talk?”

“Tell me a secret,” she said.

The words caught him, as she knew they would.

“You first.”

Solveig sighed and slung her legs over the stone wall. The village hovered far below, and nobody could hear them here. “I hate being here.”

“What?” That shocked him. “Why?”

She took a deep breath and stared over the mountains. “What do you see when you look into Draco’s eyes?”

“Really?” His voice roughened. “I’m fairly certain I made my feelings about him clear last night, when I made a fool of myself in our rooms.”

She turned her head to look at him. “I see the eyes of my mother’s killer.”

Her words cut through his anger. He flinched.

“Draco looks like his uncle, Fornax. It makes me feel uneasy.”

His silence was a pointed thing. He waited for her to tell him more, but she’d said enough. This one small concession would have to be enough.

“Your mother was evil,” she said instead.

Marduk took a deep breath. “Evil is the wrong word, I think. It’s too easy a word to use for her. It’s an excuse, as if to say, oh, well, she was evil, she couldn’t help herself. And she could.” Pain shadowed his eyes. “My mother was cunning and spiteful and ambitious. She could be cruel or she could be playful. She could love. She loved her twin brother, Stellan, with all her heart. He was everything to her and nothing else could penetrate the bond they shared.”

Solveig’s lip curled.

“Not like that. They were bound together the way Ishtar and I are. And… I don’t know what her life was like before she mated with my father, but sometimes… sometimes she would have nightmares. She’d wake screaming, saying she couldn’t breathe, that ‘they’ were burying her alive. I don’t who she meant, but my uncle would always rush into her room and haul her into his arms. ‘You’re safe now,’ he would say. ‘You’re safe.’ And he would rub her back and hold her while she sobbed.” Marduk swallowed as if he tasted something bitter. “I’m not trying to excuse her, but… there were pieces to her that weren’t all bad.”

Solveig could see the truth in his eyes. “You loved her. Once.”

“I… don’t know what I felt. I was younger than the others, and it always seemed as if there was something missing in my life. It turns out there was. Ishtar. But in their absence, my mother filled that void. I could make her smile. I could make her laugh. She loved me best, I think. As much as she could have loved any of us.” And he wore the shame of that on his face. “But her attention was never absolute. I was a moment of respite for her. A moment of joy. A performing dog. And I’m ashamed to say that when her attention wasn’t upon me, I sought ways to earn it.”

He wore that cutting smile he often wore. A flash of tight lips, his teeth smothered behind them. “I was reckless and childish. I got into fights and did everything I wasn’t supposed to do. I was spoiled and spiteful, and if it wasn’t for Árdís, I probably would have turned into a vile little creature, much like my cousin Roar.”

“No.” Solveig studied his face. “I met your cousin. Roar was born hungry, and it wouldn’t have mattered how much he had, he would always want more. You… don’t yearn for anything.”

“That’s not true.” His voice roughened, and he looked at her. “I want a lot of things I can’t have.”

Solveig’s breath caught.

There were numerous ways she could take that statement. Desire for something purely because he was told he couldn’t have it. A sexual innuendo. Nothing to do with her at all.

But she knew, with her very soul, that he was speaking of her.

And that the need within him hung thick and heavy in his veins, like barely warmed honey.

It wasn’t just her who felt it.

It wasn’t just her who was struck by this horrible, conflicting need that both trapped and consumed her.

It was real, dangerously real, conjured between them with a mere slip of the tongue.

Awareness exploded into being within her. They were inches apart and yet she felt his nearness as if his very gaze stroked her skin. Unwanted heat formed in the pit of her stomach, tracing slick fingers between her thighs.

His gaze asked too much of her. Solveig couldn’t meet it.

She fought to pick her way through an answer that wouldn’t condemn her. One that pushed them away from the dangers of the topic at hand. “You are nothing like your cousin Roar. You yearn for the experience of everything you look at. You don’t yearn to own it. I’ve seen you fly. I’ve seen you laugh and fight. You live for the sheer enjoyment of living. If someone offered you a mountain of gold, you wouldn’t give a damn about it. It’s a terribly un-dreki attitude.”

“Careful now; you’re going to make me blush. And what can gold do for me? It’s cold and it’s heavy. I don’t even have a volcano to store it in. I would have to guard it against avaricious humans. Who could be bothered?” His face twisted. “I hate volcanoes. I want to explore the world, and I can’t carry all that gold with me.”

“Un-dreki,” she repeated again, grateful he’d allowed that moment to slip between his fingers. “And why do you hate volcanoes?”

They were the closest a dreki could get to the heart of the goddess. Warm. Groaning with fire. A place to hibernate when needed. Everything a dreki could desire.

Tension slid through him again. He pushed to his feet instead of answering and offered her a hand. “Want to get out of here? I’ve been eyeing the mountains nearby. We could climb one. The cliffs are amazing.”

The sudden change of direction confused her.

She eyed his hand. “Why would I climb a mountain when I can fly?”

A strange gleam lit his eyes. “To conquer it. To prove you can. To drive everything out of your head, because every thought you have is focused on hauling your sheer weight up a virtually impossible cliff.”

Ah. So that was why his fingertips bore those calluses. But she was not to be distracted. “Why do you hate volcanoes?”

Marduk must have realized she wasn’t going to take his hand, for he lowered it and looked away. There was a distance to his expression that tore at her heart a little. “When I came of age, I began to realize my mother was trying to distance me from the court. Until then, I’d been her eager little puppet. I had no idea she saw me as a threat.”

Solveig, who was used to male dreki and their ambitions, arched a brow. Of course, he would have been a threat. Amadea was a Zilittu queen, and if she ruled as Queen Regent, then she might have been able to hold the Zini court together in the wake of Rurik’s exile—but only through a Zini heir.

He looked back at her, cold and hard, and as tempestuous as any storm. “That was when the dreams began. Every second night I would wake up gasping, certain the cave walls of my bed chambers had collapsed down upon me. I was crushed in rubble, trapped under granite…. I’d scream and beg for help, but no one came. Earth is not one of my gifts, and it would fail me, again and again, until the oxygen would finally run out.

“Dream-walking was one of my mother’s skills, but I didn’t know that. Sleep became impossible under the court roof. Leaving—even if it was to venture to your court to assist with a treaty—was an opportunity I leapt at. I hate going back there even now. It’s not my home. It’s never been my home. I hate it.” His voice roughened. “My mother…. She gets inside your head, and she makes you believe all the worst fears you have about yourself.”

Solveig wrapped her arms around her knees. Fear was a currency she traded in. Her father had always said that to find a dreki’s greatest fear was to find a means to bargain with him. And she’d never been able to work out Marduk’s weakness, for he shrugged everything off with a smile or a laugh.

But this….

“You’re afraid of being underground,” she whispered.

“I’m not afraid…. I managed to break into the Ikkibu court to rescue Ishtar….” His eyes were a little wild. “But the only way to do that was to let the song overwhelm me. If all I knew was her and Chaos, then it wasn’t… it wasn’t so bad. I was awake, the roof was holding, I could get out.” His breathing roughened. “But to venture underground for any other reason? No. I would rather throw myself off a cliff without my wings a thousand times than voluntarily claim a volcano.”

She could destroy him with this information. It was troubling to realize she didn’t particularly wish to. “I put you in chains in a cell underground.”

He closed his eyes. “I know. Trust me. I know. It was the worst thing you could have done to me.”

And she’d mocked him once for wanting to run off and be a pirate.

A foolish dream. A boy’s dream.

It went against the grain of everything she’d fought for in her life—to protect her family and sisters and court—and she’d thought him selfish at the time.

It all made sense.

No brother.

A murdered father.

A sister who’d been kept away from him unless necessary.

A mother who’d driven him from his court.

I’d scream and beg for help, but no one came.

No one came….

Amadea had done a masterful job in isolating him from his court, from his family and even from his own heart.

He had no yearning to fight for the Zini court, because to him, they’d been… a weight around his neck. Not family. And despite all she’d lost, she’d grown up with pillow fights with her sisters, and stolen dresses, a mother who’d sing to them at night as she stroked their hair, and a father who put a sword in her hand when she was eight, because he’d known that was what she’d desired most of all.

She would kill to protect everything she had.

He was trying to find his feet within his court after years spent in self-imposed exile.

No wonder the gulf between he and his brother existed.

It felt like she’d just unlocked the key to his heart—and her vengeance.

“Tell me a secret,” Marduk whispered, and she knew he needed to regain the equilibrium between them.

Solveig released another steady breath. “Do you remember the night my sister was crying?”

“Aslaug?”

“I saw you with her in the gardens,” she admitted. “It was the night before you tried to kiss me. But all I could think of was the way you took your cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders, then sat beside her and talked her out of her tears. You had your arm around her shoulders, and my sister looked at you as if you’d hung the moon in the sky.”

Every inch of him stiffened. “Is that why—?”

“I stabbed you when you tried to kiss me?” She arched a brow. “Yes.”

“I was offering her comfort. Not romance. She was upset because she knew I didn’t have any feelings for her. Not the way she wished them to advance. I told her there was someone out there just for her, and she shouldn’t settle upon the first handsome stranger who came along. Or something like that.”

“You were being kind,” Solveig said, drawing her knees up to her chest. She could see it now, in a way she hadn’t been able to at the time.

He was letting Aslaug down gently and trying to assuage her tears. Her sister had been laughing, even as she dashed them from her cheeks, but back then, all Solveig had been able to see was the way he made Aslaug happy.

And then he had tried to kiss her.

And she’d erupted with into a jealous rage because she hadn’t understood any of it, least of all her own feelings.

The heat drained from her cheeks as realization struck her like an arrow to the heart. It had always been easy to hate him. If she hated him, then she did not have to confront the truth in her heart. If she hated him, then she could lash out at him with impunity. She could protect herself. Her pride. Her name. But most of all, her heart.

That fledgling beast that had broken upon her mother’s death and never truly healed.

It was a bitter pill to swallow. “I forgive you,” she whispered.

“What?” His gaze tore back to hers.

“I forgive you.”

His jaw fell open. Hot amber light burned to life in his eyes. “Why?”

Solveig slipped from the wall, and then paused as she straightened her shirt. “I forgive you because it hurts me to continue carrying the weight of it all these years. And because…. I think I understand now. Why you are who you are. And why I am the way I am. And I think I’m starting to understand what happened between us all those years ago.”

13

They spent the afternoon touring the castle, though one of Draco’s guards seemed to be following them.

Never overtly. Simply there every time Marduk paused in a new area of the castle. That might be a problem.

“Can you sense anything?” Solveig murmured as she slipped through the gardens, as cool and serene as a glacier, despite that moment earlier this morning. “I swear you’re leading us in circles.”

“I am.” He paused by a fountain in a walled courtyard and plucked a rose from a nearby bush. “Here you are, my love.”

“I forgive you.”

Those words hammered within his chest with every beat of his heart, but she’d simply closed herself off again, as if she’d bared her heart for a moment and found it too unbearable to continue. Her walls were back in place, her castle ramparts firmly guarded, and she’d hauled up the drawbridge behind those words, as if to pretend they’d never existed.

I won’t forget, Solveig.

You yielded for a second. You let me in. And you can lock me out all you like, but I know your heart is vulnerable now.

She looked distinctly unimpressed as she accepted the rose.

“I left the thorns on,” he teased.

Solveig brought the red flower to her nose and breathed it in, watching him over the top of those petals as if she was waiting for the trap to spring shut around her. Her fingertip stroked one of the thorns thoughtfully, and the muscle in his jaw flexed as he met her dark eyes.

He wanted, quite desperately, to kiss her.

But the others were relying on him to find the key. He couldn’t let them down. Not again.

“There are tunnels beneath the castle,” he told her, trying to focus.

One of her eyebrows rose. “How do you know?”

“Because I can feel Chaos magic beneath us in three different locations. One beneath the northern tower, where Draco and Andromeda reside. One beneath the heart of the keep. And one beneath us here. This is where I sense it the strongest. There’s just one little problem.”

“There’s no way to access such tunnels?”

“Oh, there’s a way, I think. But no. Our friend is back,” Marduk murmured, pushing her back against the castle wall and nuzzling at her throat as if he just wanted a taste of her. He could feel her pulse kick in her throat as his lips grazed her soft skin. “Can you see him? On the castle ramparts?”

Stillness ran through her—a slight tremble—as if she was deliberately trying to restrain any hint of reaction to his touch. “I see him.”

“Good.” He kissed the muscle of her throat, his hand curving over her hip as he whispered in her ear. “There’s a door half-hidden by the ivy beside us. No, no, don’t look…. Don’t give the game away.” He captured her chin, forcing her to stare into his eyes. “I almost missed it the first time around. I want to see why this entire area sends a shiver over my skin. There’s definitely something beneath us. And I think that door will lead us there.”

A hand slid up his nape, curling in his hair. “The key?” Solveig breathed, her body melting into his as if they were just two lovers, stealing kisses in a secluded spot of the gardens.

Evil woman.

“I don’t know. It’s Chaos magic. I can feel it thick and heavy in my abdomen.”

“That’s not magic. Even I can feel that.”

A rough laugh escaped him as the heat pouring into his erection doubled. It rested against her hip, and the way she slid her thumb up the column of muscle in the back of his neck made it difficult to concentrate. “That… is a reaction to our current circumstances. And it’s a spell of some description, though I think you’re the one weaving it around me. But no, I’m not talking about my cock right now.”

Their eyes met again, and he could feel the connection between them.

Like a hammer to the chest.

One that took his breath, his soul.

Her eyes were pure night. He could almost see the stars themselves gleaming in such mesmerizing darkness.

And then Solveig brushed the rose against his lips, her gaze lowering to them almost curiously. “I think I can distract him.”

“Good.” She was distracting him. “How?”

The slightest smile crossed her lips. “All dreki have the gift of at least one element. Yours is Fire, Marduk. Flashy, bold and dangerous. But mine is Air. Stealthy. Subtle. And lethal, if need be.”

“Killing a guard is a bad idea.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s almost as if you think I’m a fool. It can be lethal if I choose to encase you in a bubble of pure Air and slowly deprive you of oxygen. But subtle works in this situation. He’ll never know it’s me.”

“Do it then.”

A faint wind blew her long raven hair behind her.

His shirt stirred, ruffling in the breeze. And hell if his heart didn’t leap, because he could sense that wind caressing every inch of his skin, stirring languorously between his thighs. It called to every inch of him—man and dreki.

Fly with me.

Chase the wind with me.

Forever.

“Watch,” she whispered, brushing the rose against his lips again. “And learn. Because there’s more than one set of eyes watching us.”

A gust of wind tore through the gardens, tearing the petals from her rose.

Someone cried out. The guard, he thought, catching a glimpse of a black cloak fluttering. The guard staggered back, fighting with his cloak as it wrapped itself around his face.

Solveig’s smile held a dangerous curve. “We have ten seconds before he gets free. Any longer and it might be suspicious.”

Marduk jammed his thin dirk inside the lock of the hidden door, heard it click, and then they were slipping inside, plunging into pure darkness.

“Well?” Solveig purred.

Marduk snapped his fingers, conjuring a spark of fire that danced off his fingertips and lit the devastating planes of her cheekbones.

“Impressive,” he admitted.

A finally controlled gust of wind like that was impressive. Dreki could turn the skies into blazing battlegrounds, but for her to control a breeze so minutely meant great skill.

Not so impressive was the sudden roiling of his gut as he stared around him. His cock flagged.

Underground. The stone walls were so smooth they might as well have been carved by dreki wielding the gift of Earth. And the stairs led into a darkened pit.

Marduk swallowed hard.

The walls weren’t going to collapse. They were too smooth. Carved directly out of solid rock. From the indentation in the center of the stairs, enough dreki had traveled this stairwell over the years safely.

And if the roof did collapse, then he was with a dreki who could encase them both in a bubble of Air.

A dreki who may or may not enjoy watching him scream….

No, that thought wasn’t helping.

Solveig stalked past him, her boot heels clicking on stone tiles, and her long legs eating up the ground. The leather breeches she wore did marvelous things to her legs, but he didn’t even think the sight of her ass could distract him right now. “You’ve seen nothing yet. Coming? Or do you want me to hold your hand?”

He forced himself to follow her, his gaze settling between those shoulder blades. This wasn’t the first time he’d ventured underground. He could do it again. He just had to lock it all out and focus on the song of Chaos that wound its way up the stairwell.

“I’m fine.”

Solveig hesitated. “I can go on alone if you wish?”

Kindness? From her?

“Lead on. You won’t know what you’re looking for. I’ll manage.”

“As you wish,” she called over her shoulder, her dark eyes all too knowing.

THE STAIRCASE LED DOWN and down, deep into the earth.

Marduk followed her on stealthy feet, and Solveig had to look behind her several times to ensure he was following. For such a large man, he moved with an incredible grace. He moved as though he’d had plenty of practice in being silent and invisible.

Though there was sweat on his throat, and his cheeks looked pale and clammy.

“Which way?” she asked, as they paused at an intersection.

He closed his eyes, tilting his head one way and then the other. His eyes blinked open and his head turned, a flash of eerie green lighting his irises for a second. “Left.”

He pushed past her, the little flicker of firelight dancing over his shoulder.

No mocking commentary. No endless spill of words from his lips.

Solveig’s eyes narrowed as she considered his earlier revelation. Fear could be paralyzing. She needed him whole and focused. “You never did tell me what you’ve been up to for the last ten years.”

“A little of this, and a little of that.”

She followed him like a silent wraith. “I find it interesting how you deflect such questions about your past.”

He sighed. “I found mountains to climb, Solveig, and canyons to chase the wind through. I soared over the pyramids of Egypt, and sought to climb to the top of the highest mountain in Asia.”

“And you bedded half the women between here and the Hindu Kush.”

He shot her a mild look over his shoulder. “Don’t listen to rumors, Solveig. I like drinking and gambling. I enjoy pleasure. Dreki look at me and instantly suspect all I’m interested in is chasing after a woman.” He cut her off before she could speak. “And maybe I was that sort of youth. Once.”

“You kidnapped a female during her mating ceremony in France,” she pointed out, because she’d made it her business to track him.

“Is that what your resources say?”

“You deny it?”

“No. I kidnapped Khadija from her mating ceremony.” His mouth thinned. “She was barely of age, and her uncle—the dreki warlord of a tribe in Morocco—had arranged an unwanted mating for her. Her mother begged me to rescue her, and I couldn’t just walk away. Khadija is now happily putting arrows through the throats of her uncle’s dreki in the Jbel Saghro mountain range with her grandfather. My smuggler friend, Hassan, is her brother.”

This time, it was her turn to be surprised.

“What?” There was a faint edge of amusement on his lips. “I’m handsome, charming, a rakish, unthreatening dreki prince who can make even the sternest dreki laugh. They watch their females when I’m around, but they never suspect I’m working against them. I’m just a pampered prince, after all. It’s almost too easy.”

Solveig thought her way through everything she’d ever heard about him. “You were caught in a princess’s bedchambers in Germany.”

“Now that,” he said, “is true. I was trying to steal back a relic that was important to a witch in Zagreb, but my information was inaccurate and I climbed through the wrong window. Amelie was happier to see me than I expected, and I had to distract her somehow.”

“You burned down a monastery in the Kingdom of Romania.”

“It was just one tiny little monastery,” he said with a shrug, reaching back to help her down a narrow section of stairs. “It wasn’t as though it was run by a group of monks who’d captured dreki kits and were seeking to ‘burn the devil out of them.’”

Solveig stopped, with her fingers in his. “You’re saying all these rumors of women in your bed are wrong?”

“Oh no, there were women.” He arched a brow at her. “For both of us, clearly. I’m just saying, there may not have been quite as many as the stories say.”

She stared at him.

His ability in the sky was breathtaking. He moved like a dreki who’d learned stealth from the best. He fought better than she’d have expected.

She had never, ever suspected he was more than an arrogant wastrel, and it was a little embarrassing to realize she too, would have underestimated him.

I had visions of being some dashing pirate somewhere….

“What’s wrong?” he teased. “Did I just shatter all your preconceptions?”

“Why do you hide it?”

He continued walking. “Because nobody knows who I am. My friend in Oslo trades far and wide. When people are desperate they know they can contact him, and hire a certain, elusive figure to rescue someone they love, or recover something that was stolen. I like the work. It pays well and I’m good at it.”

It was more than that.

Maybe he liked being the hero. Maybe he felt welcomed for the first time in his life. He risked his life for people and they were grateful.

“You rarely mention your brother, either.”

There. There was the tension in his shoulders. This time she caught a glimpse of his profile as he gave her his attention. “My brother?”

“Rurik.”

For the first time there was a certain heaviness about his steps. “I spent a good portion of my life thinking my brother guilty of my father’s murder. You were the one who forced me to confront certain truths about my mother.”

“I did?”

“We were swimming in a mountain stream, and you said something like ‘my father never did trust your mother’ when I mentioned his death.”

She remembered that moment. That stream. Though her focus had been on other things at the time.

The kiss that had almost happened between them.

“And then my mother tried to have me assassinated.” This time the words were sharp. “It all began to make sense. I knew then that Rurik was innocent.”

“And so you fled. Why did you not go to him?”

He paused at another intersection, before taking the right turn. “I just wanted to escape her rotten court. And Rurik had been gone many years. He’d never…. He’d never once come for us.”

Ah. So there was resentment there.

Or no, perhaps hurt.

She tried to think how old he would have been when his father died….

A boy, waiting for his brother to come back for him.

“Perhaps he didn’t think he could,” she said. “Your mother was very good at isolating those who might cause her damage. And she had many years to seed such guilt through all three of you. I think she made sure that Rurik found himself very alone, and uncertain of the outcome should he dare defy her. Maybe you weren’t the only one who found himself with no allies. Maybe your brother felt that too, and felt it best if he retreated.”

Marduk turned on her. “Maybe he did. But that doesn’t explain why he forgave my father’s murderer and stood him at his right hand.”

From what she’d seen of Rurik’s court, she’d thought it unusual that a male with as much power and strength as the Blackfrost submitted to the king. “The Blackfrost?”

The muscle in Marduk’s jaw flexed as he looked away. “I found out the truth barely a month ago. Mother twisted Sirius’s dreams until he didn’t know what was real and what was not. She made him kill my father.”

Solveig took one final step down, until she was on a level with him. She wanted to see his face. “You don’t forgive him?”

“I don’t know what to feel. I know what she could do to you. I know. But…. Sirius killed my father. He….”

“He?” The word came out softer than she’d intended.

“Every time I look at Sirius, all I can see is my father’s blood splashed all over the tiles.” His voice roughened. “They said his heart had been torn out of his chest.” Another pause. “How can Rurik forgive that? How can he trust him?”

It was more than that, she suspected.

From what she’d seen of the Zini clan, they were trying to weld themselves back together after an enormous fracture within the court. Rurik ruled, and Sirius allowed it, but it was clear the two stood side-by-side.

If she pictured the enormous round table they’d sat at, she could almost see it again. The king on one side with Árdís and Haakon, and then Sirius and Malin…. And Marduk, deliberately taking the seat opposite them all.

Ah.

He thought there was no place there for him. And worse, his anger over his father’s death prevented him from taking that step, and making a place there for himself.

If she’d wanted to destroy Marduk, this would be how she’d do it.

His guilt was a knot around him. Resentment stirred like a hot coal in his gut. It would take very little to push him over a certain edge.

But she was not Amadea.

No. She had her own rules and morals. She was merely able to see pathways within him.

Solveig sighed. “You trust me too much.”

His gaze sharpened.

“You keep forgetting I have vowed to destroy you,” she said with some disgust. “You spill all your secrets like a boy with his first love.”

“Are you trying to say you’re my first love?”

“Oh, please. Do I look like some sort of gullible fool? I am saying…. You shouldn’t trust me like this. You’re virtually handing me the keys to your doom if I chose to take it.”

“Maybe that’s because I don’t think you’re going to destroy me at all.”

“No?”

Marduk captured her fingers and lifted them to his lips. “Because then you’ll never know….”

This time, it was her turn to catch her breath. “Know what?”

He merely smiled and kissed her fingertips, before letting her hand go.

“Know what?”

Marduk scrubbed a hand over his face. “You’re right. I am spilling all my court’s secrets.”

“Know what?” she growled.

He looked at her for a long, heated moment. “One day I’ll tell you. But have you ever wondered why you’re so curious about me?”

“I am curious about you because I have vowed—”

“To destroy me?” His lips kicked up in a faint smile as he took a step toward her. There was barely an inch between them, and her heeled boots put her mouth devastatingly close to his. “You’re the one warning me, Solveig. If you wanted to ruin me, then you’re right. I’ve given you everything you need to be able to do so.” He leaned closer to her, his breath stirring her lips. “You’re lying to yourself. You’re not asking all these questions because of some burning desire to see me undone. Maybe you should think about the real reason behind your curiosity.”

And then he pushed past her. “Are you coming?”

Solveig stared after him, her chest heaving as she dared consider the question he’d asked.

What in the Goddess’s name was she doing?

THEY FINALLY REACHED THE BOTTOM, and Marduk became eerily quiet as they found themselves in an enormous set of cellars.

“This way,” he said, walking slowly as if he was in a trance.

Light began to emanate ahead of them.

Green light.

“What is it?” Solveig whispered, lifting her pilfered torch high as they passed beneath an arch. She’d found it halfway down and he’d lit it for her.

“I don’t know.” Marduk suddenly stopped, blocking her view. “Goddess’s mercy.”

Now she had to see.

Pushing past him, she saw what had caught his attention and froze herself.

There was an enormous bier in the center of the cellar, and at first glance, a statue appeared to lie in repose upon it.

But her breath caught when she saw the chains wrapping around the body. Chaos magic danced in glimmering waves throughout the room, reflecting across the walls in ripples that reminded her of the sea. But it was centered above the body, all of that power focused within an emerald the size of her thumb, which was encased in the hilt of a knife.

A knife that was buried in the center of the statue’s chest.

“What is this?” she whispered, circling the bier slowly.

“It’s not the key,” Marduk murmured, his gaze locked on the emerald intently.

“It looks like a statue of Draco.”

Solveig lifted the torch, sweeping dust away from the statue’s face—

And warm breath caressed her palm.

Solveig yanked her hand back with a hiss. “Sweet goddess.”

“What is it?” Marduk demanded.

She stared down at the unconscious dreki in horror. “It’s not a statue. It’s a dreki. And he’s alive.”

MARDUK PROWLED around the body as Solveig set her torch in a nearby ring.

It was like looking at the Zilittu king himself.

An enormous muscled figure bound in repose, a dagger sticking out of the center of his chest. If he leaned closer, he could almost sense something swirling within that defiant emerald.

Not the key they were looking for.

But as Marduk reached out and touched the emerald, he realized it might be something they could use.

The second his fingers grazed the jewel, a flash of image overtook him. A male’s face, his eyes blinking wide open and locking upon Marduk—

Marduk tore his hand away and clutched it to his chest. “His soul is inside the jewel,” he whispered, swallowing hard. “It has to be Draco’s twin, Scorpius.”

“Scorpius was exiled.”

“And who put about word of that little rumor?” Marduk breathed out unsteadily. “Zilittu lands are impenetrable to outsiders without an invitation. The only way rumor got out was if it was allowed to get out. And from everything I’ve ever heard, Scorpius was the warmonger of the two brothers. If he was exiled to the north, where his alleged army supposedly waits, he wouldn’t just be twiddling his thumbs. He’d have attacked Draco by now.”

“But why go to all this effort? If Scorpius is somehow trapped down here, then why would Draco pretend he wasn’t?”

“That is a very good question.” He prowled around the dusty figure. “Unless… not everyone knows who is down here in the Zilittu cellars.”

“Andromeda?”

It was nice to talk to someone whose mind leaped to the same conclusions his did. “Andromeda.”

“So Draco overthrows Scorpius, trapping his soul within the emerald in that knife. And then he locks him away down here, sends out word that Scorpius escaped, and takes his place on the throne.” A dangerous laugh escaped her. “And now we have the Zilittu king by the balls. I wonder who else knows? Viveka? Or Rune?”

“You’re going to blackmail Draco?”

Solveig’s eyes practically glittered as if he’d giftwrapped an entire throne for her. “I’m going to do nothing until I discover exactly who knows of this, and who might take exception to Scorpius’s apparent daggering.”

Utterly merciless in every way. His gaze slid down her lean figure. He was trapped underground with the soulless body of a dangerous Zillittu prince, and all he could think about was how Solveig’s utter ruthlessness made his cock hard.

There was something wrong with him.

She noticed. “Why are you giving me that look?”

“What look?” His voice came out rough.

“The one that says you’re imagining me naked.”

In answer, he gave her a faint smile.

“Unbelievable. Here I am, plotting vengeance and ruin, and you’re thinking about your cock.”

“I like it when you plot. Your smile is so ridiculously evil when you’re scheming that all I can think about is what your mouth tastes like.”

“Focus,” she snapped.

He arched a brow.

“On this bloody knife!” She gestured toward Scorpius. “Can we use it?”

Marduk hauled his thoughts out of the bedchamber and leaned closer. “It’s embedded in his heart, but he’s still breathing, which makes me think the blade isn’t entirely corporeal.”

“It’s magic?”

“It’s forged of raw Chaos, I think.” Ishtar would have a better idea than he did. But how was he going to get her down here? “Chaos transcends space and time and matter, so it might be embedded in his chest, but physically, it might also not be. If his soul is trapped in that jewel, then maybe the blade itself is merely a link between them.”

“And to remove it—”

“Would break the link. We’d either kill him and leave his soul trapped in the emerald, or we’d break the connection and maybe wake him.”

Solveig stared down at the prince. “We need to—”

The sudden echo of footsteps drifted down the stairwell.

Marduk froze, his gaze locking on Solveig’s.

They weren’t alone.

She reacted faster than he did, waving a hand toward the torch and snuffing it with her magic, before spinning toward the arch that led deeper into the cellars. “This way!”

The sudden shock of darkness left him blind. Marduk groped along the wall, finding the small arch that led to the left.

Blinking, he gradually began to make out shapes, and started hurrying along the enormous cellars.

“Can you see them?” someone demanded behind him.

“Nothing,” another voice called.

“Is that smoke?”

Solveig bumped into him and Marduk hauled her behind a column, and pressed her against the wall, clapping his hand over her mouth. His vision was starting to adjust to the lack of light, and he could just make out the aquiline edge of her nose. He linked with her. “Don’t make a sound.”

He squinted in the direction of the guards.

“What are you doing?”

“Creating a diversion.”

Fire spun to life in his breath, his heart, and he channeled the magic into pure flame—a glimpse of lights flickering in the distance. He held the flames as long as he could from this distance, as the guards shouted and pointed. Marduk eased away from her as the guards hammered after the twinkling lights in the distance. Tension locked his body into a hard line, and as he glanced down, he saw an odd expression on Solveig’s face. “What?”

“That was an exquisitely controlled piece of magic.”

It was almost as if she’d doubted his abilities. “I could burn your drawers right off your body if I wanted to.”

The hot little glare that answered that conjured a grin on his lips.

“Come,” he breathed, tugging at her fingers. “They’ll chase my lights for a while.”

It took them ten minutes before they found another set of stairs. The cellar system seemed riddled with tunnels.

Solveig slipped up them like a wraith ahead of him, his hand occasionally resting in the middle of her back.

Almost there….

He could see light beckoning, and the crushing weight in his chest was starting to lift.

And then a shadow loomed in the light. More footsteps. The rasp of armor.

He captured Solveig’s hand, hauling her back into him.

“Guards ahead,” she sent on a thought-thread.

“Guards behind.”

And it wouldn’t do for either of them to be caught down here.

Especially if their suspicions about the prince in the dungeon were correct.

There wasn’t time to go back to where the tunnel last branched and try and slip away. They were close to the surface here. Too close. Several rooms beckoned off the stairwell. They looked like they’d been chambers, once upon a time.

“If we kill the guards, they’ll know we were up to something.” Solveig bared her teeth in frustration. “Unless there’s somewhere where we can hide—”

“Why is that your first and only response?”

“Because it’s expedient and solves a vast majority of life’s little problems. You have a better plan?”

“Actually, I do. I told you. I’m a reckless, rakish charmer. Try not to stab me, and look like you’re enjoying yourself.” He reached up and tore the top three buttons of his shirt open.

Solveig frowned. “Enjoying my—?”

He captured her mouth in a punishing kiss, slamming her back against the tunnel wall. The taste of her mouth was so sweet and forbidden. And maybe this plan wasn’t just to avoid the guards. Maybe some part of him had caught a glimpse of his intentions, and raced ahead, thinking this idea was a bloody good one, no matter what. Capturing her beneath the thighs, he hauled her up in his arms, until he was able to wrap her hips around his.

Solveig curled a fist in his shirt and then her thoughts were laced with his. “What the hell are you doing?”

“We’re lost. We were looking for some place private—because I couldn’t keep my hands off you—and stumbled down here.”

“This is your plan?”

“Trust me.” His tongue darted against hers. Soft. Entreating. Promising all manner of pleasure if she’d just let him in. “They’re not going to think anything of this if we do it right.”

“And what does ‘do it right’ mean?”

“A little more enthusiasm, if you would.” He slid his palm up over her breast and finally won a gasp from her.

A slightly murderous gasp against his mouth, but still…. “You want enthusiasm?”

Oh, he’d known those words were dangerous.

“Convince me you can’t keep your hands off me. Kiss me.” He lashed her tongue with his. “Kiss me the way you kissed me the day of our mating ceremony. Kiss me as if you can’t get enough of me. Kiss me as if you want to rip my shirt off, and tear my trousers open, and stuff my cock inside your sweet, wet little—”

A hand slid between them, finding the steel of his erection. “Like this?” she purred, biting his lower lip.

Fuck. Marduk swallowed and drew back from her dangerous mouth. Clever little fingers tugged at his buttons, and then her hand was actually slipping inside his trousers, and he nearly died as it curled around his cock.

“I think… something…. Goddess. Yes.”

“You’re so eloquent.” He could hear her laughter in his head. But her thumb was swirling around the head of his cock, and she nibbled on his lip as if she sought to destroy him. “And so big and thick and—”

“Solveig,” he growled, thrusting into her touch.

“Convince me,” she purred in his head. “Kiss me as if you’ve thought of nothing else since out mating day. Kiss me as if you’re desperate for just one more taste. One more touch. Kiss me as if I’ve owned you from the first moment we met….”

The words ignited within him.

Because maybe there was a little bit of truth in them.

He was desperate. Desperate to have her under him. Desperate to taste the hint of passion he’d glimpsed once, before she locked that heated core of passion back within her glacial outer shell.

And he had thought of little else since their mating day.

Their mouths clashed, and he could feel her fighting for control, their tongues lancing against each other in a swift stab and parry. Her body was a battle, and the only way to conquer her—the only way to win—was to hold nothing back.

He forgot everything.

The guards.

The mission.

The plan.

Instead, he kissed her as if the world was burning and this was his last chance to taste forever. He kissed her as if he’d been poisoned and she was the antidote. And maybe, in some ways, he had been. Because the taste of her surged through his veins, bringing him back to life. His heart was tripping over itself, and the pressure in his cock left him lightheaded as she squeezed her hand, and—

“What are you doing down here?” a voice demanded.

A voice that sounded very much like a frustrated, overprotective guard.

The guards. Fuck.

They broke apart with a gasp.

Light flared. A torch.

Marduk winced and tried to shield his eyes, as Solveig set both boot heels on the ground.

“Goddess’s breath,” Marduk growled. “Where the hell did you come from?”

“How did you get down here?” the guard countered.

Marduk fumbled to stuff his eager cock back inside his trousers. He shot Solveig a hard glare. Nothing like leaving him as vulnerable as she could. “We were… uh….”

“Looking for some place private,” Solveig smoothed her own rumpled shirt back into place. She offered the guard a winsome smile. “Someone gets a little needy when he hasn’t had a taste of me for a few hours.” She looked around. “I swear we were just in the garden, were we not? Where the hell did you drag me, Marduk?”

“You shouldn’t be down here,” the guard ground out, though he shared a faint smirk with the dreki beside him.

“Sorry.” Marduk flashed him a winning smile, still tugging his belt into place. “You know how newly mated females are.”

A set of hard nails dug into his backside.

But the guard laughed.

It was one thing to be caught in a place they ought not be. Quite another to be caught with his trousers sliding down the back of his thighs.

“Go on with you,” the guard said, shaking his head. Suspicion died in his eyes. “I won’t mention it. But you ought not stray again.”

The guard would mention it all right, but it would be over a barrel of ale, with a laugh at Marduk’s current predicament. “Thanks.”

The guard gestured up the stairs behind him, and then glanced down the stairs.

Nobody had seen them down there. They might almost get away with it, unless there was some sort of tracker within the other set of guards who’d scented them.

Exhilaration burst through him. The kind that usually only showed itself when he leaped off a cliff, shifting into dreki form at the last moment. The kind that roared through his veins when he was being chased. The kind that wanted to throw Solveig over his shoulder and haul her back to their rooms, where he could set his hands on her again.

His cock ached.

“Solveig.” He stared at her lean back as she slunk up the stairs ahead of him.

“Yes?” She glanced over her shoulder at him.

“This means war.”

Her laughter floated back down the stairs. “I thought you wanted to be realistic? It worked, didn’t it?”

Yes, it had worked, but as he stomped after her, he winced. He could still feel her fingernails digging into his erection, and by the feel of it, it wasn’t going away anytime soon.

14

They’d barely returned to their rooms before the summons came. Only, it came from a different angle than the one she’d expected.

Solveig held the small note Andromeda had sent her, arching a brow at Marduk. “The queen wants to see me.”

Marduk had been through the bath, and his wet, shoulder-length hair clung sleekly to his scalp. In the wake of that kiss, it was terribly distracting. Or maybe that was the towel wrapped around his waist, because he’d clearly given up on discretion. His eyes practically gleamed with the desire to haul her into the bathing chambers and dump her in the bath.

Naked.

“The queen?” The look in his eyes banked like a hearth that still smoldered. There beneath the surface, but pushed aside in the wake of such news. “What does she want?”

“She wishes an audience.”

“Draco?”

Solveig tapped the letter against her lip. “I don’t think so. I think if the king knew we’d been caught in the tunnels where his brother is ensconced, then he’d be a little more direct.”

Grabbing a second towel, Marduk scrubbed it through his hair. “You’ll be careful.”

“The queen’s not going to attack me. She knows who I am.”

Their eyes met.

“Be careful,” he warned.

Solveig paused in front of him. Every inch of him lit with tension as if he wasn’t entirely certain what she intended. “Always,” she promised, before tucking the edge of his towel back within itself. “Here. You’re going to lose it.”

Marduk froze.

Her knuckle brushed against the hot, sleek skin of his abdomen. Solveig looked up, and his gaze held her hostage.

Both of them grew still.

The room fell into silence. She barely dared take a breath. But she forced herself to smile as she withdrew her finger from the lip of the towel around his waist, and idly trailed her fingernail across his chiseled abdomen.

“There was a part of me that wondered if what I felt the day of our mating was a fever dream,” he breathed.

“And was it?”

His lashes grew heavy as his gaze dropped to her mouth. “No. It wasn’t. You taste like a drug. Wild, addicting, dangerous. And you feel like you’re going to ignite under my touch.”

She dug her fingernail into the hard muscle beneath his navel. “Never,” she promised.

A dangerous smile curled over his mouth, as he tossed the second towel aside. “We’ll see, Solveig. I’m not the only one who aches. I know I’m not. Because I could hear the catch in your breath, and I could feel the way your nails dug into me. You’re fighting a war on both fronts.” He leaned closer, his lips almost grazing her ear. “And you’re going to lose, because you can’t fight your own need too.”

A little flutter went through her abdomen. But she hated the idea that he saw her as such easy game. “Do you know what keeps my strength up?”

She trailed her finger lower, letting it catch in the towel again.

Amber flame turned his irises molten. “What?”

“The thought that when this mating is dissolved,” she purred, “it will break you to know that you couldn’t have me. You will dream of me forever, Marduk. Every night you will yearn. And it will ache far more than anything I feel now.” She couldn’t stop herself from stroking her finger lower, trailing her nail along the hard ridge that tented behind the towel. “That is true vengeance, Marduk. And I will have it.”

“I thought you’d forgiven me?”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to surrender. Nor does it mean I won’t bring you to your knees.”

She broke away with a laugh, just as he reached for her.

“Oh no,” she called, over her shoulder. “I have a prior engagement with the queen. And you—” a swift glance down his body “—look like you have a meeting with your hand. Make sure you dig your nails in a little, my love. Because that’s how I’d do it.”

“War,” he growled, under his breath.

Solveig was still laughing as she slipped from the room.

HEATED voices spilled from within the queen’s chambers as Solveig paused in front of the door. The guard there gave her a stern look.

Matters were afoot in the Zilittu clan.

“Perhaps you should let them know I’m here,” she suggested.

“I—"

The door slammed open and then the Zilittu warlord, Talon, collided with her. He captured her forearms in order to avoid knocking her off her feet.

“My apologies, Your Highness.” He shot a sharp look over his shoulder as if to curse someone within the room for his haste. “I wasn’t aware you were there.”

“Apology accepted,” Solveig mused as he set her free. “After all, it sounds as though you’ve already caught your share of condemnation.”

He gave her a curt nod. “Enjoy your visit with the queen.”

And then he strode past her, still bristling with anger.

Solveig watched him go. He served the same purpose for the Zilittu as the Blackfrost did for the Zini clan, and she for the Sadu. But where the Blackfrost was an enormous, almost piratical storm of barely leashed fury, Talon was ice cold. A leather thong leashed his mass of honey brown hair into a knot on the top of his head, but he was clean-shaven, whereas the Blackfrost seemed to own a permanent rasp of stubble along his jaw.

It would be interesting to see the two of them go to war.

The Blackfrost’s accolades marked him as the most dangerous dreki in the north, but Talon was fast making a name for himself as a warlord to watch. Cold, ruthless, emphatically loyal to Draco.

Maybe he’d been the one who sank that dagger within Scorpius’s chest.

Solveig glanced at the guard in amusement. “Perhaps now?”

He gave a hasty knock on the half-open door. “Your Highness, Princess Solveig of the Sadu is here to see you.”

The flurry of conversation within the room ceased abruptly.

“Send her in,” Andromeda called, and the guard swung the door wide.

It was immediately clear who’d been doing the arguing.

Viveka paced in front of the fireplace, practically spitting with rage, even as Andromeda reclined on a daybed, sipping wine with a slightly amused expression. The queen wore a mauve gown, which set off her dark skin nicely, and her fingers were bedecked with gold rings. She glittered like a dreki queen who’d been swimming in the royal vault, and a collared lynx purred by her feet.

Viveka, however, looked like her hand was itching to rest on the hilt of her knife. The princess’s golden-brown hair hung in loose tangles down her spine, and she wore a white silk shirt with ruffles down the center. Solveig glanced down at the princess’s brown leather boots. Potential enemies or not, she was going to have to find out who made them. They were gorgeous.

“Solveig,” Andromeda came to her feet and set the wine aside, a genuine smile blooming on her face. “You came.”

“Barely.” She glanced at Viveka, tempted enough to test the room. “I was almost mown down by a certain glacier in the hall.”

Viveka growled under her breath. “Please tell me that this is not the only court where certain arrogant, stubborn males cannot bend their necks even once?”

Solveig eased herself into the chair Andromeda gestured her to. “I think it’s a universal frustration among dreki females. I have a particularly stubborn prince of my own. Dare I ask?”

Viveka threw her hands up in the air. “How long do you have? Our arguments began the day I was born.”

“Or the day you came of age,” Andromeda muttered into her wine.

“What?” Viveka turned to her sister-in-law.

“Nothing.” But the queen’s eyes sparkled as she met Solveig’s gaze. “Maybe he’s not the only one being stubborn. If you didn’t argue with him all the time….”

“How else am I going to earn an ounce of independence?” Viveka threw herself into the chair opposite them, and slung one knee over the other. “If Talon had his way, I would be locked in the tower. Forever.” She rolled her eyes at Solveig. “Apparently, I am not allowed to take my morning ride with strangers in the keep. Everyone knows the Zini are bound by their ridiculous sense of honor. They’re not going to accost me in the forest, and if they did, I am perfectly capable of protecting myself. No insult intended.”

“Ah.” It was starting to make a great deal of sense now. Solveig accepted the glass of wine Andromeda poured for her. It was a servant’s task, but these were Andromeda’s rooms and to be served by her own hand was a sign of great welcome. “None taken.”

“He offered to ride with you.” Andromeda still seemed amused.

“He doesn’t ride with me.” Viveka made a small sound of frustration in her throat as she accepted the glass of wine off her queen. “He rides behind me. A good twenty paces. As is proper between warlord and princess.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “It’s not as though he taught me to bloody well wield a sword when I was a young girl. It’s like he thinks I ought to set my sword down, put a gown on, and simper at some male.”

“Maybe he likes to admire your figure from behind?” Solveig suggested politely.

Viveka spat a mouthful of wine back into her cup, and choked. “You speak as though he has a thought in his head besides honor, duty and my brother before all else.”

“I find there are other ways to bring them to their knees. Literally.” Solveig smiled into her wine. “But that does require a little penance on your own knees first.”

Viveka spluttered, her cheeks igniting with heat. “I would never. Not with that enormous elk-headed fool.”

“Never say never. There is one certain way to make ice melt, after all.”

“Set it on fire?” Viveka asked, snapping her fingers and producing a flame.

Interesting. The Zilittu tended to be prone to wielding Air and Water. Fire was a rare gift, found in few courts. Something to file away for future reference. “Well, that’s one way to deal with a walking glacier. However, I don’t think your brother would approve if you set his warlord on fire.”

“Maybe just his bed,” Viveka muttered. “With him in it.”

“I’m starting to wonder if you’ve already succeeded in that.”

Andromeda laughed.

Viveka cut them both a glare. “You’re as bad as she is.”

The laughter set them all at ease, but Solveig had to wonder if this entire setup was deliberate, in order to win her over, particularly when she saw the look Viveka gave her queen.

“It works though?” Viveka finally asked. “To bring a prince to his knees?”

“I am currently… in the midst of such negotiations.” Solveig gave a shrug. “As I said, he’s stubborn.”

Andromeda glanced down as if the depths of her wineglass held mysteries only she could decipher. Viveka hovered a little protectively over her sister-in-law.

“But you do desire it?” Viveka met her eyes. “To bring Marduk to heel?”

Ah. So that was where this was going. Solveig silently cursed Draco for following her into the gardens that night. It was far too dangerous for a dreki to lie, so maybe there’d been some truth in his statement that Andromeda sought an end to their mating, but she wasn’t entirely certain if such a desire came from the queen’s longing to return home—or from her frustration with her mate.

Dangerous waters to tread.

Because Viveka was clearly on the side of her sister-in-law.

“I have always desired to bring Marduk to his knees.” She wrinkled her nose. “Our relationship is complicated. But frustratingly, he is the only dreki who… who gets beneath my skin.”

There. Truth.

“I know that feeling.” Andromeda lifted her wine and drained it. But there was a sense of relief about her as she lowered the glass and said brightly, “Another glass?”

“Another glass,” Solveig conceded, with a respectful—and knowing—nod to the queen.

APPEARANCES MUST BE KEPT.

They had sought her out in order to ascertain if she was a threat to Andromeda’s position, but once the truth was gleaned, Solveig found the conversation much easier. Platters were brought, and the three of them laughed over the frustrations of being female in a court of male dreki, and the ways in which to manage them. Lighthearted, gossipy talk that went nowhere, and was dangerous to none of them.

However, she too had her purpose in coming here.

Solveig plucked a piece of dark rye from the Smørrebrød platter, and added a sliver of pickled herring to it, waiting for the precise moment when the conversation lulled. “I am curious about something, if you don’t mind me asking…?”

Andromeda waved a languid hand. “Please. You are our guest.”

She tried to think how to word it. “You know more about the mystical than I do. I have always been taught that when a dreki dies, and we set their body to the bonfire, their spirit rises to ride the horizon forever. But I heard a story about a body that was burned, and no spirit arose. Is it possible?”

Viveka didn’t quite tense, but her fingers tightened on the pear she was carving. “The goddess gifts those who lived their life with honor by an endless flight on the horizon. They’re the ones we see each night when the winter nights are long and cold. Forever seeking the winds. And those that dishonor the goddess are absorbed back into her. She was the one who gave them the spark of their soul. And She is the one who will crush even the merest remnants of it, if they betray her teachings. They cease to exist.”

“So this dreki was absorbed into the goddess?”

Viveka bit her lip. “Most likely—”

“No. There would have been signs,” Andromeda broke in. “A spirit is not released from the body until we are returned to fire. We say the fires burn clean when the soul is pure, but for those who will be extinguished, there is a dark, ruddy-colored smoke, and the fires flicker. You will see a dark form rise, a spirit in anguish. But it will be trapped in the flames, and not free to rise to the sky. The fire consumes it. If no spirit arose then….” She looked troubled. “It was because there was no spirit to rise.”

Solveig nibbled on her slice of bread. “How would that happen?”

“There is a darker side to Chaos magic,” Andromeda admitted. “A Chaos practitioner can steal another’s soul and trap it for their bidding. If the body dies, no spirit arises, for they are cursed into kunuk la’atzu.”

“Seal.” Solveig managed to roughly translate. Her Sumerian was limited. “Seal of….”

“The spirit world.”

She’d never heard such a term before.

“It’s a prison of the soul,” Viveka said. “An object, usually, that a practitioner creates a spirit world inside, where one can trap a soul. There were many seals created in centuries past, though I believe the making of them is lost to this era. It was forbidden in many cultures. They burned the books that spoke of it, and destroyed those kunuk la’atzu that they found.”

“What would one of these objects look like?”

Suspicion darkened Viveka’s eyes. “I don’t know. They called them soulstones.”

“A rock?”

“I don’t know. It’s forbidden to know of such things.”

But Andromeda knew. Once again, her gaze sought her wineglass. Solveig recognized it, though to push now, when they were already suspicious, might prove dangerous.

She considered everything she knew of Queen Amadea’s death. “Could a dreki do it to themselves? Could they trap their soul inside this kunuk la’atzu in order to escape persecution?”

Even Andromeda’s eyebrows rose at that. “It is possible, though I doubt such a practitioner would do it. You would be trapped in there. Possibly forever.”

“Why do you ask?” Viveka leaned toward her, her gray eyes glittering. “Do you know someone who has done this?

“No, it’s just a story,” she murmured, realizing she’d stirred their suspicion too far. “It seemed so farfetched, but it has been toying at my mind.” She lifted her glass. “More wine?”

The two of them shared a look.

“More wine,” Andromeda agreed, though her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

MARDUK FOUND Ishtar sitting in a window nook, watching the courtyard stir below her. No matter where they were, she seemed to find private little corners where she could watch the world go by. She was no longer trapped in a cave, but he wasn’t entirely certain she’d truly rejoined the world.

They’d spent years apart, but these past few months had been easy.

It felt somewhat akin to sharing a soul. They didn’t even have to speak. He could merely rest his shoulder against hers, and the simple effort of existing became uncomplicated.

She was home in a way that he’d never felt before. She was peace. She was a breath of calming air. And he’d been so busy of late, that he hadn’t truly had a chance to talk to her.

“Do you mind if I sit?”

Ishtar shook her head and gestured to the stone beside her.

“Can you sense anything?” he asked. “Any enormous spikes of Chaos magic?”

“Many.” Her brows drew together. “There’s a beating pulse of power beneath the entire castle, though I don’t know if it is a relic, or merely the echo of thousands of Chaos-workings over the centuries.”

“I can sense three.”

“I can sense hundreds.”

A sigh escaped him. “I knew it couldn’t be that easy.”

“The queen consort asked me to dine with her,” Ishtar said. “She may tell me more about the key. She’s very nice.”

“Andromeda is a powerful dreki queen who is mated to a ruthless king. She may be very nice. She may also be working hand in hand with Draco, and I don’t trust him at all.” He kissed her forehead. “I wouldn’t mention it, if I were you.”

“I just want to help.”

“You are helping.”

Ishtar drew her knees to her chest. “Rurik was angry that I opened the portal, wasn’t he?”

“Ishtar….” He blew out a breath. “He’s not angry at you. Never you. You were locked away in a bloody cave. Tyndyr took advantage of you. He lied to you and used your power to start a war. None of this is your fault.”

“I just don’t want to make anyone angry.”

“You don’t. And you’re helping, more than you could ever know. Árdís is so new to her power that she can barely wield it. I can sense Chaos, but I’m no practitioner. You’re our secret weapon, angel. If anyone is going to find the key, it’s going to be you.”

Her sudden hug caught him by surprise. She almost strangled him. Marduk blinked, and then hugged her back.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“I do, however, think you should take someone with you when you visit Andromeda.”

She peered at his face as if trying to decipher an ancient text. “Do you think I cannot handle myself?”

“No. I used to worry about you, but if anyone tries to hurt you, you can simply vanish yourself.” He’d never get used to it. One moment Ishtar was there—flaring like a supernova in the back of his mind—and the next, she was gone. The bond between them went silent, and it felt like she’d been ripped from his life. “I just want you to be careful. You want to trust them, I know you do, because you’ve never been around others with similar powers, but the Zilittu—”

“Can’t be trusted.”

“Maybe you can take Solveig.” If anyone was going to put the Zilittu queen through an inquisition, it was going to be her.

Ishtar toyed with the hem of her skirt. “I don’t think I would like that."

His gaze cut to her.

He’d noticed that Ishtar avoided Solveig. The princess had been unfailingly polite to his sister—or they would have had words—but Ishtar tended to grow quieter around those she didn’t trust.

“I trust Solveig.” Despite her ruthless nature, she would never lift a hand against the innocent. She had her own set of rules. “I know you find her manner intimidating—”

“I just…. I don’t want to be alone again.” Ishtar rubbed the hem of her skirt between thumb and forefinger, and then blurted. “I don’t want to lose you. And I know I will. I know you belong to her, and….”

“Hey.” Marduk drew back to examine her face. “You won’t lose me. You won’t be alone. I’m always here. I promise. Solveig and I are mated, but it’s not the sort of thing that excludes all other relationships in my life.” His voice roughened. “And we’re not…. We’re not each other’s true flames.”

Kataru libbu was an alliance of souls and hearts—dreki who claimed they were put on this world to be another’s match. True flames born in a firestorm together.

An old myth said the goddess created dreki to be two halves of a whole. They spent their entire lives searching for the one who would complete them, and while not every dreki was that lucky, some few found wholeness.

It was something every dreki secretly yearned for.

But males always knew first.

And there was… nothing.

Sometimes it took time, but he’d known her for ten years. It would have happened by now.

Ishtar’s green eyes met his over the top of her knees, and he knew the moment was important to her. “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.” Her voice softened to a whisper. “You won’t always be there.”

His heart dropped like a stone. She could see threads of the past, the current and the future. Not entire moments, but just enough to make out an event.

She’d never been wrong before.

“I’m not going to die,” he promised. “Not yet.”

“Oh no, not yet. But….” She bit her lip. “But I have to go away. And I have to let you go.”

“What? Where are you going? What do you mean by ‘let me go?’”

“You belong to Solveig and I stole you.” Sadness turned her green eyes dark. “I didn’t mean to, but I was so scared and you were the only thing I knew.”

“Ishtar?” She wasn’t making sense. Stole me?

“I wanted to stay in Mother’s womb, but I couldn’t. I knew she would hate me when she saw me.”

“Ish….” He wanted to wrap her in his arms and squeeze her so hard that she’d never doubt herself again, but he knew she’d feel confined. “She didn’t deserve you.”

“I didn’t want to be born. Mother loved me while I was inside her. I was her promise. She used to rub her belly and tell me that. But she wouldn’t love me when she saw me. And I was so scared that I reached for you, and you reached back, and you’ve been with me ever since.”

He fell still. Dreki babies were more sentient than humans, but there was no way Ishtar could have—

Unless she was future-walking even then.

She was forged of raw Chaos magic, and who knew what her limitations were?

“Our mother was a bitch.” If he could go back in time and throttle Amadea for daring to plant such doubts in his sister’s head, he would have. “It was never love she felt for us. Only a twisted version of it. But you are loved, Ishtar. I love you. And so does Rurik and Árdís—”

“And the baby.”

“Árdís’s baby?”

“Yes. Can’t you hear her? I sing to her sometimes, and she sings back.”

Sing? Did she mean Chaos? “So Árdís is going to have a little girl.” And she might wield her mother’s magic. “Does she know?”

“Árdís wouldn’t hear her song?” Ishtar asked.

“Don’t tell her,” he warned. “Just in case she doesn’t know.”

“I won’t.”

Marduk smiled at her. “I love you, you know? And if you need me, then I’m right here. I will always be right here—”

She opened her mouth.

“Even if whatever is going to happen happens. I’m your brother. I will always protect you. I will always love you. And I will always be here for you, no matter what.”

Ishtar considered it. “I just want a couple more days with you.”

His stomach fell. “You’re not going to be in any danger, are you?”

She shook her head. “I need to do this. It’s the only way we win the war.”

He hated these moments. He’d spent most of his life searching for her, but he couldn’t smother her. She’d been locked away for her own “protection” for years, and he wouldn’t do that to her.

A commotion echoed up the stairwell.

Marduk’s head whipped toward that direction, and he slowly pushed himself to his feet. Call him an untrusting bastard, but loud noises in a castle like this made him nervous.

Three Zilittu dreki thundered up the stairs, spears held low. Marduk wished he had more on him than a dagger. “What’s going on?”

“We’ve found them!” one bellowed down the stairs.

Another drew his sword.

Marduk stepped between the guards and Ishtar. “You dare break guest right and draw your sword on your king’s cousins?”

“Don’t you speak to me of guest right.” The soldier in the lead pressed his lips together. “My king has insisted upon your presence. Both of you. There’s been a murder.”

“A murder?” Marduk’s heart dropped. But then he saw the dreki guard’s face. Not one of theirs. It had to be Zilittu. “Who?”

IT HAD ONCE BEEN a young woman.

Marduk’s steps slowed as he beheld the husk on the floor in front of him. The last time he’d seen a body like this had been in Egypt, when some idiotic British tomb-raiders had broken open a sarcophagus.

Or when Marthe was found.

Andromeda knelt by the husk, her fingers trembling as she reached out and brushed withered blonde hair away from the woman’s face. “Kirstin.”

“What happened to her?” Marduk whispered.

Andromeda’s hands glowing faintly with Chaos magic as she hovered them over the body. She looked up in shock. “Kirstin was one of our most powerful practitioners, but there’s… nothing there anymore. Her body should still resonate with magic, but it’s as if she’s been sucked dry.”

Tension slid through him. There was one reason and one reason only why he and Ishtar had been hauled down here.

He wasn’t a particularly violent dreki.

He’d rarely felt the protective, possessive urges other males felt, nor had he bothered to fight for territory.

But as the king turned to look at him, Marduk stepped between him and Ishtar and looked him in the eye. “Don’t even suggest it.”

A muscle in Draco’s jaw kicked. “The last person who was seen with Kirstin was your sister.”

“She couldn’t have done this.”

“My mate assures me that only a Chaos-wielder of significant strength could have overwhelmed Kirstin.”

“She wouldn’t have done this.” Marduk shook his head, trying to find the words. Words that, for once, escaped him.

Ishtar stepped closer to the body. “What happened to her?”

It was startling to hear her voice in company. She spoke aloud to him, but rarely in front of others.

“It’s all right,” he said, moving to intercept her. It was entirely possible she’d never seen someone die before.

“She’s silent,” Ishtar said. “She doesn’t sing anymore. Why is there no song?”

“Why—?” Draco’s face hardened.

But Andromeda pushed him out of the way. Empathy filled her dark eyes. “She has gone to ride the horizon with our brethren.”

“But why is she empty? It’s gone. The song is gone. Every dreki has a spark of the song to some degree.” Ishtar looked to Draco. “His song is quiet and angry, like the crashing waves of the sea.” Toward Andromeda. “And yours is wild and beautiful, like a storm rolling over the horizon. And Marduk’s is a hint of laughter; a trickling brook babbling over stones. Her song is silent, as if it’s been ripped from her.”

Marduk could see the king’s anger sharpening with every word. He needed to get her out of here.

But Andromeda beat him to it. “Her song has been ripped out of her? What do you mean? Do you think… someone has taken her magic?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” Ishtar’s fingers curled into fists, and she continued shaking her head. “I’m tired. Can I go?”

“Not yet,” Draco said.

But Marduk put his hand to the king’s chest. “My sister is weary. And you’re not going to bother her with your baseless accusations. We don’t know who did this.”

His heart skipped a beat.

First Marthe. Now Kirstin.

He needed to talk to the others.

“I opened my lands to another clan for the first time in centuries,” Draco said. “And this happens. Why would I not suspect the perpetrator to have come from the Zini delegation?”

“Because I hear your twin brother is in exile, and apparently he’d love to tear you from your throne.” Marduk noted that Draco didn’t so much as flinch at the words. “Your uncle is also out there. And if I were to name a list of those who might wish to see the great king of the Zilittu humbled, I’m afraid the Zini wouldn’t be at the top of it.” He glanced once more at the body. “You have my condolences. But we had nothing to do with this.”

“I will find her killer,” Draco promised.

“If you wish assistance, then I am more than willing to offer it. Ishtar, do you want to sit with Árdís?”

“No. I want to go to my rooms.”

He’d spent enough afternoons arguing with her to know that once she set her mind to something, she wouldn’t change it. Marduk arched a brow at Draco. “Are we done here?”

“Perhaps in the morning, I might be able to speak to her?” Andromeda asked. “I can’t sense anything, but Ishtar might be able to help me discover who did this.”

“In the meantime, I want this kept silent.” Draco glanced at the guards. “My people are still growing used to having strangers in the keep. It wouldn’t be wise for too many to know what happened here.”

15

Dinner was a terse affair. Solveig had managed only five minutes alone with Marduk—just enough time to tell him what she’d learned from Andromeda—before he broke the brutal truth to her.

Another young woman had been murdered.

And Draco’s suspicions fell upon them.

In the wake of Kirstin’s death, Haakon had insisted that Árdís and Ishtar dine in their rooms. Which meant that Sirius, Malin, Elin, Andri, Solveig and Marduk were sent to entertain the king and his court. They had to be even more careful with their tongues this evening. Even more watchful.

Elin seemed to be the only one thrilled at the prospect. A pretty flush highlighted her cheeks as she laughed at something Draco said, and Solveig noticed the anguished look young Andri sent her.

“Your cousin is in love,” she whispered, leaning over and stabbing a piece of Pinnekjøtt off Marduk’s plate. He’d been meticulously slicing the salt-cured lamb off its rib, and now the meat itself was fair game. It was also a blatant sign she saw herself as in control of the relationship between them. “Is there any chance he’s going to launch over the table and grab the king by the throat? Or is that merely an affliction you suffer?”

“Andri’s not in love. It was a flirtation that went nowhere. He’s merely nursing his wounded pride.” Marduk slid a piece of kumla onto his fork and held it out to her with a slight challenge in his eyes. “Elin flirts with every male that moves.”

“Even you?”

“Thankfully, no. She also tends to avoid Sirius, though I think that has more to do with her sister. Elin thinks Sirius is a monster, and she and Malin argued.”

Solveig eyed the offering. To eat directly from his fork was complicated. It might be seen as an intimacy a male offered a beloved mate—tradition stated that males would bring their mates food to show they could protect and feed them and any future offspring—but it was also an indication he considered himself the dominant partner.

To deny him would be a statement of rejection.

Solveig’s eyes narrowed at how deftly he’d played her, but she accepted the bite of potato dumpling, her teeth scraping on the tines.

And returned to watching the byplay, ignoring his satisfied smile.

The bastard always pushed her.

“Andri’s in love,” she mused as she swallowed. “You can see it in his eyes. If it was merely pride, he’d have challenged the king by now, but he’s spent more time staring into his goblet of wine. It hurts him to see this.”

Marduk leaned closer, his shoulder brushing against hers. “Why the interest in my cousin?”

“Not so much your cousin,” she murmured, “but your court.”

His eyebrow asked a question.

“Two Chaos-wielders dead within a month of each other in two separate courts. The only consistent theme appears to be the Zini clan.”

Or was one of the Zini a killer?

A pained expression flickered across his face. “My… mother….”

“Andromeda confirmed it. Dreki do not become ghosts. And I doubt your mother would have trapped her own soul forever in a soulstone.”

“No.” His mouth twisted. “Not unless she was certain she could escape.”

Solveig glanced under her lashes at Draco. “Speaking of such things, do you think that knife we saw….”

“I need Ishtar to have a look at it,” he cut her off, lacing his hand over hers. “And I need to speak to the others, the second we have a chance. Too many eyes and ears right now.”

Fingertips stroked down her spine. A thumb brushed against her ribs, and then it was trailing lower, learning the curve of her hip. She couldn’t breathe. Her corset was too tight, the dreki within her feeling as though it wanted to punch through her skin.

Solveig shot Marduk a glare, baring her teeth.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered.

“More of this foolishness?”

His lips brushed the curve of her shoulder, skating against her neck. But it was the way his hand curled over her thigh that almost did her in. “Don’t make me mark you.”

Every inch of her was stiff as her heart warred with her body. “If you dare sink your teeth into my throat, I will return the favor. And I won’t be playing.”

“Who said anything about playing?” His breath stirred the hair tucked behind her ear, his fingers still caressing her spine with devastating impact. “And I wouldn’t presume, though you’re welcome to mark me anytime you like.”

Solveig drew back until they were nose-to-nose.

Was he serious?

Dreki lovers were possessive, but there were many different layers of possession. A casual lover was never granted marking rights. It was designed for a dreki to show that a female belonged to him, and vice versa. To mark another’s skin was an incredibly intimate privilege.

Solveig captured his chin in her fingers, staring into his eyes. Heat flared there, turning the already amber hue of his irises to brilliant golden flame. She could see the gift of Fire within him. A rare gift bred through certain bloodlines—goddess-blessed they sometimes called it—and every court in the land would be desperate to have him bred to one of theirs. For a second, the look threatened to turn more intimate—sometimes you could almost see through a dreki’s eyes to the heart of the creature within, monstrous and powerful and possessive when roused….

Possessive?

Was it because Draco was in the room?

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered.

Marduk never looked away from her as he kissed her fingertips. “Are you not my mate? My love? The heart of my clan’s alliance with yours?”

Her heart skipped a beat.

“Always irreverent. Is everything a joke to you?” She pushed away from him, slipping to her feet. She wasn’t in the mood to be toyed with tonight. Most of the time she had her armor engaged, but there was something about his words that arrowed directly into her heart.

He captured her wrist. “Where are you going?”

“I need some air.”

And then she tore herself free and stalked from the hall, though she couldn’t quite shake the sensation of Marduk’s fingers digging into her thigh.

THE COOL EVENING breeze skimmed through Solveig’s hair as she stirred her fingers through the fountain.

It was easier to breathe out here.

Today’s encounters had dealt her a blow. It was one thing to agree to this fiasco for political expediency, but the more time she spent with him, the more she… liked him.

She had sworn an oath to the goddess that she would kill Marduk within the year. Without his bloody heart clenched in her fist, she could not return home.

And there was a part of her that no longer wished him dead.

Solveig closed her eyes. You don’t want him dead. At all.

“What were you thinking?” her father’s voice whispered in her memories. “I warned you never to make such a reckless promise. The goddess shall not be cheated.”

“Whoever said I intend to cheat her?”

What a fool she’d been. She’d accused Marduk of impulsiveness, but was she any better?

She couldn’t go home without his heart.

And she could no longer kill him—if she’d ever been able to.

Which meant all her dreams had vanished in a cloud of ashes, and she had no one to blame but herself.

A shadow flickered beneath the archway leading into the gardens.

Marduk.

He’d followed her and then waited at the entrance to the gardens, giving her some semblance of privacy.

What she wouldn’t give to simply wing her way out of this mess, before she let this feeling within her grow too entrenched.

But that was not her way.

“You are a warrior queen,” she whispered to herself. “So get on your feet and fight.”

It helped.

Solveig braced herself and then started the long return.

Slipping down the stone stairs, she stared at Marduk defiantly. “I thought you would be eating and drinking and dancing merrily. What are you doing here?”

“I upset you,” he said, staring at her with his hands in his pockets. “But I’m not entirely certain how.”

“It was nothing.”

Marduk moved to intercept her. “Don’t do that. Please. Is that not how you spent ten years hating me?”

How to tell him that she feared her feelings for him were stronger than she’d ever let herself believe?

Simple.

She didn’t.

“I don’t like your jealousy.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were. You’ve had your hands all over me all evening.” She cut him off before he could retort. “And if it was because you couldn’t keep your hands off me, it wouldn’t have started in the Great Hall. You don’t like it when he watches me.”

A muscle leapt in his jaw and he looked away. “Do you… wish to encourage his advances?”

“Draco’s?”

“Yes,” he growled out, his jaw clenching and then unclenching. “He is king of his clan. Ruthless. Charming—”

“Ridiculously handsome,” she suggested, because she wasn’t entirely above taunting him.

Marduk gave her a flat stare.

“If a handsome face could charm my heart, I’d have fallen head over heels for you ten years ago. I desire more than a pretty face in a mate.”

There was no response.

But she could feel the fire raging within him and see him fight against it with everything he had. Finally, he said, “If you truly wished to make an alliance with him, I would not stand in your way. I would… I could sunder this agreement between us here and now.”

The words stole her breath.

It could be advantageous for her clan.

The Zilittu were strong and ruthless, a constant threat to the north. In a single moment she would silence such a threat and bind it to her court with chains of iron.

No, shrieked the creature inside her, the one that tore and ravaged at her heart with violent claws. No. It would be a cage. It would be wrong in all the ways that mattered.

And she would never escape the feeling that she had chosen the wrong course.

But what was the right course?

“You would do that? I thought we were to present an allied front? I thought I was ‘yours.’ You made a great display of it last night.”

He’d been making a very good display of it tonight too.

There was something in his eyes that she couldn’t read. “Politically, my brother would remind me this idea is a nightmare for the Zini.”

“Then why would you make such an offer?”

“Because I stole your future,” Marduk admitted, “with my careless words. And as much as it pains me to even consider the concept, if there was something there for you with Draco, if you could find the future you desire, then I would not stand in your way again.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You would be a terrible king.”

He drew back as if slapped. “Pardon?”

The first few drops of rain slapped against her skin. “You think with your heart instead of your head—”

“I was trying to—”

“Apologize. Yes, I know.” I know. But where did that leave her? Solveig paced. “Goddess, you’re so arrogant. You stole my future? My future is in my hands, Marduk, and while you humiliated me once, you had nothing to do with the rest of my life choices.”

His shoulders straightened, rain slicking the soft linen of his shirt to his golden skin. “I wasn’t trying to say I did—”

“And if I chose to pursue the promise in Draco’s eyes?” She turned on him. “Then make no mistake. I would. But quite frankly, male dreki have done enough damage to my life already. Why would I wish to saddle myself with another one? One is enough, and it seems I can’t even get rid of him.”

“I’ll wear the first part of that, but if you’d truly wished to get rid of me, you could have done so long ago.”

“Unfortunately, you seem to keep tangling yourself in my life.”

His hand splayed over the wall beside her head, and he leaned closer, caging her in with his proximity. “Do I? Because I seem to recall that you had me dragged back to your court in chains.”

Her fist clenched. “Vengeance—”

“Is the excuse you keep throwing in my face, but I’m not entirely certain it’s the truth.”

“And what do you think the truth is? That I was pining for you? That I desired you so much I couldn’t let you go?”

The words left her breathless.

Because she hadn’t been able to let him go, and she still didn’t understand why.

“Ask me,” he demanded. “Ask me for a secret.”

Solveig leaned back against the wall, but there was nowhere to go, nowhere to escape the overwhelming press of his scent.

“Fine,” she grated out. “Tell me a secret.”

Marduk’s eyes turned molten, and his gaze dropped to her lips. “I would have chosen you. That first time, I would have chosen you.”

Solveig sucked in a sharp breath.

“If you want to know the truth”—his voice roughened as he captured her face in his hand, his thumb rasping over her cheek—“I could no sooner have chosen one of your sisters as my mate than I could have stopped breathing. My fierce, sweet nemesis. It was you. It’s always been you, from the moment I laid eyes upon you that first time.”

The mess of emotion churning within her pushed her right to the edge. “You had no intentions of being mated. You told me that.”

“No,” he told her, rivulets of rain sliding down his face and dripping from the bottom of his chin. “I wasn’t ready to be mated. I was furious at my mother. I couldn’t see the opportunity before me. And yet, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. You were everything I shouldn’t have wanted, all wrapped up in a body that still makes me ache.”

His hand reached out, stopping just above her clavicle. His fingers trembled and Solveig stared up at him, fighting the urge to flee.

“You hated me from the moment you saw me, and I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve such hate,” he whispered. “And the stupidest thing was that I didn’t care. If my mother hadn’t tried to kill me, I think I would have stayed. I would have chosen you. I wanted to kiss you so much I ached with it—”

There.

His fingertips grazed her skin.

And it was too much. Her heart erupted like a stampeding herd of cattle.

Today’s kiss had been wild need. A game. A taunt.

This was something else entirely, and she couldn’t escape it.

“I still want to kiss you.” His whisper skimmed her jaw, and then his lips followed them. A ghostly caress that had her yearning for more. “Do you know what it feels like to know I’ve tasted you once? I can still feel your nails digging into my back, Solveig. I can still feel the mark of your teeth in the skin of my throat. You haunt me. And every night, I hear you gasp as I kiss my way down your neck”—his hand splayed firmly over her midriff—“and I dream of the sounds you would make if you let me kiss my way lower.”

Lower, to where the trail of his fingertips led.

Past her belt.

Over the buttons of her breeches.

Solveig froze, breathless with want as he touched her there.

Right where it ached the fiercest.

And their eyes met as he drew back, practically daring her.

Marduk leaned closer, until his breath stirred her lips. “I’m not the only one who aches, am I? Your eyes turn molten sometimes and I can almost feel your lips on mine. And your fingers curl into your palms as if you’re fighting not to reach out and touch me. Despite everything, you want me and I want you. And maybe we can keep lying to ourselves, but maybe there’s no reason to do so. We’re alone here, Solveig. Nobody would ever know.” His voice softened to a whisper. “Only you. And only me.”

It wasn’t right to want a man so. It wasn’t right, and yet it had been years since she’d felt another’s touch, and worse, all she could remember was his, and she wanted—no, she needed—it to be more.

One night.

“I would know,” she whispered.

“Yes.”

It was a dare.

She looked into his eyes, and maybe this was what she needed? Maybe she’d be able to breathe again if she just let this happen. Maybe she’d no longer feel like chains constricted her chest every damned time he looked at her, if she drove this wretched feeling from her veins.

But he promised pleasure, and she didn’t want mere pleasure.

She wanted it to be a fight. She wanted to slay these treacherous demons within her heart. She wanted to punish herself for even wondering what it would feel like to have his hands on her skin.

“Maybe we need to deal with this attraction between us, once and for all?” he growled.

Solveig bit his finger, watching the heat flare to life in his eyes.

“What will it cost me?” he whispered.

Her heart skipped a beat. “Surrender. Complete and utter surrender.”

There was a devilish heat in his eyes. “Then you have it.”

“Just this once.”

Marduk’s eyes widened, but she was sliding a hand up his chest, feeling the erratic thump of his heart. Fierce desire flared in his amber irises as if the monster of his own need was unleashed.

“As you wish,” he whispered.

No more words. No more promises. No more secrets.

“Then kiss me.” Solveig grabbed a fistful of his collar as his mouth lowered to claim hers.

THERE WAS something to be said for surrender.

Marduk kissed as if she’d aimed her ballista at his dam walls and an entire torrent of passion was bursting through. He slammed her back against the wall, claiming her mouth as if she’d given him permission to own it.

It took precisely two seconds to realize this wasn’t surrender. Or not on her terms. Indeed, she found herself lifted up, her thighs clamping around his hips as his tongue lashed against her own.

All fury, passion and rage.

And sometimes she needed it. Sometimes this was exactly what she desired.

Solveig bit his lower lip, her fists curling in his shirt collar. Goddess, but it was happening again, just like before. One touch, one kiss, and something within her ignited.

Sex had never felt like this. She’d found friendship and a moment of connection with a Danish princess, but they’d both been aware their affair had an expiration date. And she’d never found a male lover who truly satisfied her. There was always something missing. The submissive ones bored her, and the dominant ones were merely arrogant and controlling. One had called her as frigid as the glaciers to the north after she cast him from her bed, and in her heart of hearts, she’d begun to wonder if he was right.

And so she’d stopped looking for that missing spark. She’d thrown her heart into the warband and her father’s court, until she’d begun to wonder if there was any passion left within her.

Until Marduk had kissed her.

And then there was nothing glacial about her. She became a firestorm, a phoenix bursting into flame.

She lost herself when she was with him.

She couldn’t control herself or her passion, and there was a niggling little feeling itching through her that whispered that if she ever truly let herself search her heart, what she might find there would not be to her satisfaction.

Him. Always him.

From the moment she’d laid eyes upon him.

He was both threat and curse. Passion and oblivion.

And she knew—deep in her heart—that he was her ruin.

Marduk broke the kiss, his trembling hands cupping her face as he nuzzled at her cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

He tried to meet her eyes. “I can feel you fighting it.”

Stop… thinking….

Solveig reached up and claimed his mouth. Her tongue tangled with his, and she tore his shirt open at the throat. Marduk complied with a reckless groan, his kiss grazing her chin and then lower, edging down the smooth column of her throat—

She grabbed a fistful of his hair and tore his mouth from her skin with a breathless gasp. “Not out here.”

Marduk stared at her with bare restraint, his mouth wet and slack with desire. And then a burning intent lit a spark in his eyes. “Why not?” he whispered.

Solveig stilled, tension running through every single muscle in her body.

Marduk took her silence for assent.

Meeting her gaze with an insolent look, he tore the buttons off her shirt. The cool night air left her trembling. Beneath the shirt was the corset she wore to keep everything in its place, and his thumbs grazed the silk there as if he simply couldn’t help himself.

“Anyone could see,” she whispered as he nuzzled at her neck.

And despite herself, she arched her head back, her teeth sinking into her lip with a soft moan as he tugged her corset down and captured her taut nipple in his mouth. Goddess. She felt the pull of that all the way through her.

“Yes, they could,” he breathed, his tongue lashing against the aching bud.

Fuck.

She grabbed a fistful of his hair, but his mouth was doing wicked things to her body.

Anyone could walk around the corner and see them.

And from the blazing light in his eyes, he half wanted it.

“I’ve dreamed of this moment for years,” he said, tugging at the laces on her leather breeches. “I want to be inside you, Solveig. I want to feel you clench around me. I’m going to fuck you so hard I leave bruises.”

Desire jolted through her at the words. But she bit his shoulder. “This doesn’t seem like submission to me.”

“Are you complaining?”

Hard fingers drove inside her, finding slick purchase as his thumb narrowed in on her clit.

Solveig bit her lip and shook her head. Their eyes met, and it was all she could do not to moan.

Both at the situation, and the sensation.

Goddess, how does he undo me so well?

Marduk smiled dangerously, and then he was working his fingers inside her, first one and then two. “You’re so wet.”

Control. Control. She needed a moment.

She needed a decade or more to come to terms with this.

“Not here,” she whispered, because he had to stop touching her long enough for her to be able to think.

Marduk nipped at her mouth. “Fine. I want you in a bed anyway.”

Withdrawing his fingers, he licked her wetness from them.

And then he turned and strode toward their rooms, carrying her the whole way.

16

“Put me down,” Solveig insisted, the second they were inside their chambers.

He let her slide down his body until her feet touched the floor.

They stared at each other a little breathlessly, until he captured her face in his hands and lowered his mouth to hers.

Marduk kissed the way he did everything in life.

Intensely. As if it was a challenge to be conquered, a race to be won. And she could barely breathe again.

She shoved at him, pushing him back against the door.

And then she brushed the backs of her knuckles down his shirt.

“What do you want of me? This?” Marduk gave her a slow, heated smile, one that melted her insides. And then he went to his knees in front of her, his eyes gleaming like newly minted gold coins. “Do you want my surrender, Solveig? Because if you want me on my knees, you have it. And if you want me to beg, then maybe I will.” His lips quirked. “Or maybe I won’t. I guess that is a question that needs answering.”

To beg. Her eyelids lowered as she slid a hand through his hair. Fuck, he looked beautiful like this, on his knees.

"Part your thighs," he purred, sliding his hands up the inside of her knees.

"You’re evil," she breathed.

But she did as told, because her willpower was weak.

She wanted that golden head between her thighs. She wanted the promise of his tongue—that clever, teasing tongue—on her wet flesh.

But as he nuzzled into the vee of her thighs, breathing her in, she realized exactly what he was doing. Taking control. Distracting her. Doing exactly as he pleased.

And that wouldn’t do.

“Get up,” she said.

And he did, pushing to his feet, muscle flexing through those powerful thighs until he towered over her again. Light flashed in those wicked eyes. A certain sort of calculation, but she didn’t miss the hint of frustration she saw there.

He would yield because he knew it was what she wanted. But he didn’t like it.

“And now?” he demanded, his jaw obstinately firm.

“Don’t move,” she whispered. Solveig reached out, placing her palm against his chest. His heart kicked behind the thin cambric of his shirt, but it was his body she wanted as she slid her palm down his abdomen, her fingers trailing away from his belt just before a savage look came over his face.

“No,” she said, slamming her palm to his chest as he leaned down to kiss her again. If this was going to happen, then it was going to happen on her terms, and she had no intentions of losing control again.

His mouth was ruinous. Kissing him was dangerous.

There would be no more kissing.

“I’m in control,” she told him as frustration etched dark shadows into his face. “No kissing.” Pressing her fingertip to his lower lip, she reveled in the flash of insolence that burned through his gaze. “Not on the lips.”

He bit her finger, suckling it into the wet cavern of his mouth. It made a popping sound as he released her. “Then what does my queen want of me?”

“Strip.”

Turning, she strode toward her chair, trying to rein in her catapulting emotions. She slunk into it, hooking one leg over the other and enjoying the battle waged in his eyes. Marduk did not cede control easily.

And that was why she was enjoying taking the reins so much.

“As you wish.” There was no longer any hint of defiance in his face. His lips quirked—a faint apostrophe forming at the right side of his mouth.

Finding the buttons at his throat, he tugged them open insolently. His eyes were hot flame. A dare. And then he reached over his shoulder and hauled his shirt over his head, revealing the wide expanse of those shoulders and the rippled flex of his abdomen.

His shirt hit the floor in front of her—a proffering of peace.

And her mouth went dry.

There was no denying it. Marduk was a god carved of heated flesh. His ribs were sheathed in a fine layering of muscle, and darker tattoos covered the heavy slab of his right pectoral. A dreki breathing golden flames. It was beautiful artwork, inscribed in his skin by a master. Every inch of him was pure muscle, and from their brief encounters she knew he knew how to use it.

Solveig reclined back in her chair, reaching for the goblet of wine on the table beside her in order to still her hands. “More.”

Kicking off his boots and socks, he started working on the buttons of his trousers. Lamplight gilded each fine muscle. The chiseled cut of his hips dipped into the leather, hints of taut pelvic bones revealing themselves with each button. Desire imprinted itself fiercely against the leather, until she knew it was almost a relief for him to shed his constraints.

He was wearing nothing beneath.

And as he straightened, she couldn’t stop her gaze from dropping to the prominent jut of his erection. Her breath caught. He was enormous. Marduk captured it in his hand, his fist whitening as he strained to encircle his cock, but his attention was all on her even as he insolently traced the pad of his thumb over its weeping tip.

“Would that it was your lips,” he whispered.

There was a breathtaking moment where she was caught in memory—gasping beneath him as he thrust against her, the feel of that brutish weapon driving right between her thighs, even as barely two layers of material separated them—but Solveig shoved her way back out of the memory, her nostrils flaring.

“Kneel,” she whispered, running her wet finger around the rim of the goblet. The sound of it keened in the air, slicing through the swift kick of her heartbeat. Wetness slicked between her thighs, but she was not to be undone.

Not yet.

She would never be undone.

Marduk went to his knees at her feet, the powerful muscles in his thighs straining.

“Come to me.”

He smiled. “I don’t crawl for anyone, my queen. If you want further submission, then you must offer me more than a command.”

“And what do you think I would be willing to offer?”

His smile held all manner of sin. “I want you naked. I want to see every inch of you. I want to taste you.”

She set the heel of her boot against his chest, and he caught it there, eyes flashing. “Then unlace it.”

Still a command, even if she was conceding a small vulnerability to him.

Marduk found the tight laces that ran up the length of her shin, and then he was tugging them loose. “You like being in control.”

“Who doesn’t?”

He tugged her boot free, his hands locking around her calf as he moved to tug her thin stocking down. “I wonder… would you like it if you were the one under my thumb?”

She’d always been on top. No male had ever reversed the tables on her, and there’d been none of that with females.

But again, memory was intruding….

The way he’d held her down the day of their mating ceremony; the determination on his face as he kissed her and tugged her knife from his throat.

If his friends hadn’t interrupted, she’d have allowed him to seduce her on the floors of her chambers after their mating ceremony, and she wasn’t sure if she’d have had the presence of mind to demand his submission.

A shiver ran through her as he slid his hands up her calves, slowly tugging her boot down.

“I will never yield,” she told him, but she’d hesitated too long, and the glint in his eyes told her he’d noticed.

He tossed the boot behind him. “Another.”

Solveig replaced one foot with the other.

Inch by inch, he stripped her bare. Soft kisses painted themselves against her knees and thighs, until he yanked her breeches from around her ankles and threw them behind him.

“You’re so damned pretty,” he whispered as he kissed his way up her body and then began working on her shirt. Her corset went next, until she was as bare as he was.

“Pretty is such an insipid word,” she breathed into his mouth.

“You’re fucking glorious.”

That was better.

Marduk caught her hand, and she sensed the challenge within him. “Kiss me.”

“I thought you offered me your surrender.”

“And you have it, but the price is this: kiss me.”

Solveig stared into those implacable eyes.

This too—like everything else between them—was a challenge. The thought thrilled her. Submission, though tempting, was not the reason her body flexed with wet need. She wanted him undone. She wanted him to beg her. She wanted the challenge.

And she would win it.

Sliding her palm over the heavy ripple of muscle in his chest, she curled her hand behind his nape and drew him down to her.

The first time they’d kissed, it had been fierce with fury and desire.

She’d lost control. Badly. And only in her dreams did she allow herself to remember the way he’d taken her mouth, claiming it so roughly that her lips were branded with the sensation for hours later. She’d worn his bruises on her skin, and thwarted desire had left her feeling utterly wretched.

One taste was not enough.

But she would not lose herself this time.

Marduk’s breath ghosted over her lips as they brushed against each other. Thumbs stroked her cheeks where he held her face, and then his tongue was brushing against her own. Tempting her. Taunting her. Denying her the oblivion she craved.

Solveig growled deep in her throat, her hand fisting in the short golden hair at the back of his skull. “Kiss me. Damn you.”

“As you wish,” he breathed, and gods, he tasted delicious. His mouth worked over hers in languorous delight. A shiver worked through her as his tongue lashed against hers, wicked and teasing.

She broke away. “Get on the bed.”

He lay down, still working his cock and never taking his eyes off her. “And now?”

Solveig drained the rest of her wine and then prowled across the room. She slunk onto the bed, crawling between his thighs.

His breath caught as she kissed his knee, and his hand stilled on his erection. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Why?” she whispered, letting her hair cascade over her shoulder as she bent her head and bit his thigh. “Does it ache, Marduk?”

He arched his head backward, as if silently praying to some god. “Of course it aches. Do you not think I want you?” He met her gaze, baring his teeth. “It hurts to not touch you. It hurts to not have my mouth on you. There’s a thousand things I want to do to you, and yet I can’t, and it’s infuriating….”

“Good,” she purred as she crawled up his body, her tongue stirring the soft hairs on his shins and upper thighs.

Marduk captured his cock in one hand, an insolent look in his eye as he fisted it and began stroking.

It was a gorgeous thing; a pagan offering for her pleasure. Thick and sleek, with ripples of flushed veins along its length. The gleam of anxious seed glistened on the tip.

Solveig considered him, all stretched out on the bed like some sort of gift. And the idea of partaking of him like this—where she held all the power—appealed in a way she’d not anticipated.

Crawling further up his length, she skimmed her palms over his lightly haired thighs. His breath caught as her face lowered, and then she placed a kiss to the ripple of muscle in his abdomen. “You’re beautiful,” she whispered, for she could concede as much. “I want to eat you all up.”

Reaching out with her tongue, she captured a single glistening bead of cum with her tongue.

“Fuck. Fuck, Solveig.” Hands tangled in her hair, and she looked up the line of his body, finding taut need on his face.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” she whispered, curling her palm around the base of his shaft. “I have you at my mercy, my prince.”

A breathless laugh burst from him. “You’ve had me at your mercy for years.”

Not yet. Not truly.

But she would.

Solveig ducked her head and swallowed him whole. The sound he made was reward enough; a desperate, aching growl that tore from a reluctant throat. Though a submissive act, this was power. She owned him in this moment as she twisted her fist slowly and then pushed lower, taking him deep into her throat.

She let her teeth graze the length of him on the return and saw tension fill him as their eyes met.

That’s right. Never forget how dangerous I can be.

Pulling free with a wet pop, she licked the mix of saliva and precum from her fingers. “You’re delicious.”

He slammed his head back into the pillow, his body a bow of tension. A shudder went through him. “And you’re evil.”

Solveig laughed as she bent her head again. “Beg,” she whispered, licking the swollen head of him. “Beg me.”

“For anything.” The words exploded out of him on a breath as his fingers tangled in her hair. “But fair warning: I’m not going to last long.”

“Really?” she purred, squeezing him again and then working her mouth around the tip of him. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Really.” He thrust up into her mouth, gasping again. “Solveig. Goddess’s breath. You don’t have…. I’m going to….” His head slammed back against the pillow again. “Fuck.”

She dug her nails into his ass and swallowed the length of his cock again, half gagging as it jerked in her throat. Hot, salty seed flooded her mouth, and she swallowed it whole, still working him, determined to have him on his metaphorical knees before she’d finished.

The sounds he made were delicious. And she licked and lapped at him until he was begging her for respite.

Every inch of him was shaking as she straddled his hips and tiptoed her fingers up his abdomen. “Half a minute, Marduk. I’m a little disappointed. I thought you had more restraint than that.”

Marduk raked a hand over his face, breathing hard. “I have no restraint when it comes to you. You’ve been torturing me for years. What did you expect?”

She laughed.

“But be warned, sweetheart. Turnabout is fair play.” He captured her bottom in both hands, hauling her forward until she was straddling his shoulders.

“Marduk!”

“Now this is a familiar sight,” he whispered, his palms urging her forward even as his eyes gleamed with wicked delight.

“Marduk,” she cursed, capturing the headboard.

She was supposed to be in control.

“Tell me yes.” He said the words like some sort of challenge. “Let me apologize. Let me worship you. Command me, Solveig. Tell me to fuck your sweet wet quim with my tongue.”

The muscle in her thighs strained.

This was a foolish idea.

He was merely mocking her again—presenting to her the precise nature of her weakness.

But goddess, how she wanted it.

“How long do you think you can last?” he taunted.

“Longer than half a minute,” she whispered.

“Then sit on my face.”

Grabbing a fistful of hair, she ground herself against his mouth.

His tongue found her, and then she was at his mercy, truly at his mercy. Thighs clenching on either side of his face, she gripped the headboard and cried out, because true to his word, he was good at this.

Every stroke of his tongue was like the lash of a whip, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her. There was no hesitance. No teasing. He ate at her as if he wanted to remind her who she belonged to. Fingers digging into her ass, he dragged his tongue along her, flickering it lightly over her clit.

And then he looked up the length of her body.

It was the look in his eyes that did it for her. Heat. Desire. A wicked, wicked intensity, as if he knew how easily he undid her. A finger found her from behind, teasing at her.

Solveig gasped, fighting the tremor running through her.

“That’s it, my queen.” He nuzzled at her thigh. “Scream my name.”

Surrender did not come naturally to her, but as he suckled at her clit, she found herself doing exactly that.

Solveig cried out as her entire body spasmed, biting into the flesh of her forearm. It was like lightning in a bottle, finally released. She broke and broke again, shuddering and whimpering as she rode him through it, his merciless tongue the whip that pushed her over the edge, again and again….

Until she could no longer move.

No longer breathe.

“Stop!” she gasped, clutching the headboard. “Stop.”

Marduk eased her down, and she collapsed against his chest, shuddering in the aftermath. Callused hands slid up her spine in gentle strokes. “Tiamat’s mercy, I’ve been dreaming of that for years.”

Every inch of her wanted to lie here in his arms, but she had to recover some decorum.

Solveig pushed herself upright, her thighs still quivering. “My turn,” she whispered, reaching between them.

His cock was throbbing with need, slickness leaking from the tip.

She sank down, sheathing the hard steel of it, a hiss driving from her lips. Gods. It had been too long, but she was so wet, it felt like she melted into him.

“Mercy.” Marduk’s hands clenched in her ass, a silent snarl curling his upper lip. He urged her to move. “You’re so tight.”

“All the better to ruin you with.”

Thighs flexing, she started to move. A slow, dangerous grind, her hands digging into his chest.

Their eyes met.

“My queen,” he whispered, surging up to capture her mouth even as he drew her closer.

Their lips clashed, tongues darting over each other. He tasted of her. And she licked it from his lips, even as she fought to ride him.

She couldn’t flex enough, couldn’t move.

It forced her to undulate instead, a slow roll of her hips that was not so much a claiming as a meeting of their bodies. She couldn’t fuck him. Not like this. Instead he kissed her and caressed her, luring her into some sort of semblance of mating.

Marduk growled in his throat, his teeth bared. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

Clasping her bottom, he ground her against the base of his cock, and she nearly saw stars.

“Marduk.”

“What’s wrong, love?” His whisper held a soft laugh.

“I’m supposed to be in control.”

“You are.” His whisper was a confession as he bit her shoulder. “You’ve always been in control. Maybe it’s time to let go?”

Soft kisses caressed her throat. She arched her neck, allowing him access. It felt so good. She was overwhelmed by sensation. His hands, his mouth, his cock filling her….

Hands skated up the muscles on either side of her spine. “You’re so beautiful and wild. I love it when you scream my name. I love it, Solveig.” He captured her face, and kissed the tip of her nose, his eyes serious.

She had nothing to say to that, because he was kissing her throat again, his hips rocking against her. His fingers clasped hers, until they were palm to palm.

And she was suddenly breathless with fear.

This was too much.

Too intense.

She bit his lip to reassert control, guiding his hands down her body.

He was merciless, his thumb splaying her wide open even as she rocked against him.

“Come for me,” he whispered. “Come, Solveig. Ride the winds.”

And she surrendered, her entire body arching as pleasure shattered through her once more.

Marduk rolled them, and then he was slamming into her, driving her pliant body into the bed, even as she screamed.

She was a mess of fury and motion, teeth sinking into the firm muscle where his shoulder met his neck. Nails digging into the skin of his back. Goddess. Harder. She wanted it to be harder. She wanted to ache, even as she wanted to claim him and mark him and destroy him in all ways—

Capturing her knee, he drove it upwards in a cage around his ribs. And then he was hammering into her, flesh slapping against flesh. His spine bowed, and she cried out as he threw his head back and came with a muffled groan.

Marduk collapsed atop her, gasping for breath. They were both sweat-slicked and panting, and for some reason she laughed, because she felt so relaxed she could stay here forever.

“I knew you’d be perfect,” he whispered, as he captured her hands and laced their fingers together on the pillow beside her face.

She could barely breathe herself.

Every inch of her was languorous with release. She felt shattered. Empty. Peaceful. Finally, finally at peace….

But now that she was coming down from the edge, there was a sense of blissful silence within her that made her wonder.

Her dreki lay at ease. She could sense it lashing its tail within her watchfully, but it was no longer tearing at her from the inside, trying to get out. No more claws shredding her from within. No more wings smashing at their cage.

What did this mean?

Solveig tried to reach within, but a rasp of stubble brushed against her throat, teeth threatening to mark her skin.

“Mmmm.” Marduk was moving within her again, his cock stiffening as if he’d caught his second wind.

“Again?”

“What’s wrong? Afraid I’m going to ruin you for all other dreki?”

“Hardly.”

“Really?” A chuckle burst through him, and he deliberately rocked against her firmly enough to touch on that center of nerves. Lightning laced through her as he laughed. “Because I’m fairly certain you lost control of yourself there for a moment. Admit it, Solveig. There will never be another in your life.”

She tangled a fist in his hair. “You’re not that good.”

“No?” He withdrew from her body, and then his hands found her hips and he flipped her onto her knees.

She had never, ever found herself on hands and knees before a male before, and even as she threw a hiss over her shoulder, he set both hands on her hips and thrust within her again.

The shock of his depth tore a cry from her throat. She stopped fighting. Instead, it became a battle to keep herself from collapsing as he ground within her, his hand skimming along her spine and knotting in her hair.

“Do you want to know a secret?” Marduk whispered in her ear as he hauled her upright, one hand sliding over her breasts and the other still knotted in her hair.

“What?”

“You lied to me before when you said you didn’t lose control. Do you want to know how I know?”

Solveig turned her face and bit his wrist, but he laughed and flexed within her. Her eyes nearly rolled back in her head.

“I know,” he whispered, as he forced her back onto her hands, “because I can still feel your teeth in my throat. You marked me, Solveig. And I liked it. And now it’s my turn to leave my mark on your skin….”

17

“Do your shirt up,” Solveig said primly, as they ventured toward the set of apartments Árdís had been given. “We’re at a foreign king’s court. Nobody needs to see your chest.”

Marduk shot her a lazy smile. “It’s not the sight of my chest that bothers you though, is it?”

He could still feel her teeth sinking into his throat, and the perfect imprint of them remained behind, bruised into his skin.

If it was up to him, he’d show the world. She’d lost control and marked him, and he loved it.

“You want my shirt closed,” he told her, “then close it.”

It was close enough to her commands last night that he saw fury flash through her dark eyes. A queen on the edge. But it wasn’t mere anger that lit her face like that.

They paused outside Árdís’s door. Yanking his shirt together, she shoved the buttons through each loop. “One night, I promised you. One. And it’s done, Marduk.”

It was far from done.

He leaned closer, sleepy-lashed and hungry. “So you’re going to share a bed with me tonight and not touch me?”

Solveig glanced up from beneath her lashes.

He wanted to kiss the tip of her stubborn nose.

“Fight it,” he whispered. “You’ll lose. Eventually. And then we can come together like a clash of storms again.”

“So. Arrogant.” She tugged the top button of his shirt together. “I swear you were put on this world to frustrate me.”

Torchlight gleamed in her dark eyes, turning them into obsidian flames as she muttered to herself and slipped the last button into its loop. He didn’t even think she realized what she’d just said.

Because if he was put on this world for her, then he would have known by now. He would have felt something, wouldn’t he?

Sharp fingers squeezed his heart. He’d never dreamed of such a thing before. He’d never desired it.

Until he finally realized what the lack of it meant.

They were not soulmates, destined for each other.

And for the first time in his life, as he looked down at her dark head, he wanted it to be real.

“Marduk?” She glanced up as if she’d sensed his distraction.

He had to say something.

“You’d think the mark would fade,” he whispered as she released the top button. “I always heal within a matter of hours. But the bite is still there.”

“Shut up.”

“Is yours still there?” He let his thumb brush against the undercurve of her breast, right over the spot where he’d bitten her.

Heat surfaced in her cheeks. Fury in her eyes.

But as their gazes met, he saw a sense of hesitation there. She who never hesitated, and yet it was written all over her skin.

“What?” he whispered, trying to chase down her thought.

“Nothing.”

“You’re such a liar.”

She growled in her throat.

“You are,” he told her. “I thought we were sharing secrets now. What’s wrong?”

Solveig glanced half to the side, her hands resting on his shirt. “My dreki’s gone quiet within me. I don’t know what it means.”

“Maybe she’s exhausted? I did keep you busy last night.”

Confusion notched itself between her brows. “You don’t understand. It’s never quiet when you’re around. It’s always….”

“What?”

But she drew back as if she realized she’d said too much.

“Solveig.” He caught her wrist. Why would she never simply give in? Why did everything between them have to end in a fight? “It’s always… what?”

Solveig glared at him. “Fighting me. It’s always fighting me.”

It wasn’t what he’d expected her to say.

Marduk drew back. To be attuned to your dreki was to be one with yourself. Sometimes it overruled him—there’d been that moment in the throne room the other day when he’d nearly torn Draco’s head from his shoulders for daring to touch her—but he was mostly in control of himself. And while it sometimes overwhelmed him with its primal instincts, it was never a battle between them.

“How long has it been fighting you?”

Her lips pressed firmly together.

But it felt as though the skies suddenly opened.

It’s never quiet when you’re around….

Why do you hate me so much? You hated me from the first moment you saw me….

“That’s why you hated me? You took one look at me and your dreki decided to hurt me?”

“Not you!” Frustration darkened her face. “Me. It was trying to…. I don’t know. It just…. It hurt. It feels like being ripped apart from the inside. There you were, and all of a sudden my dreki was screaming inside me, trying to batter its way out of my chest. Every time I saw you it felt like an explosion of pain and fury and need and—”

“Need?”

Color turned her cheeks a pretty rose color. “Of course, you would focus on that one word. Of course. You were pretty, Marduk. I’m not going to lie. And this… animosity between us could always have gone one of two ways. To bed. Or to war. But I always knew that if we ended up in bed, you would destroy me—”

“Destroy you? I never intended anything of the sort. I’ve never once given you reason to think that I wanted to—”

“Oh, really?”

“Not then. Not when we first met. I was trying to be polite. You tried to murder me. And even when I sang that stupid poem, I had no intentions of hurting you. I was…. Fuck, I was young, and stupid, and you’d put a knife in me for daring to try and kiss you.”

“If I’d meant to kill you, I wouldn’t have given you a mere flesh wound.”

“Flesh wound?”

“None of it made sense,” she snapped back. “It hurt, and it was all you, and I was…. I was out of control for the first time in my life. I didn’t know what was going on. I still don’t! Except, for the first time since I met you, it no longer hurts!”

Marduk stilled, his chest heaving.

Because he was no longer that foolish young prince, and they’d spent so many years fighting that he was well and truly tired of it.

Damn it. Marduk cupped his palms behind his head, trying to think. “When precisely did it fall quiet?”

Her mouth took on that mulish slant he knew too well.

Despite himself, he smiled. “So I was that good, huh?”

He was ready for the punch that came his way and caught her fist in his. Hauling her into his arms, he dragged her toward the nearest window ledge and sat, pulling her into his lap. “Relax. I was joking.”

“It is not a laughing matter.”

She sat so primly, but at least she was allowing him this. Marduk brushed the backs of his fingers up and down her spine. In the wake of last night, when he’d spent hours pleasing her, he’d have expected to have had his fill, but he couldn’t stop touching her.

“Sex is primal,” he said with a shrug. “So is the dreki. Maybe it’s had its fill of whatever it needed?”

“I’ve had sex before.”

“Not with me.”

Solveig’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand what’s happening to me.”

His heart skipped a beat. This confession was worth its weight in gold, because she never dropped her guard. Ever.

And he forced himself to stop smiling, because if she was going to lower her shield, then he could only do likewise. “Maybe we should have done this ten years ago? It might have saved us both a lot of heartache and suffering.”

“Heartache?”

He gave her a slow, determined look. “You can pretend if you want to, but I know I hurt you.” He chewed on his lip before confessing in a quiet voice, “And I know you hurt me.”

It made her draw back, until they were nose to nose. Light spilled through the window, her hair shining like black silk.

“Did you think you hadn’t? I lied when I said I didn’t think of you in those ten years. I did.”

“Dreki can’t lie.”

“They can if they believe it,” he pointed out. “And I was willing to take the risk that my magic might latch onto the words, because to tell you the truth meant… admitting it to myself.” He brushed his fingers through her hair. “You were the one woman who might have ruined me.”

She sat so still, he could hear her heart racing. “Stop telling me your weaknesses, Marduk. I’ll only use them to destroy you.”

“If you truly meant to destroy me, then you wouldn’t warn me. You speak a good game about being ruthless, but you have morals and you have self-imposed rules. You won’t break them.”

Stalemate. He could see it in her eyes, and he gave into desire and kissed her.

It was a soft kiss. Gentle. A little tender.

Solveig squirmed and then broke the caress with a gasp. But she didn’t fight her way free of him. Merely rested her forehead against his.

It felt strange to nestle here with her in his arms. His thumb slowed its hypnotic glide over her hip. His heart skipped a beat.

He wasn’t the sort of male to linger in a female’s arms.

There was always a restless sort of urge driving him on. Mountains to explore. Skies to conquer. Another country to venture into. Another girl to kiss. Anything to escape.

But right now, that urge was gone.

What would it be like to stay right here at her side? He’d never tire of her. She was so wild and free that being with her would always be like chasing a storm. And maybe she wouldn’t be the kind of female that would be easy to live with, but to watch her conquer her father’s court, and then take on the world, would be every kind of wonderful, and—

Marduk froze.

“What?” Solveig drew back. “You look like your balls just sucked themselves up inside your abdomen.”

A stunningly accurate assessment.

Marduk slowly resumed stroking her hip. “I think I’m having a sudden epiphany of my own.”

“If this has anything to do with how good you are in bed, I swear I shall strangle you.”

“It doesn’t.” He took in her heart-shaped face. Angry and defiant, and two seconds away from punching him again, if he was any sort of judge. “I don’t want to fly away.”

“I’m not sure how—”

He pressed a finger to her lips. “I think, maybe, that I understand what you’re trying to say about your dreki, because I think mine’s gone quiet too. I can never stay in one place. I can never seem to settle. It’s like this burr of irritation that sets my teeth on edge if I stay still too long. But right now, it’s gone.” He threw his head back and laughed. “Maybe we should go back to bed. Maybe we should never leave it.”

Someone coughed politely.

Or not so politely, because it was swiftly followed by, “Well, this is an interesting development.”

Marduk and Solveig broke apart guiltily.

His sister was standing in the hallway, practically beaming at him, with Haakon at her side.

“I knew it!” Árdís clapped her hands together. “I knew you had feelings for her!”

He pushed to his feet as Solveig scrambled off his lap, scrubbing a hand through the back of his hair. Ignoring Árdís, he arched a brow at Haakon. This was twice now. “We need to discuss your sense of timing.”

“Don’t blame me. You’re in the hallway. Anyone could have chanced past.”

“Everyone is gathered?” Solveig asked Árdís, brushing off her leathers and ignoring him as best she could, despite the ruddy glow in her cheeks.

“Everyone is within my rooms,” Árdís replied, shooting him one last curious look. “We came to see what was taking the pair of you so long.” Her nostrils flared. “I see there shall be no more issues with scent-marking.”

“Árdís,” he growled.

His sister laughed as she headed back to her rooms. “I think this is a lovely development. I’ve always wanted another sister.”

The flash of panic in Solveig’s eyes stalled him. Marduk shook his head at her. “Ignore her. She’s spent her entire life trying to make mine miserable.” And then he raised his voice for Árdís’s sake. “There’s nothing happening between us beyond a mutual shared attraction.”

“I get to plan the mating ceremony,” Árdís threw over her shoulder.

“We’re already—”

“Not properly,” she insisted. “The real one, not the political one.”

“Is she always like this?” he demanded of Haakon as he stormed after Árdís.

“Always,” the dragon-slayer replied with a faint smile.

“SO SCORPIUS IS KEPT in a trance-like state in the cellars,” Sirius mused, as Marduk laid out what he and Solveig had discovered so far. “I didn’t think Draco had it in him. Scorpius, yes? But Draco? He was cut of a different cloth when I was here last time. To a degree.”

“Dreki change when power is on the table,” Elin pointed out, which was the first time she’d directly spoken to her brother-in-law, that Marduk could remember.

“That’s horrible,” Malin whispered.

Sirius shot her a look. “You’ve never met Scorpius.”

“Nobody deserves to have their soul bound within a blade,” his wife countered. “Do you think the blade in his chest is kunuk la’atzu? This soulstone that Andromeda told Solveig about? It was an emerald, wasn’t it?”

The rest of the group looked troubled. It was the first time the entire Zini delegation had been able to get together in private under one roof since they’d arrived.

“How did Draco get his hands on one of these soulstones?” Haakon asked.

“Or more to the point, does Andromeda know about it?” Árdís asked.

Marduk glanced toward Solveig. She’d know better than he would. Though she seemed distracted, and was staring at Malin.

“I don’t think so,” she replied slowly. “I think she knows more about these soulstones than she mentioned, but she’s an honorable woman. And the concept of the soulstone bothered her. I think if she knew it existed, she would have tried to destroy it.”

“It’s lovely to know these things,” Elin pointed out, “but our focus is on the key. Have you made any sort of advance in finding it?”

“Ishtar and I think it’s hidden beneath the keep,” Marduk replied, then looked toward his twin. “There are two major pulses of Chaos power left to uncover. I’m leaning toward the one beneath Draco and Andromeda’s tower, but my sense of it is not strong enough. If we can manage to slip Ishtar into the tunnels beneath us….”

“I can try and find it,” Ishtar said. “I could use a portal—”

“Not alone,” he countered, for she hadn’t yet managed to transport more than one dreki. He took her hand in his and squeezed it. “We don’t know what’s down there. It might be the key. It might also be a trap.”

Ishtar squeezed his hand back. Once. Twice. Thrice.

They’d worked out a hidden code for when she felt a little overwhelmed, and three squeezes meant she loved him. He returned the favor.

“What about the old woman?” Solveig asked slowly. “Klara? She’s the oldest Chaos-worker here in the Zilittu lands. If anyone would know about the key and the kunuk la’atzu, then it would be her.”

“She thinks I’m the vile spawn of an evil bitch.”

Solveig linked with him. “I’ve been thinking about Scorpius and how his soul is trapped in that dagger. Someone separated his spirit from his body. Someone knows that spell. And it can’t have been Draco, because he has no magic of his own.”

“True. But Elin’s right. We need to focus on the key.”

“Do we?” There was something in her dark eyes. “I was just thinking about what Malin said about the emerald in the hilt of the dagger in Scorpius’s chest. Do you remember when you told me that the emerald necklace your mother was wearing when she died was found shattered in your court?”

Marduk froze.

“I asked Andromeda if a practitioner could store their own soul in one of these kunuk la’atzu, and she didn’t think anyone would do it because they’d be trapped forever. But…. I can’t help thinking that your mother’s necklace was shattered. What if… she did put her soul in the necklace? What if she somehow escaped? And what if there’s a reason Chaos-wielders are now being sucked dry of their magic?”

It was one thing to suspect his mother’s magic still infiltrated the court, but to see it all laid out like that….

“Fuck,” he breathed.

“Keep your suspicions quiet. We don’t want to alarm anyone just yet. But if your mother’s spirit is somehow haunting this party, then I think Klara might be able to help us find her. She knows a great deal about Chaos, and she would want to stop Amadea. I think this is more important than the key, Marduk.”

Out loud she said, “True, but Klara may talk to me.”

He stared at her. “It’s… worth a visit.”

Árdís swept to her feet. “If the pair of you want to visit Klara, then we can see if we can find a way to smuggle Ishtar inside the tunnels beneath the keep. Perhaps a small group…. Sirius? Could you escort her?”

“They’re watching all of us,” Elin pointed out, “but you and Sirius, most of all. Would it not be wiser to send someone who doesn’t draw attention? I could go.” She lifted one of her father’s books. “I’ve been reading about the key. There’s some mention of it in The Origins of Chaos, and I’m not quite sure if what I’m reading suggests it can only be touched by someone who can work Chaos. I’d like a better look at it. And perhaps Andri could escort us? For protection.” She turned to Haakon. “Or your husband? He’s human. They won’t be watching him.”

Árdís tapped her finger against her lips. “We’ll wait until night falls.”

Marduk offered Solveig a hand to draw her to her feet. “We should be back by then. Coming, my love?”

The room devolved into a mishmash of conversation.

Andri pushed to his feet, grabbing Marduk’s wrist. “Do you think I could talk to you at some point? Alone?”

It was clearly intended to be said quietly, but a sudden lull in the conversation meant that everyone in the room heard it.

Marduk glanced around. His younger cousin had become remarkably quiet of late, but he’d always had time for Andri. “Of course. When we get back?”

Andri opened his mouth, then hesitated. He gave Marduk a weak smile. “When you get back.”

18

Solveig kept watch as Marduk rapped on the door to Klara’s home.

“Who is it?” called the older woman.

“I am Solveig of the Sadu,” she replied, pushing the door open. “And this is Marduk. Of the Zini.”

“May we… speak to you?” Marduk asked.

The older woman froze by her sink. “You.”

“Please,” he said. “I’m not here to hurt you. I just want answers.”

Wiping her hands dry, Klara pressed her lips tightly together. Her head turned toward Solveig, and she could see the other woman’s nostrils flaring. Unease filled her expression.

Two strange dreki in her home, one of them the son of her sister’s killer.

“Here,” Solveig said, bringing Klara’s chair around. “Let me finish your dishes if you like, while Marduk asks you some questions. I promise we intend you no harm. We’re here because we’re afraid that the queen you despise is haunting us….”

“Haunting you?” the older woman barked. “That’s impossible.”

“Sit. Please,” Marduk said. “Let me explain.”

The pair of them sat as Solveig crossed to the sink.

“What do you mean?” Klara insisted, behind her. “The queen died. The Blackfrost killed her. I poured wine on my sister’s grave to celebrate her killer’s death.”

“My mother died, yes. But….” And then Marduk told her about the young girl who’d died in the Zini hallways, and now their suspicions about Kirstin’s death. He told her about the soulstones, though he didn’t mention how they knew it.

After all, someone must have helped Draco put that dagger in his brother.

“We need to know if it is possible,” he said. “Could my mother’s spirit have somehow survived? Could she have bound her spirit to one of the jewels in her necklace?”

“The emerald necklace was broken, you say?” Klara sucked in a sharp breath as Solveig washed a cup.

“Yes.”

“There is an ancient rite,” Klara whispered, “about transferring one’s essence into an object. It was somewhat akin to astral projection, but instead of being tethered to a body, you became tethered to an object. They called it kunuk la’atzu. A prison for the soul. It was meant to be a punishment, but some dreki realized they could hide their spirits in order to avoid certain sentences, and then it became corrupted by those who performed darker magics. There was one case, in Persia, where the dreki involved tethered himself to one of the jewels inlaid in a lamp. A stupid, foolish boy stole the lamp and the dreki spirit consumed him.”

“Consumed him?” Marduk asked sharply.

Solveig’s hands stilled in the sink.

“An object cannot affect the natural world, not even with a spirit inside it, but if someone willingly picks up that object…. All dreki have a spark of Chaos within them—the goddess herself. If the spirit comes into proximity with another dreki, and they are able to feed undetected upon that spark of magic within them, they may use it to take control of the dreki’s body. The problem is, in order to be able to sustain themselves, they need more magic. They will consume others, drinking their magic down until there is not even a spark left in the other’s body. It always ends badly.”

“My gods,” Marduk breathed. “She is still here. That’s what she’s doing. She’s killing others in order to strengthen herself.”

“Her spirit cannot float free,” Klara warned. “She must be hidden within someone. Someone must have picked up the emerald necklace she tethered herself to, and then she tethered herself to them.”

“But who?” Solveig demanded.

Because it had to be someone within the Zini party.

Klara hesitated. “The spirit’s hunger is strong, but the will of the spirit who inhabits a body will naturally be stronger. It would take many moons of subtle manipulation in order to control them. Or they may still be riding along, their host completely unaware of what’s inside them. There’s also the possibility that the spirit may have latched onto one dreki, and then slipped into someone else. Someone with stronger magic.”

“Is there any way we can know?” Solveig asked, wiping her hands dry.

“Sudden changes in personality are the best means of detection,” Klara said. “It depends on how much the spirit knows about the dreki they’re riding.”

A sudden noise echoed outside—it sounded like someone kicked a bucket over.

Solveig’s hand went to her knife.

They weren’t supposed to be here. They’d taken great pains not to be seen entering the Chaos-wielders village, and Viveka had made it clear that irritating Klara would be considered a trespass.

“What was that?” Marduk breathed.

“Stay here,” Solveig told Klara. “We’ll see who it was.”

They circled the hut, and by the time they met at the front door, she was on edge.

“Nothing,” she breathed as Marduk slipped toward her.

“Nothing.”

Probably a damned cat. She let her dagger ram back home into its sheath, before something caught her eye—

There was a green glow emanating from within the cottage.

“Klara,” she whispered, her heart dropping to the soles of her feet.

No time for stealth. Solveig tried the door, but it was locked.

“I’ll go around the back!” Marduk said.

“Not alone!”

But he was already gone. She darted after him.

The back door was ajar.

Marduk skidded to a halt, and Solveig shoved past him so she could see.

Klara gasped on the floor, breath rasping through her withered lungs. She’d already been old, but this was….

“Klara?” She was still alive. Solveig slid to her knees beside the older woman. “Klara?”

Klara gasped, a ragged breath running through her.

“Fetch help!” She hissed at Marduk.

Another horrible breath rattled through Klara’s lungs. Solveig held her desiccated hand. “What happened? Who was it? Was it one of ours?”

The older woman tried to turn her head toward a nearby chair.

And then the breath wheezed out of her chest, and her hand slumped into Solveig’s.

Gone. She was gone.

And they’d brought the killer right to Klara’s door.

The killer.

She’d sent Marduk out there alone.

“Marduk!” She hurled the thought toward him. “Get back here. She’s dead. We need to get out of here.”

Thought tugged along the line. He might have heard her.

Pushing to her feet, she caught sight of a cloak hanging over Klara’s chair. Despite the need to flee, Solveig lifted it to her face, breathing in the scent.

Andri.

Every inch of her went still.

They couldn’t be caught here. If they were, then the tension between the clans—already terse—would boil over.

She bolted for the door, slamming into Marduk.

He caught her arms. “There are three Zilittu warriors coming! Hurry! We need to get out of here!”

And so they did.

THE SECOND THEY were back inside the castle, Solveig pushed Marduk into a dark corner.

He peered through one of the windows, his face taut. “They’ve found the body. There are torches everywhere. What happened?”

“Someone must have followed us.”

“But who?”

Solveig held Andri’s cloak up.

“No,” he said, his face paling. “That’s impossible.”

“It has to be one of ours.” And who better than a handsome young dreki youth nobody would suspect? “You said he’d been sulky of late. Avoiding Sirius and even Rurik. And he wanted to talk to you alone.”

“That bitch. She’s already tortured the poor bastard. How do we get her out of him?”

Shouts echoed out in the yard.

“Later. Definitely later,” she whispered. “We need to warn the others.”

Slipping through the servants’ quarters, they made their way toward Árdís’s apartments.

Steel rang on steel somewhere ahead of them.

Marduk grabbed her arm, and they both froze.

“You can’t do this,” Árdís yelled. “Get your hands off me!”

Marduk strained forward, but Solveig slammed him against the wall, shaking her head sharply. Don’t.

Tension bunched through him, the muscle in his jaw tightening. It was his sister, and right now he was fighting every territorial instinct he had.

“You leave me with little choice.” Draco’s voice echoed through the hallways. “Two of my Chaos-wielders are dead, and the elders say they’ve been drained of their magic until their bodies were but husks. The only creature who can do that is another Chaos-wielder. And you have two of them in your party.”

“Do I look like I suck the magic out of other dreki?” Entire oceans of disdain echoed in Árdís’s voice.

“Someone did.”

Solveig slammed a hand over Marduk’s mouth before he could move. She reached out for him on a psychic thread. “They’ve got a small army in these halls. The two of us can’t stop this.”

“You would dare break guest-right?” Árdís demanded.

“You will be confined to your rooms until the other members of your party can be found,” Draco replied.

“While we’re free,” Solveig continued, “we have a chance to rescue them. Think, Marduk.”

It took him long seconds to concede a nod, and he was trembling before he’d finished.

“Unhand me!” Árdís yelled.

“Get your hands off my wife!” Haakon growled.

Solveig grabbed Marduk’s hand and tugged him into the shadows. There was nothing they could do here, but as the sound of a woman screaming in rage echoed through the hallways, he flinched.

“They won’t hurt her. This way,” she soothed. “I promise we’ll rescue them. We just have to avoid Draco and his warriors.”

“And Andri.”

THE ZILITTU CASTLE had been built centuries ago, and the servants’ quarters were a rabbit warren.

They remained undiscovered for over an hour, until a hooded finger appeared out of the shadows, a spark of green glowing in her hands.

Marduk stalled Solveig’s hand as she reached for her knife.

This was a Chaos-wielder, and the chances of actually managing to unsheathe said knife were slim.

They’d have to talk themselves out of this now.

It was over.

Andromeda’s face appeared within the hood. She lifted a finger to her lips, then whispered, “Come with me.”

Marduk shot Solveig a look.

But they followed.

“What’s going on?” Solveig whispered. “Where are you taking us?”

Andromeda shushed them again, paused by a corner, peered around it, and then gestured them forward after her. “Hurry.”

She urged them toward a door even as metal-clad feet tramped elsewhere in the castle.

Once through it, Marduk came to a halt as he recognized the opulence. Gold and silk and an enormous four-posted bed….

He spun around, incredulous. “You bought us to your chambers?”

Draco would be furious enough as it was without scenting a rival male in his mate’s bedchambers.

Andromeda leaned against the doors. “Draco will not enter here. You may speak freely.”

“Why?” Solveig demanded. “Why would you hide us?”

“I could smell you both in Klara’s hut.” Andromeda glanced at Solveig. “You washed her dishes. It did not appear to be the actions of a woman who intended her harm. And you have always been respectful toward me, even when others have not been. What happened?”

He swiftly explained. “What does Draco intend to do with Árdís and the others?”

Andromeda clicked her fingers, and every candle in her room lit up. “He has them locked away in their chambers, with guards on all the doors. I don’t know what his intentions are. He’s trying to find the pair of you, the drekling, your younger cousin, and Ishtar.”

Marduk let out a breath. “Ishtar escaped?”

“Draco’s warriors tried to grab her and she disappeared into thin air. He’s convinced she popped into being in Klara’s hut and murdered her.”

“It’s not her. I will stake my life on it. My sister can’t hurt another dreki. She simply doesn’t have it within her.”

“I share a similar opinion.” Andromeda tapped her fingers on the edge of the table. “Whatever is going on leaves my sisters of Chaos vulnerable. They train them from birth to defend themselves if necessary. Klara should have been able to protect herself.” She looked troubled. “Whoever is doing this is born of Chaos.”

Solveig produced the cloak. “We found this. In the hut.” She took a deep breath. “Tell her the rest of it, Marduk.”

By the time he’d finished, Andromeda’s eyebrows formed an M. “You think your mother’s wraith is taking her vengeance out upon your family?”

“Klara seemed to think it was possible—that’s why we went to see her.”

“Andri escaped with the drekling girl. They were with Ishtar in the gardens.”

Trying to get to the tunnels….

Marduk pushed to his feet, the heat draining out of his face. “We have to find Ishtar. I can’t sense her right now, which means she’s still travelling via portal. She may return to those she knows. If Andri is housing my mother’s wraith, then Ishtar is vulnerable. She’ll trust Andri. She’ll let him get close to her. And if my mother consumes her magic, then she’ll be unstoppable.”

Andromeda sighed. “To hide the two of you in my rooms is one thing. To countermand Draco’s guards is another. I need to speak to the king.”

“No. Please.”

“Draco’s not….” Andromeda winced. “He has… moments of honor. When I came to this court, I had heard rumors of the Zilittu, but he is not what the rumors are made of. He is trying to wrest his court into some semblance of a noble one.”

“Considering what Draco has done to his own twin, I have doubts,” Solveig pointed out.

Andromeda gave her an odd look. “What he’s done to Scorpius?”

What was Solveig doing?

Now was not the time to test the fracture between the king and queen of Zilittu.

“Wait.” Andromeda pushed forward, her shoulders straightening. “You know something. What’s going on? What has Draco done?” Her voice softened. “Is Scorpius still alive?”

“He’s alive,” Marduk replied. “Technically.”

Solveig sighed. “Ask your king about the dagger.”

“What. Dagger?”

“Your mate will have that answer,” Solveig said firmly. “It is not our place to provide it.”

Andromeda gathered her cloak and swung it over her shoulders with an angry flourish. “I will. If you’d care to join me, Your Highness, the two of us may be able to talk some sense into him. He respects you and your father. And I think he’s going to listen to me. I have a few things to say to him.”

“What about Marduk?” Solveig asked.

“Come,” Andromeda said to Marduk. “We’ll hide you in the tunnels. Because while Draco may grant Solveig time to plead your case, he will not take kindly to another male’s presence. Not right now.”

19

A sound whispered through the tunnel.

Marduk froze.

It could be a mouse. He couldn’t smell such a creature, but it had been a small noise. A mere wisp of fabric shifting.

There. There it came again. And this time he could distinctly hear someone placing their weight on a floorboard.

Easing the knife from his sleeve, he waited with his heart racing….

Whoever it was, they were moving directly toward the armoire where the hidden tunnel was located.

A latch clicked. The second the armoire door opened, he lunged forward, grabbing a handful of silk and shoving the offender back against the wall, with his knife at their throat.

“Marduk!” Big green eyes blinked at him in shock. And then Elin breathed a sigh of relief and slumped against him. “Thank goodness! I was so certain I was going to be captured by a big, scary Zilittu warrior, and here you are to save me. I was looking for you!”

He tried to extricate her arms from around his neck.

He’d been hoping someone else from their party was free, but he’d hoped for someone a little less… clingy.

“Elin.” Marduk shot a savage glare around the room to ensure they were alone, then tugged her into the armoire, hauling the door shut behind them. His voice dropped. “What are you doing here? How did you escape? Where is Andri?”

The hidden chamber was still lit by the glowing emerald Andromeda had given him.

“I was never captured,” she whispered, glancing around. “I thought everyone else was gathered in Árdís’s chambers. I was trying to see if I could get them out. Malin’s in there. You don’t think they’ll hurt her, do you?”

She was almost trembling with fear.

Marduk rested his hands on her shoulders. “Malin is fine. Solveig’s working with Andromeda to see if she can convince Draco to release them.”

“Don’t trust him.” Elin grabbed his sleeve, wearing her heart in her eyes. “He’s planned all of this! He’s trying to get rid of his queen, and if he plants the seeds then he can have her murdered and lay the blame on our court, with none of her family the wiser.”

Marduk drew back. “Draco’s planned this?” He frowned. “That’s ridiculous. His wife and sister are—”

“Chaos-wielders,” Elin snapped. “Do you think it a mere happenstance? He and his sister are behind everything. They wish to rid themselves of Andromeda. You know it’s a mating forged by political means. Neither of them wish to remain handfasted after the terms of their mating contract is over, but to strike the mating asunder means Draco must return what her family gave him as dowry, and he wants to keep the key.”

“Where did you hear all of this?”

Elin gave a little shrug and a bitter smile. “I’m but a drekling, my prince. I’m invisible to the eyes of the dreki, in this court and any other court. Nobody ever looks at drekling for long enough. You hear all sorts of things.”

He scrubbed at his mouth. He’d sent Solveig there in good faith, certain that her father’s name would grant her safety.

What if he’d made a mistake?

She’s fine. If there’s anyone who can handle themselves in this treacherous court, it’s Solveig.

Still…. “It can’t be Draco. Why would he let his people die?”

“I don’t know.” She bit her lip. “But doesn’t it seem too much of a coincidence?”

Maybe it wasn’t his mother, back from the dead.

Maybe it was nothing more than some unfathomable plot dredged within the Zilittu king’s mind. Draco had overthrown his father, uncle, and twin brother, after all.

Or maybe he wanted to think that.

It would be far too easy to let his emotions toward the dreki king sway him, but as he’d claimed to Solveig, he wasn’t ruled by his urges to kill.

And that didn’t explain the death of Marthe.

Or the shattered emerald necklace.

“Solveig can handle herself,” he said, more to himself than to Elin. “We’ll wait and see what Draco has to say to her. Have you seen Andri?”

“If we wait, then it’s too late,” Elin said, her eyes darting over her shoulder as if she was afraid to say anything too loudly. “Andri knows where the key is. He’s gone to secure it. I think that was what he wanted to tell you. He sent me back to tell Malin and Árdís, and then this all happened.”

“The key?” That changed everything.

“Please, Marduk.” She bit her lip. “We have to help him. If we have the key, then we can rescue the others.”

Fuck. If Andri truly was housing his mother’s spirit, and she got her hands on the key…. “Where is it?”

“It’s not in the castle. Ishtar said she could feel it pulling her toward the north. There’s a set of caves nearby. They call it the Abyss, and it’s where their Chaos-wielders go to worship the goddess and their magic. It’s a sacred place, forbidden to most dreki. Nobody goes there.”

To rescue the key—a creation that could win the war against the alfar before it was begun? Or his sister and their company?

Damn it. He could handle Andri by himself. His magic was far superior to his cousin’s.

He needed to get his mother’s wraith as far away from the others as he could, before she could hurt anyone else. Amadea wouldn’t know about his connection to Ishtar. And she’d think Solveig would leave him there to die.

“Solveig will find me,” he murmured as he picked up the glowing emerald. “Where is this Abyss?”

20

One of Draco’s warriors entered the throne room, passing a slip of paper to the king.

Draco unfurled it, read it, and then his gaze locked on Solveig like a hound catching scent of the fox.

“What is it?” she demanded.

“So much for your belief in the Zini court’s honesty.” He crushed the letter in his hand and scowled at Solveig. “I start to see now. Did he think you would distract me?”

“Distract you?” Solveig’s glance stole toward the letter, as Andromeda took it from him. “What’s going on? Did something happen? Is it… Marduk?”

Please tell me he did not decide to go rescue a princess….

“Yes, Marduk. My beloved distant cousin.” He tossed the letter toward Andromeda. “He was just seen vanishing into the mountains, heading directly toward the Abyss.”

The color drained from Andromeda’s face.

“Maybe it wasn’t the sister we should have been looking for?” Draco growled. “Or maybe he’s going to find her. You said they were linked after all, and he can communicate with her.”

“What’s going on?” Solveig repeated.

“Seize her.” The king flicked his fingers toward his warriors.

The pair of them took two steps toward Solveig, and she summoned the merest stir of Air. “If you lay one hand on me, I will stop the breath in your lungs. You promised us guest-right.”

“Guest-right was obliterated the second someone in your party started killing my people,” the king snapped.

“You have no proof it was one of ours.” She loaded every inch of her voice with frost. “Are you willing to cost yourself your honor for such mere hints of conspiracy?”

“Mere hints?” Draco snarled. “Your party resisted being confined; you and your mate hid; and the incredibly powerful Chaos-wielder in your party simply vanished—”

“You tried to confine our party without cause, including a man whose mate is with child. If you expected Haakon to go quietly, then you’re a fool.”

“It wasn’t the dragon-slayer who resisted, but the princess herself.”

“Then ask yourself this…. If Árdís was involved, why did she not attack your guards with her magic? She could have removed them from existence.”

“She—"

“That’s enough.” Andromeda slowly lowered the missive and waved the guards away from Solveig. “Leave us.”

Both guards looked hesitantly toward their king.

“Draco.” Andromeda gave him an imperious look. “I am more than capable of handling Princess Solveig should she prove difficult. And I want to speak to you. Privately.”

“As the queen wishes.” He gave a curt nod to the guards, but every inch of him vibrated as if the dreki within was lashing its tail. The second the door shut behind his guards, his voice turned dangerously silky. “And what does my queen wish to discuss?”

“I think Solveig’s right,” Andromeda replied. “Queen Amadea was a powerful force of Chaos. And Klara herself confirmed there is a spell with which a dreki soul can be bound into an object. If the queen is back—”

“If.” Draco’s eyes half-lidded. “I find there are a great many secrets seemingly floating around. A queen’s wraith. My people being murdered with magic. And the Zini clan, here on the pretext of introducing two of their unlearned Chaos-wielders to mine. This trouble only started when the Zini party arrived.” His hard gaze locked on Solveig. “And let’s not pretend you haven’t been seen in areas of the castle which lend themselves to suspicion. You’re looking for something.”

“You doubt me?” Solveig asked as she unrelentingly threw him to the wolves. “Or maybe you’re the one with secrets? We speak of dreki souls being bound into objects, but maybe you would know the truth of that best?”

“What does she mean?” Andromeda asked.

Draco cut Solveig a hard glare.

“Does this have anything to do with Scorpius?” Andromeda advanced upon him.

Draco’s head turned toward his queen sharply.

His nostrils flared, and anger turned his eyes to gray ice. But his attention was still focused upon Andromeda.

Or her reaction, rather.

“Andromeda—"

“What have you done to Scorpius?” The queen’s voice thickened. “You said he was exiled. You said the matter was ended.”

“The matter is ended,” he snapped.

“And you claimed your brother is in the north with an army.” Andromeda’s breath hitched. “Did you lie to me?”

“I never lied,” he countered. “One of my scouts reported that my brother sought an army, and there was… suspicion he would claim the northern keep.”

Andromeda’s fists clenched. “I don’t know what is going on here, but she does. And you do. And I cannot help feeling as though some secret is being kept from me. I will have the truth.”

“Perhaps the pair of you can discuss it later,” Solveig broke in. “In private. Why would Marduk be going to the Abyss?”

Both king and queen glared at each other, but then Andromeda conceded with a nod. “You’re right. Marduk’s cause is more urgent. And Draco will tell me the truth when we have a chance.”

The king barely moved, both his hands clamped over the arms of his throne. “Later, then. In private. As to Marduk, who knows why he’s going to the Abyss? Perhaps he’s meeting his sister there.” He focused all his attention on Solveig. “Though I think you would have more knowledge of what he seeks.”

Stalemate.

“I doubt Ishtar has fled there,” the queen replied. “It’s an eerie place, and while I know you can’t feel the shadows hovering over it, every Chaos-wielder in the clan avoids it unless absolutely necessary to attend. It sets my teeth on edge even from here.”

“What is this Abyss?” Solveig’s heart skipped a beat.

She’d told him to stay where he was.

Why would he leave?

Why now?

Something had to have happened.

“It’s a prison,” Andromeda replied, “designed to hold dreki and Chaos-wielders alike.”

“It’s not a prison,” Draco corrected. “It’s a death penalty. If you are sentenced to the Abyss, then you die there.”

“There’s no reason for him to go there.” Unless…. That chill was creeping through her again. “Who is with him?”

Because it suddenly made sense.

Marduk wasn’t a fool—as often as she called him one, he’d shown a shrewdness even she had to admire. He wasn’t the sort of male to storm into battle without her, either.

Something had drawn him away.

Or someone.

“He’s bound to Ishtar,” she said breathlessly. “And Ishtar is the greatest Chaos-wielder born within generations. But she’s always protected. One of the Zini stays at her side, always.” Goddess’s breath. It all made sense now. “If Amadea captures Marduk, then Ishtar will come for him. She won’t realize she’s in danger until it’s too late. She loves her brother, and she would try to rescue him. Amadea would finally get her alone.”

Horror filled Andromeda’s eyes. “With Ishtar’s powers, such a Chaos-wielder would be virtually unstoppable.”

They both turned to Draco.

“It’s not Marduk behind all of this,” Solveig told him. “And I will tell you the whole truth of the matter, I promise. But I need to go. He’s in trouble. Who was with him?”

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “He was seen heading into the mountains with the blonde girl.”

A blonde girl? Solveig’s heart skipped a beat. “Elin?”

“The drekling,” he replied.

“Goddess’s mercy. Elin’s the killer. Elin’s the one with the queen inside her.”

“ARE you sure this is the right place?” Marduk asked, lifting the torch and staring into the hollow mouth of the cave.

Dusk settled over the mountains with a rosy caress. Soon it would be night, and visibility was already dropping. Shadows loomed.

“This is where the Zilittu worship the goddess,” Elin replied. “There’s a well of pure Chaos magic in the center of the cave. It’s a holy place that only their Chaos practitioners are allowed to enter.”

“You know a lot about this place.” He cut a look toward her.

“As I said, dreki talk.”

“And the key?”

“Hidden deep inside the heart of the Abyss.” She plucked a thin strip of cloak that was tangled in a bramble outside the cave. “This is Andri’s. He must already be here.” Her startled eyes met his. “If he gets to the key….”

“Then we are doomed.”

“Doomed?”

Marduk watched her very carefully. “We suspect my mother’s wraith survived her death. She’s possessed one of our party. Andri, perhaps. If she gets her hands on that key, then she will ruin us all.”

Elin sucked in a sharp gasp. “The queen is alive? And in Andri?”

“All the evidence seems to point to him.” But he couldn’t take his eyes off her face. “Klara warned us to look for personality changes. And my cousin has been quiet of late. You’d have to have noticed? I thought he was courting you, and then suddenly, he wasn’t.”

“Oh, my goodness,” she whispered in horror. “It all makes a terrible sense. He was so… so cruel to me. We have to stop her!”

He took a deep breath and stepped inside the cave, waving the torch. Cobwebs seared away from the flames. Nobody had been in here for a while, by the look of it.

Relax. Marduk closed his eyes and swallowed. The walls won’t cave in.

It had to be a cave.

“What’s wrong?” Elin whispered. “Are you afraid of the dark?”

“No.”

“Surely you’re not afraid of being underground?”

“I’m fine.”

He opened himself up, trying to search for the bond within him, the one that linked him to Ishtar. “Are you there?”

Only silence answered him, but he could sense her attention focusing upon him. She was somewhere far to the north.

“Whatever happens next,” he told her, “I don’t want you to come for me. No matter what you feel or hear. Stay away.”

“Marduk?” she whispered in his head.

“Find Solveig. She’ll protect you. Just stay far away from me. Promise?”

There was no answer.

Taking a deep breath, he entered the cave.

Someone had painstakingly carved Sumerian letters in the walls. He trailed his fingers over several of them, wishing he’d paid more attention to his tutors.

“They say, ‘Treachery is a rot that eats away at a clan. Those who deal it, must be silenced,’” Elin read.

Marduk’s steps began to slow. “I suppose your father taught you to read Sumerian?”

She laughed under her breath. “My father taught me many things, yes.”

“You’re lucky,” he murmured, “to have a father that loves you so much. Mine did too, and I miss him every day. I wish I’d been there when my mother died. I wish I could have looked her in the eye and wished her to Hel.”

Silence answered him, and then…. “That’s not a very nice thing to say. She did give you life, after all. She chose to let you live when Ishtar’s Chaos-warped form was revealed. You must have loved her once.”

Marduk ducked beneath a lintel and eased down a small flight of stairs, into a circular chamber.

There was nothing in front of him but a dead end.

No sign of Andri.

His heart started to race. Maybe that was a good thing, because it left him free to confront his mother, without any potential hostages.

Chaos-warped form.

He turned to face her, certain now. “Did I love my mother? How does one love a monster?”

Elin hovered in the archway, a mere slip of shadows with a hint of smoldering green in her eyes. “Even a monster deserves to be loved.”

“I asked your father once for help with my Sumerian, and he told me it wasn’t a language he was fluent in.”

She paused.

“And Andri can’t have come this way. There’s no sign of footprints in the dust, no break in the cobwebs.” He tilted his head toward the thin strip of wool she held. “Solveig found Andri’s cloak in Klara’s hut. I noticed then that it was missing a piece. You slipped up.”

“You’re right,” she purred. Taking the stairs one by one, she sauntered toward him, her shadow seeming to stretch across the floor. “The Loremaster of the clan doesn’t speak very good Sumerian. And Andri no longer has his cloak. I stole it from his room.”

He stared at her face. Her cheeks looked almost gaunt in the torchlight. She didn’t look like Elin. There was something almost vulpine about her expression, but the look in her eyes was familiar. Oh, so familiar.

“Mother.” Even breathing the word felt like he gave life to a ghost. “It was you. All along it was you.”

“I was hoping you’d be more surprised. I was looking forward to seeing the shock on your face.”

He breathed the fire in his veins as he watched her advance.

He was dreki, and even if she had managed to wield Chaos, she wasn’t impervious to his flames. “Maybe I just wanted to get you alone.”

“No matter.” Elin laughed, her voice turning smoky. “One last little spell, Marduk, in order to save my soul into the necklace I wore. And poor little Elin couldn’t help but put it on. It was so pretty, you see, and she’d never worn anything like it.

“I was wondering how long it would take you. You’re so pathetic, all of you.” Running her hands down her hips, she gave him a girlish smile. “All I have to do is bat these pretty blonde lashes and every dreki in the vicinity thinks I’m some precious virgin who needs to be protected. It’s been almost too easy.”

“What have you done with Andri?” he demanded, because his hopes of finding his cousin here were vanishing.

“I didn’t kill the little bitch, if that’s what you’re wondering. He’d guessed, and so he had to be dealt with.”

That little conversation Andri had wanted to have with him…. “Where is he?”

Elin drew a dagger from the sheath at her hip, light sparkling deep within the heart of the ruby in its hilt. She kissed the ruby. “You were the one who gave me the perfect idea to dispose of Andri. I found this locked away in a little chamber beneath Draco’s tower. The third beacon of Chaos magic you could sense.”

The heat drained out of his face.

“Draco doesn’t strike me as the kind of king to keep one trick up his sleeve. If he had one of the kunuk la’atzu knives, then he was bound to have the other,” she said. “They were a matched set, created thousands of years ago in Sumer in order to worship the goddess, my mother once told me. The old king had them locked away in his vault. And so, I just had to find the other one.”

Marduk stared at that restless sparkling light within the ruby in horror. Andri? “What did you do with his body?”

She merely smiled. “Someone will find it. One day.”

“And the key?”

“I was lying, Marduk.” She kept advancing. “I can do that now, you realize, because I don’t have any dreki magic. The key’s not here. I already have it secreted away elsewhere. I do have to thank you for delivering it directly into my hands. Now I have exactly what I need to deliver my vengeance upon all who ruined me. War is coming, Marduk, and I have new friends now. New allies. Together we will destroy everything the Zini and the Zilittu built.”

Marduk steeled himself. Solveig would have discovered him missing by now. He had to keep Amadea talking. If there was anything he knew about his mother, it was that she liked to gloat. “What have you done with Elin?”

And then mentally, he sent a spear of thought arching toward the keep. “Solveig?”

“That’s not the question you should be asking.” Elin snapped her fingers and suddenly a trio of torches of the walls flared to life, though they burned a sickly green. Chaos magic. “The question you should be asking is, what do I intend to do with you? This is the yawning Abyss of Zilittu. This is where they send their enemies to die. It seems fitting to bury you here. Alive.”

He lunged to the side—or tried to. His boots seemed to be stuck to the floor.

Marduk fell to his hands and knees. The torch hit the tiled floor in front of him, and suddenly his palms were glued to the floor too.

What the hell was she doing to him?

“Ah, ah, ah, Marduk. Traitors must be punished.” His mother knelt down to see his face. “That’s something my father taught me. Traitors must be crushed. They must be forgotten.”

In desperation, he sent a sweep of fire flaring toward her from the flickering torch.

It vanished as it came within a foot of her skirts. Amadea’s laughter died down. “Oh, Marduk.” She swept her palm over the floor in front of her. Dust parted, revealing a tiny set of brass runes chiseled into the floor. “Sumerian is the mother tongue,” she chided, pointing to the first word. “It is what the Goddess spoke when she wove Chaos into the world. And this ring here—” her palm slid across the floor revealing a curving line of words “—circles you entirely. It’s a void of magic. The moment you stepped over this line—albeit unknowingly—you became defenseless.”

He had to reach her. “Solveig!”

There was no answer. Only silence. Maybe it was the ring of spell work on the floor surrounding him.

She couldn’t hear him.

“Goodbye, my treacherous son. You will be the first of my children to die.” His mother pushed to her feet, brushing the dust from her skirts. “Though I assure you that you won’t be the last.”

“No—"

She spoke a word he didn’t understand.

The floor vanished beneath him.

He was suddenly kneeling on nothing; only a thin web of Chaos magic lay interlaced beneath his feet.

His stomach plunged into the abyss far below.

“Solveig!” he screamed as he plummeted into the darkness.

Reaching desperately for his dreki, he tried to claw at the air around him.

His wings…. His wings wouldn’t work. There was some strange weight settling over his mortal skin, trapping the dreki within him. Marduk screamed as the abyss swallowed him whole.

And then the earth rushed up to capture him in its gaping maw.

He slammed into solid rock, screaming as his shoulder popped from its socket and several ribs shattered. Tumbling over uneven ground, he finally fetched up against something hard and angular.

The torch landed beside him, still burning.

Goddess’s mercy. Every inch of him felt ablaze with pain. There was no air in his lungs. No movement in his right leg. Nothing but darkness and pain and the silent groaning of the earth as the torchlight flickered… and died.

A SLIM FIGURE slipped from the cave, tugging her hood over her blonde hair.

Solveig waited until the last possible moment and then stepped out from behind her tree, pressing the edge of her blade against the drekling’s throat.

Elin froze.

Solveig smiled, letting the wolf slip its leash for a moment. “I finally figured it out. An uprising within the Zini court. Hints of malicious Chaos magic lingering. Both Marduk and Ishtar searching for any trace of its practitioner, and yet all Ishtar could find was a shattered emerald necklace that once belonged to the evil bitch who spawned the Zini king and his siblings.”

Elin blinked at her, giving a good approximation of innocence. “What are you talking about?”

Solveig stepped forward, pressing the cold iron directly against the girl’s carotid. She grabbed Elin by the throat. “I know who you are. Or who is inhabiting this body. Where is Marduk? Where is your son?”

Innocence sloughed away. “Well, well, you are smarter than the average dreki warrior. The rest of them don’t have a clue. Be careful, Solveig. Nobody knows we’re here. There could be all manner of surprises in store for you.”

“Nobody?” Solveig laughed, and right on cue, someone called her name. It echoed through the forest. “Did you think I came alone? Draco has entire hordes of his guards scouring these woods.”

“Does he?” The woman who was now Amadea actually smiled. “It’s a shame they’ll be too late.”

“I’ll cut your throat,” she promised. “Even you won’t survive a second time.”

“And kill the girl? You’ll break poor Andri’s heart. He’s still besotted with her. And she’s still in here. Still screaming on the inside, trying to get out.”

A heartbeat ticked out.

Another.

Solveig made herself smile again. “You assume I care about the girl?” Shoving the queen backward, she slammed her against the cave wall. “The guards aren’t here yet. Nobody will witness this. Andri’s heart might break, but who will ever suspect I killed poor Elin?”

“What a pity I didn’t take you. Wearing your skin would have suited me very well.” Amadea slid a finger down Solveig’s cheek. “But then, it would have been slightly awkward for one to inhabit the body of one’s son’s mate. Especially when you’re falling in love with him. You haven’t asked, Solveig. You haven’t asked what I’ve done with Marduk.” She pitched her voice higher in mimicry. “Where is Marduk? Where is your son?” She laughed as she reached up and caressed the hand that gripped her throat. “More to the point, you should have asked: What have you done to him?”

A little frisson of doubt worked its way through her. “You haven’t killed him.”

“Haven’t I?”

Despite the fact she held the knife, she was startled to realize Amadea was pushing toward her and she was giving ground. “I would know.”

“In your bones?” Amadea asked with a dreamy smile. “In your skin? In your heart?” Another laugh. “I’ve seen you mooning over him—crawling at his feet for him. What a joke you are, Solveig. What a disappointment. You call yourself a queen in the making, and yet you beg for the merest snippet of my son’s attention.”

She gets inside your head, Marduk had said quietly, and she makes you believe all the worst fears you have about yourself.

But two could play that game.

“Do you know what truly is pathetic?” Solveig mused. “You birthed four children into this world, and every single one of them hates you. My father always said your husband was an honorable man. King Reynar was a giant among dreki, revered far and wide for his strength of will, his loyalty, and his empathy. Did you hold them in your arms, Amadea, and know they would love him more than they would ever love you? Did you kiss their brows as you placed them in their cradles, desperate to try and bind them to your side before his influence could seduce them? You looked at them and you were alone, weren’t you? Just as you are now. Your brother’s dead. You died. And you’re trapped inside a body without access to dreki magic. How that must gall. You’re alone and unloved and that is how you will die. A second time.”

“Do you want to know a little secret, Solveig?” Amadea leaned toward her, all smiles and teeth. “I never said I was alone. I’ve found some new friends. And one of them is very intent on meeting you again.”

Suddenly, Solveig realized the woods were quiet. Not a single bird chirped. Not a single rodent scurried in the undergrowth. The shouts she’d heard from Draco’s soldiers were eerily silenced.

Elin stared over Solveig’s shoulder. “Kill her.”

“With pleasure,” said the sweetest, most melodic voice she’d ever heard.

And then the hiss of an arrow filled the air, and pain exploded through Solveig’s back.

21

There was nothing more than silence. Nothing but the earth pressing in upon him. Marduk tried to summon Fire, but it was as though his dreki magics were completely muted. The walls were as smooth as diamonds, without a single handhold to be found.

And he was injured.

Think, damn it.

He hobbled one way and then another, his boots crunching over bones. He’d found them earlier, and their existence made him feel ill.

He was standing on top of a mountain of bones.

Nobody was coming to find him.

Nobody would hear him calling for help.

Sliding down the wall, he rested his elbows on his knees.

He couldn’t reach Solveig.

And he didn’t want Ishtar anywhere near this.

A sound echoed through the caves.

Marduk’s head snapped upward, his heart surging with relief. Goddess, I’m not alone. Someone is—

Screaming.

Marduk froze.

Because he knew the sound of that voice.

Knew that furious bellow, even if he’d never heard her sound like this before. Pained. Desperate. Helpless.

“Solveig?” He threw himself at the cliff, trying to find purchase in its sheer sides.

Pain screamed through the shoulder he’d shoved back into place, but it was no good. He wasn’t getting out of here. He wasn’t going to be able to help her.

“Fuck!” Marduk hammered the flat of his palm against the stone. “Damn you. Help!” he yelled. “Help!”

Another scream tore through the world.

What was his mother doing to her?

His dreki magic was muted. He couldn’t shift. He couldn’t escape this pit.

He couldn’t help her.

His dreki went mad inside him.

“Solveig! Solveig!” He screamed for her, tearing his fingers to the bones as he tried to scrabble at smooth rock.

There was no answer. Nothing but silence.

Silence and the edge of that bloody song that haunted him.

The one he should never have been able to hear.

Marduk fell still, his chest heaving as he slowly looked up.

The song.

Chaos.

His mother had said this was a well of Chaos.

And he was linked to such magic through Ishtar. Dreki magic wouldn’t work in here—the entire place was wrapped in chains of Chaos, intended to hold even the most powerful dreki.

What had Ishtar once said?

“It’s like looking through the fabric of the world. Seeing through the curtains of reality and finding the weft of the magic that binds the world together. There is Order—static and calm and unmalleable—and then there is Chaos, like a beautiful conflagration of wildfire that threatens to consume everything. When you take the weft of it, it’s like taking the reins on a bucking horse. There’s nothing you can’t create.”

Males couldn’t weave Chaos magic. But he was linked to Ishtar. And they’d been communicating for months, so that he barely even had to think the thought for her to hear it.

What if… he could use that conduit the other way?

What if he could somehow channel his sister’s link to Chaos magic in order to wield it himself?

Solveig screamed again.

Fuck it.

“Come on,” he whispered, placing his palms against the rock face and closing his eyes.

He’d tried to catch hints of that song when he was searching for Ishtar, but he’d never truly leaned into it. It wasn’t for him. He knew that instinctively. But it had become easier to both see and hear Chaos running through the world with every second he spent with his sister.

A light buzz of magic hummed through his palms. Marduk’s heart kicked into overdrive. It was like a jolt of energy directly into his veins.

He gave in to everything.

To the furious nature of the dreki inside him, desperate to save the woman he loved.

To the song of Chaos streaming through his veins so swiftly, it felt like his heart was going to smash its way out of his chest.

“Get me out of here.” He threw the thought desperately into the void, and as he flung his arms wide, Chaos finally caught him in its grip.

It wrenched him apart, and then the sort of pain he’d never felt before tore through every single molecule of his body.

A glance down revealed his mortal body, slack-jawed and gaping, as Marduk spread wings of green fire. A spirit form woven of pure Chaos.

He caught his mortal body in his claws—enormous wings soaring wide as he launched himself into the air and thrust toward the mouth of the pit—and even if someone was driving an iron spike right between his eyes, he could handle the pain.

He just had to get to Solveig….

SOLVEIG SCRAMBLED BACK AGAINST AN OAK, trying to grind her teeth through the pain. Darkness threatened to haul her under, and suddenly there were three images of the elf stalking toward her with a sly little smile curling over his mouth.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment for many, many days,” Tyndyr said, and somehow the twisted delight in his voice made her stomach clench.

“Choke on iron, you little bitch,” Solveig gasped, capturing hold of the arrow in her chest and trying not to faint as she broke it in two.

A wave of pain swept over her. Mother. Goddess. She’d been stabbed before, but this… this was a new level of hell.

Tyndyr nocked another arrow to his bow and drew it easily. “I wonder how many arrows it will take to kill you. Careful now, this one’s going to hurt.”

“Just kill her, Tyndyr,” Amadea snapped. “We need to get out of here with that key before they realize something is amiss with Elin.”

“Nobody’s going to realize anything.”

“She did,” Amadea snapped.

“Trust me,” he purred. “Consider her lips sealed.”

And then Solveig screamed as the second arrow slammed into her abdomen.

The world vanished. She blinked and came to, her fingers curled into the leafy loam beneath her and her cheek pressed into moss. Shoving to her knees felt like a hot poker was dragging through her gut. One of her hands curled around the arrow there. Gritting her teeth, she broke it in two, shaking with sweat and trying not to vomit.

Just needed to… push it… through….

If she could shift shapes, she’d be able to heal herself to some degree.

But the dreki within her was elusive, and every time she reached for her heart, her soul, it was like trying to capture mist in her hands.

It had to be the arrows. Something… on them. Goddess, had he painted them with leviathan blood?

A boot came out of nowhere, driving hard into her abdomen.

Solveig flipped and landed flat on her back, screaming again as the two arrows ground against bone. She saw stars and tried to… roll….

A foot ground into the side of her face, shoving her cheek into the dirt again. “Can’t reach your dreki, can you?” Tyndyr crooned as he set another arrow to his bow. “I’d love to stay and play a little longer, but alas, my friend does plead a good case. Goodbye, my sweet, sweet morsel.”

And then he drew the bow back again, and Solveig could see the point of that arrow, barely a foot from her temple.

No. No. Not like this.

She grabbed his boot, but trying to move it was like trying to shift solid rock. “Get… off…”

Tyndyr ground his boot down harder, and Solveig screamed in rage and impotent fury—

And then the world exploded in a clash of raging green fire that filled her with a lightness of being she’d never expected.

Tyndyr was gone.

The bow was gone.

Solveig managed to make it back to her knees, freezing when she saw an insubstantial dreki carved of pure green fire tearing at the elf.

Chaos magic.

Her heart leapt. Ishtar? Or Árdís?

And then she froze as she saw the curve of those familiar wings. It was superimposed over Marduk’s mortal body, moving him as though he was a puppet.

Amadea’s eyes widened, and she bolted into the trees. Tyndyr scrambled through the undergrowth after her.

Marduk bellowed, the sound so high-pitched, it echoed as if the earth was tearing apart.

And then the dreki spirit-form collapsed in upon itself, dumping his mortal body on the ground in a dispersing cloud of green vapor.

“Marduk?” She hauled herself toward him, but he was screaming, his ragged fingers torn and bloody as he pressed them to his eyes. “Marduk!”

They weren’t safe out here.

What was wrong with him?

She couldn’t see any obvious signs of injury, though her own vision was blinking in and out of blackness.

A branch broke somewhere to her left. Solveig froze. Not alone. Tyndyr and Elin might have run for cover, but that didn’t mean they weren’t still dangerous.

Hauling him toward the cave, she used her last ounce of physical energy to create a shield of pure Air over the cave mouth.

And then she collapsed back against the walls, Marduk in her lap.

He’d stopped screaming, but the sobs that wracked him almost made her shudder. Solveig tipped her head back. He’d come for her. She didn’t know how he’d done it, but just when she’d been thinking this life was over, he’d come for her.

A single tear slid down her cheek as she brushed his hair off his brow. “Thank you,” she whispered, because no one had ever rescued her.

And suddenly she wanted to cry, because it felt like that moment she’d begged her mother to start breathing all over again. But this time she’d arrived in time. This time she’d managed to get to him before it was too late.

Even if that smug prick had put two arrows in her.

Breathing hard, Solveig looked down at the front of her blood-stained shirt. The broken shafts of both arrows still stuck out of her. She didn’t think she even had the strength to push them through her skin.

Shadows moved to the left of her.

Tyndyr paced in front of her shield of air like a wolf eyeing a den full of baby rabbits.

He leaned on his bow. “I can’t come in. But you can’t come out. How are those wounds feeling, little dreki? Do they itch? Just a little?”

She hadn’t really noticed until he said the words.

Solveig wrapped her arm around Marduk and ground her teeth together. “When I get out of here… you smarmy little frogfucker, I’m going to tear your… head… from your shoulders.”

Tyndyr blew her a kiss as he backed away. “Darling, by the time an hour has passed, you’ll be scratching the flesh from your bones. Think of me when you claw your own throat out.”

22

“Damn you, wake up,” a voice hissed.

Something struck his face.

Marduk winced. It wasn’t as painful as the hole someone had slowly drilled between his eyes, but it was more immediate.

He tried to blink his eyes open, but he didn’t have the energy.

“Please” came a soft whisper. “Please wake up. I need you.” A gentle hand cupped his cheek. “I’m not proud to admit this, but I need you to wake up, because I don’t think I have much more… time.”

Time.

Goddess. Solveig.

He swam through levels of consciousness, urged on by the pain ravaging her voice. The ache in his temples felt like someone had put a pistol to his forehead and pulled the trigger, but he forced it aside.

She needed him.

She, who never begged. She, who never surrendered.

Marduk surfaced with a gasp. Pain flooded away. The dizziness sloughed off. She needed him, and that was all that mattered.

“Solveig,” he rasped. “What’s wrong?”

Solveig leaned back against the wall beside him, her entire body shaking as she shoved at something in her abdomen. Sweat dripped down her face, and she ground her teeth together before finally slumping back against the wall with a choked scream.

“One,” she whispered hoarsely.

Blood. He could smell blood.

Marduk scrambled to his hands and knees as she slowly toppled toward him. “Goddess’s mercy!” He caught her in his arms as an arrow head hit the cave floor with a metallic chink. Hot blood washed over his hands. She’d pushed the arrow through her flesh. “Are you all right?” What a stupid question. “How badly are you hurt?”

She shuddered and looked up at him with wide, strangely innocent eyes that made her look years younger. It was as though pain stripped away the hard layers she guarded herself with. “One to… go.”

He propped her against the wall and tugged the edges of her shirt apart, finding two bloody holes in her. The abdomen wound was probably the worst, though she’d managed to get the arrow out.

As for her chest…. The tip of an arrow breeched her skin an inch above her nipple, but he could see where the rest of it was caught against her ribs. A breath hissed through his teeth. “What happened?”

“That bastard shot me. Twice.” She dug her fingers into her palm. “There was something on the arrows. It…. It feels like it’s burning me… from the inside out.”

A tear slid down her face, and it nearly broke him because he knew what it cost her to allow him to see it.

“I can’t push this one through,” he told her, trying to be gentle as he examined it. “We’ll have to cut your ribs open. Can you wait until I get you back to the Zilittu castle?”

There was something small about her voice. “He said I’d tear my own throat out before the hour was up.”

Every inch of him knotted in two. “How bad is it?”

Solveig met his gaze with haunted eyes. “It’s been ten minutes. And I w-want to… scratch every inch of skin off already.”

She was shaking. Badly.

He didn’t have time to get her back to the castle.

“You’re not going to like my suggestion.”

“I’ll take a-anything.”

He held his hands up, summoning strands of Fire between his fingertips. “If I knock you unconscious, I can cut the arrow out and then use my magic to burn the poison out of your blood.” He swallowed. “It’s going to hurt, and it will take days to recover.”

And she would be entirely vulnerable.

“I can… handle the pain. Take me back… to the castle.”

“Solveig.” He reached down and brushed a kiss to her forehead, feeling as though his own chest was torn open. “Stop being so brave. Trust me. Trust me. I can heal you. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you while you’re unconscious.”

It took a long, breathless moment for her to speak.

“Have you ever done this before?” she whispered.

“Partly. I spent months in Morocco with a dreki clan there. One of their healers had the gift of Fire, and when a puff adder bit one of their children, he burned the venom from her blood. He showed me how it was done.”

Solveig shuddered, as if a new wave of pain wracked her. And then she finally nodded. “Don’t let anything happen to me.”

“On my life,” he whispered, kissing her lips and then pressing his fingertips to her temples.

Even as she shuddered, she lowered her psychic shields, and as he tried to tell her how much she meant to him with his kiss, he knocked her unconscious.

MARDUK SLID into the cool silk sheets behind Solveig and curled his body around her. He’d managed to carry her back to court, and the healers had seen to her.

He could barely remember snarling something at Draco when the king strode to intercept them, like, “Get out of my way or I’ll rip your throat out.”

Draco had demanded to know what had happened.

“Elin,” he’d gasped. “My mother’s spirit has overtaken Elin. She’s the one killing your Chaos-wielders, and she’s working with Tyndyr.”

And then the rest of the night was a blur.

Solveig still hadn’t woken.

Black, sluggish tar seeped from the wounds in her chest, as if poison was welling up from deep within her. Dark shadows smudged beneath her eyes, and it was disconcerting to realize that the force of nature he knew was still and quiet and surprisingly small beneath the blankets.

Her scream had been the worst sound he’d ever heard in his life.

Seeing her in so much pain tore something inside him.

But this…. Having her lie so vulnerable in his arms roused a protective side of him that he’d never known.

Marduk snuggled into her, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his face into the slope of her nape.

“Get better,” he whispered, for he hated seeing her so undone. “Please get better, Solveig.” The words caught in his throat. “I hate seeing you like this. You were born to be a storm. Please wake up.”

23

A rap came at the door.

Solveig stirred with a whimper, but Marduk set his fingertips to her temple and whispered, “Sleep.”

She surrendered to his suggestion, and as he slipped from the bed and tucked the blankets carefully over her shoulders, Marduk felt the dreki within him rise.

Nobody had dared bother them all night.

Solveig was safe in his rooms, in his bed, and in his arms, and if anyone thought they were going to disturb her then he’d—

“Marduk,” Árdís called. “Open the bloody door. We need to talk.”

His temper eased. Árdís. Árdís was welcome. She liked Solveig and wouldn’t dare try to take her from his rooms.

Hauling on a pair of trousers, he ripped the door open. “What?”

His sister arched a brow, then poked him in the chest. “You look like someone struck you with a bolt of lightning.” Peering over his shoulder, her thoughtful gaze returned to his. “Hmm.”

“Hmm, what?”

“Are you going to let me in or simply stand there like some sort of overbearing dreki male in the first flushes of true mating?”

The words shocked him enough to force him to stand aside. “I’m not—”

Árdís made a rude, snorting sound as she ducked under his arm. “Of course not, Marduk. I’d never dare suggest you were starting to get all overprotective and growly. You’re absolutely not hovering over Solveig’s bed like you’d rip someone’s arm off just for looking at her. That would be ridiculous. It would mean admitting you had feelings for her. And if she overheard you say that, she’d be horrified.”

Sisters. The bane of his existence.

Or no, only one of them was a bane.

The other was a delight.

“Why are you here?”

Árdís set her hands on her hips. “Because Draco seemed to think that sending anyone else might end in bloodshed.”

“He set you free?”

“He allowed one of us to go free. I volunteered. Haakon took that about as well as a bear with a sore tooth, but I assured him that if the Zilittu king tried to hurt me, I’d rip his soul clean out of his body.” A wicked smile curved her lips. “Draco actually turned a little green.” Her smile faded. “Now tell me what happened? Is Solveig all right? What did you say? Draco wants to know about Tyndyr.”

Fuck. The key. Elin. His mother. Marduk pinched the bridge of his nose. His first instinct should have been to alert the others, but the second he’d hauled Solveig’s unconscious body into his arms, the dreki had overtaken him and all it had cared about was getting her to safety.

Maybe there was some truth to Árdís’s words.

The words spilled from him as he slumped on the edge of the bed.

“Elin,” Árdís whispered a little sadly. “It will break Malin’s heart.” She cursed under her breath. “I should have foreseen it. Do you think mother poisoned their father, Sigmund? He’s been so ill of late, and Rurik was so grateful that Elin could take over his duties.”

He hadn’t even thought of that.

“If she poisoned Sigmund….” He looked into Árdís’s eyes. “Then she wanted to come here from the start. She planned this. She needed to get her hands on either Ishtar or the key, and now we’ve led her straight to it.”

“I’ll tell the king the entire truth. If the elves have the key, then they’re going to try to open the portal at World’s End. We’ll need to gather all our warriors and surround it. Word shall have to be sent to every dreki court in the lands. We don’t know how many of them there are.” She hesitated. “They found Andri’s body.”

Jesus. He’d almost forgotten. “Is he—?”

“Alive.” Árdís bit her lip. “Though that is the best that can be said of him. Mother stabbed him with the kunuk la’atzu, and hid his body in one of the tunnels. There’s no sign of the soulstone, or the knife.”

“She has it. How bad is he?”

“He won’t wake,” she admitted. “His body is there, he’s breathing, but… his soul is gone. Sirius is sitting with him. We need to find the kunuk la’atzu and hope his soul is still trapped within the stone.”

“Mother never casts away a weapon she can use.”

“Thankfully.”

Marduk sighed and dropped his head into his hands.

A hand came to rest upon his shoulder. “Are you all right? You’ve barely lifted your head.”

He looked up sharply—and nearly fell off the bed as a wave of blazing pain went through him. But there was sincerity in her face.

Árdís cared.

She truly cared.

And he laughed under his breath as he realized that his mother had wrought more damage upon him than he’d ever realized.

For months he’d resided at Hekla, doing what he could to assist his family in repairing the fractured court. But Solveig had been right. Maybe her walls were cold steel, but his heart was just as guarded.

Because even though he’d been there physically, he hadn’t let them in.

“I’m fine. Just dabbling with magic I shouldn’t touch. I missed you,” he said. “I wish I’d taken you with me when I fled the court all those years ago.”

Sorrow darkened her eyes. “I wasn’t ready.”

“I shouldn’t have given you a choice.”

“But then I would never have met Haakon. Then I wouldn’t be carrying his child within me.” She pressed her hands to her abdomen, her smile beatific. “Without rainy days, one wouldn’t appreciate the sunny ones as much as one should. I survived. We all survived. And maybe that bitch isn’t quite finished yet, but I don’t doubt the four of us can destroy her.”

“Whoever thought you would turn out to be the pragmatic one?”

Árdís ran her hands through his hair with a smile. “Whoever would have thought you would turn out to be the rescuing-dreki-princesses one?”

“Oh, I’ve rescued more than a few dreki princesses in my time.” He glanced down at the still figure on the bed. “Though never one who doesn’t want to be rescued.”“She means something to you, doesn’t she?”

He took one of Solveig’s hands in his. “Do you ever feel like your life keeps circling back to one dreki?”

“Not a dreki, no, but one man? Yes.” She brushed the hair off his temples. “Haakon has always been the eye of my storm. Even when I was fighting against my fate, I couldn’t escape him.”

“She’s always been the eye of my storm, but I don’t feel… anything else.”

It was a confession that soured his soul.

And Árdís knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Some true matings take time,” she said hesitantly.

“Sirius knew. Rurik knew. But it’s been ten years, and while I’m drawn to her, there’s nothing… more.”

He’d heard others speak of the blaze of lightning that ignited within them when their dreki knew they’d found their other half.

Árdís knelt in front of him. “Do you want her, Marduk?”

“There’s always been lust and longing, but it wasn’t until I was in that cave, listening to her scream, that I realized I would do anything—give my own life—to make sure she survived.” He took a shuddering breath. “Do I want her? Yes. Desperately.”

And he wanted there to be more to it than mere need.

He wanted what his brother and sister had.

Árdís sighed under her breath. “Then be with her, Marduk. There doesn’t have to be anything more to it than that.”

But for the first time in his life, he yearned for it.

“YOU WERE RIGHT,” Marduk told his brother, staring into the flames in the hearth. “Mother’s still here.”

And then he explained everything that had happened at the abyss to Rurik and the Zini delegation who had gathered in his room.

There was a solemn silence once he’d finished.

Sirius broke it. “Fuck,” he snarled, kicking the chair he’d been resting his hand upon. “Fuck.” And then he turned to Malin. “You’re—”

“Don’t you even dare,” Malin said, pushing to her feet with her eyes blazing. “That is my sister. I am not going to tuck tail and run, just because the queen bears you a vendetta and will probably do her best to kill me. Elin has been there for me at every moment of my life.” She pressed her fingertips to her temples. “I knew something was wrong with her. I knew it. But the queen… she played such a good part. Elin always longed to fly, and after I became dreki I couldn’t help but feel guilty that she had not. I thought it was just that.”

Árdís wrapped an arm around Malin’s shoulders. “My mother is evil,” she said, squeezing the shorter woman. “But she is also cunning and she knows how to twist another dreki in knots of guilt. It’s not your fault. A great many things have happened to you over the past six months, and along with your transformation, it made sense for there to be resentments.”

Malin’s brown eyes gleamed with unshed tears. “I cannot believe how selfish I’ve been….”

Árdís shot Sirius a hug-her-you-idiot-and-stop-being-an-overprotective-Neanderthal kind of look and then pushed the pretty young dreki into his arms.

Marduk turned back to the fire, where he could just make out his brother’s amber eyes in the flames. “You’re quiet.”

“I’m thinking,” Rurik sighed, and then he turned his attention upon Sirius. “If she’s working with the alfar, then you need to get that key back and get those gates closed. Now.” He swore under his breath, “Marduk?”

“Yes?” Marduk straightened.

“This is no longer a single dreki court’s problems. Harald needs to know. And you need to alert Draco. I’m coming to Norway.”

“That is a terrible idea,” Árdís exploded. “The Zilittu are playing games with us.”

“The Zilittu are always playing games,” Rurik replied grimly. “But unless Draco wants to be curtsying to the king of Álfheimr, then he needs to set aside any past grievances and work with me. Organize it.”

Marduk scrubbed at his jaw. “I may not be the best dreki for this job. Draco and I….”

“Then become the best dreki for this job,” Rurik snarled. “Freyja and I arrive in two days. Make sure our path is cleared.”

MARDUK FOUND the king atop the tower.

Draco rested both hands on the battlements and stared down into the evening dusk. He was so absorbed in whatever he was watching that he flinched slightly when Marduk came within reach of him.

“If I was a different sort of dreki, then you would be dead, Your Highness,” Marduk noted, leaning on the battlements and trying to see what had caught the king’s attention.

Andromeda and Viveka were shooting at targets in the bailey. Viveka—as entrancing as she was—wasn’t what had caught the dreki king’s attention. Andromeda threw her head back and laughed, and even from here the sound of it floated.

Ah. Marduk’s eyebrows rose. A great many things suddenly made sense. “I see I’m not the only one you’re trying to stir jealousy within.”

Draco cut him a scathing look. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching you pine over the one woman you can’t have.”

His arrow found its target. The king’s nostrils flared, and he turned toward Marduk, his knuckles flexing.

“If Solveig thinks you were playing games with her in order to spite another woman, she’ll kill you,” Marduk pointed out. “I’ll even hold her coat.”

“What makes you think they were games? Solveig’s a powerful dreki queen with an incredibly formidable nature.”

“On that we agree. But she’s mine. And if you try to take her again, I will kill you myself.”

“Is there a point to this?”

“You wanted to know why we were truly here,” he said simply.

“Tell me.”

Draco was a typical dreki king. He’d never believe that he could be made to kneel before one of the alfar until it was too late. It had been so long since the gates to Álfheimr were open that few dreki who still lived in this world believed in the danger of their existence. They were a myth. An old war between their ancestors. And the tales were terrible, but truly, that sort of thing wouldn’t happen here, in this lifetime.

“My mother’s spirit is still on this place of existence,” he said instead. “She’s currently riding Elin’s body and she has the reins. She’s plotting to overthrow our king, but to do that she needs allies. And she’s found them. Yesterday, Tyndyr—the alfar king’s general—nearly killed Solveig and trapped me in the Abyss.”

“A terrible problem for your king.”

“Alas for you, the problem is not contained to one court. You wanted to know who’s been killing your Chaos-wielders, but have you thought of the consequences now we know who it is?” He gestured toward the courtyard below them. “Elin has no magic for my mother to work with. She wants a new dreki to inhabit. One who does have Chaos magic. My sisters are protected, but I wonder… who will she choose? Viveka? Or Andromeda? One of your other Chaos-wielders?” He shook his head. “No. I think the biggest target is Andromeda. She’s the most powerful Chaos-wielder in your clan. She sleeps alone. And while this castle might be protected, my mother was born here. She knows every inch of stone in this place, and how to creep through it unseen. If she comes back, she will take Andromeda, and none of us can stop her.”

His earlier assessment had been correct, for a dark fire came into the king’s eyes. “How do we kill her? For good?”

AFTER HE’D SEEN the king, he ventured toward Andri’s room.

A sharp rap brought a low-voiced, “Enter.”

The room was dark, the single candle burning low. Sirius sat by the bed, his hands clasped between his knees, and his long dark hair tangled over his shoulders. He wasn’t bothering with the eyepatch in here, and the scar where his left eye used to be was thick and gnarled.

It was a stark reminder: Sirius had turned on his father and his queen in a crucial moment, and according to Árdís, he was the only reason Rurik sat on his throne.

“How is he?” Marduk murmured as he approached the bed.

The other male sat back in his chair, looking exhausted. “Empty. He’s empty. The spark that makes him my brother is gone.”

Marduk sat on the other side of the bed.

Andri lay between them, still and pale.

“We’ll get him back,” he whispered. “My mother will have his soul, which means we can get him back.”

Sirius scrubbed a hand over his stubble. “Yes. But at what cost?”

Silence bloomed, tense and wary.

And then Sirius broke it.

“Andri is everything that I am not,” he said. “He was always my heart. My conscience. He was the one thing that kept me from becoming a monster all those years.”

“I don’t think you were ever a monster.” They were difficult words to conjure. “You claim it is Malin and Andri who held your honor, but you were never…. You were never like them.”

“I killed your father.” There was a dark, bottomless pit of horror in the other dreki’s eyes. “I see his blood on my hands every night.”

And fuck, it was like a knife twisting in Marduk’s chest. “I see it too. I see his blood on the floor. Drenching the rug.” He forced himself to blink out of those memories. “But you never killed my father. You were merely the instrument my mother wielded.”

Silence fell again, but this time….

Sirius gave him a curt nod. “Thank you.”

“She’s the true enemy,” he murmured. “And we will end her. Together.”

24

Solveig woke sometime early in the morning.

Marduk slipped onto the bed behind her, easing her shoulders up against his chest.

“Here.” He lifted a cup of broth to her lips, and she grabbed at the small cup and tried to drain it.

Her throat was so dry the thin soup burned. But she wanted more. Every inch of her clamored for food. She needed to regain her strength.

A gentle hand soothed her hair. “Don’t ever do that again,” Marduk whispered.

Solveig surrendered to his embrace. She was too tired to fight him. “Do what?”

“Risk yourself for me.”

She tilted her head back. He looked down, his amber eyes filled with some sort of emotion she didn’t think she could name.

“I didn’t risk myself for you. I risked myself for this world. That smirking elf—” She managed to sling her legs over the side of the bed, and then clapped a hand to her ribs. “What happened? How did we get here?”

“I carried you.” His voice roughened. “And you can lie as much as you want to, but I was there, Solveig. You came for me, and I’ll never forget it.”

“Let me get out of bed,” she said with a wince.

“You’re injured.”

And there were some bodily functions that simply couldn’t be contained. “I need to use the water closet.”

Marduk found her dark green silk robe. “Here.” He slid it over her shoulders, and then she was directed toward the wash chamber. “Let me—”

She stopped him with one hand. “The day I need someone to help me to the water closet is the day they bury me. You’re not entering.”

Frustration etched notches between his brows. “You’re going to fall flat on your face.”

“No,” she said, “I won’t.”

“So fucking stubborn.”

“So fucking arrogant,” she retorted.

But he let her shut the door in his face.

It hurt more than she’d thought it would to walk, and every movement was slower than she’d have liked.

By the time she finally eased the door open, she was panting.

Marduk growled, and slid under her arm. “Sit before you fall flat on your face.”

Solveig bared her teeth at him. “I am not going to—”

“I know.” He rolled his eyes. “You are Solveig the Fierce, and no mere elf is going to be your undoing. You’ll maintain your feet through sheer willpower, if necessary.”

He eased her into a seat.

“I won’t tell anyone that your knees are shaking.” There was a smile on his lips in the mirror as he brushed her hair out.

“You summoned Chaos,” she said.

Marduk’s hands paused, then he resumed his brushing, laying her hair out over the back of the chair like a silken waterfall. “I don’t even want to think about that moment. My mind still hasn’t recovered.” He shuddered. “My dreki magics were trapped within me, and I was desperate—”

“Desperate?”

Marduk met her gaze in the mirror. “Yes. Desperate. I could hear you screaming, and there’s not a single sound in the world that has ever chilled me so. I needed to get to you. And so I found a way to do so.” He shuddered again. “Though I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Solveig curled in on herself a little. What was he saying? That he’d been worried about her?

Desperate.

She didn’t know what to do with that word.

Marduk gathered her hair in a sheaf and then ran his fingers through it. There was something infinitely gentle about the gesture. “I can almost sense you trying to pick my words apart, so I’ll state it plainly. You nearly died, and it scared me so badly I can’t keep pretending. I would have given my life in that moment, if you were safe. I would have done anything to rescue you.”

A little shiver worked its way through her. “Marduk—”

“No.” He captured her chin and turned her head, bending down to kiss her. “You will listen to me this time so that none of my intentions can be misconstrued. This may have begun in enmity, this may have become nothing more than passion, but it is not going to end that way.” Soft lips brushed against her cheek, her ear. “You are mine, Solveig. Mine. And I’m not going to let you go without a fight. If someone tries to hurt you, I will kill them. If someone stands in your way, then I will remove them. And once this is all done and you are absolved of your debt to the Zini court, then I will fight for you. I know you want this handfasting to be over, but I’m not done, Solveig.”

Her heart started thumping. “That’s not your decision.”

“I know.” He pressed one knee between hers, forcing them wider. “Which means I need to convince you to take this risk.”

Solveig looked up at him as he knelt on the chair, one knee thrust between hers.

And he kissed her.

Gently. Softly.

Pouring his heart and soul into the caress until she was barely breathing.

Her heart started to skip a beat, and she leaned into the kiss, desperately hungry for more.

Marduk captured her wrists—her fists were snarled in his shirt—and broke the kiss with a sigh. “Later.”

“Where are you going?”

He unhooked her fist from his shirt and kissed her knuckles with a wicked smile. “To run you a bath. You’re still injured, and while I would love to start convincing you to keep me around right now, it can wait until you’re clean and warm.”

“A bath?”

“Yes.” He threw a wink over his shoulder as he headed for the bathing chambers. “And if you’re a good girl, I might spend the rest of the night eating your sweet, pretty wet pussy. But that decision’s yours, of course.”

“YOU HATE THE MATING BOND, don’t you?” Marduk mused as Solveig floated in the bath. “You once said there was nothing so despicable as being forced to surrender to a male, but you know that’s not true. If it’s surrender, then it goes both ways.”

She snorted. “Of course it does.”

He flicked a splash of water at her. “Strangely, I seem to be the one doing most of the surrendering here. I’m fairly certain I just bared my soul to you. The least you can do is return the favor.”

Solveig rolled her eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Who?” he asked simply.

“Who what?”

“Who did you know that was trapped in such a bond?”

She fanned her arms through the water and looked away. Image resurrected itself in her head. Her mother’s desperate face. Siv screaming. And Fornax’s hot blood splashing over her knuckles as Solveig drove her knife through his chest.

Goddess forgive me, I had no choice.

“The gift of kataru libbu is not always a blessing,” she whispered.

“You’ve spent days watching my sister and her husband moon over each other. It makes me nauseous to watch at times, but even I have to admit there’s something special about the glow in Árdís’s eyes when she sees Haakon. It can be a blessing.” He shrugged. “Cynic that I am.”

She forced herself to meet his gaze. “It can also be a curse. What happens when you’re already mated, with three daughters, when the other half of your soul stalks into your court? What happens then, Marduk?”

“Your… mother.” His lips pressed together. “You don’t speak of her very often, though I heard tell of her tragic death and how it shattered the king.”

“My father loved her,” she whispered. “And she loved him.”

And I killed her.

Suddenly, it was difficult to breathe.

A hand caught her fingers. “Don’t. Don’t shut yourself off. Talk to me.”

Lips brushed against her shoulder. Not so much a seduction, but… intimate in a way. Solveig looked at him helplessly. Sex was easy to negotiate. They kissed. They fucked. They did it all over again. But she had no defense against this.

“You’re affectionate,” she accused.

“You like it. You’re the one who keeps sneaking onto my side of the bed and snuggling in my arms.”

Every time she expected him to deny something or push her away, he surprised her yet again. Solveig leaned her head back against his shoulder. “A… little.”

“It’s confusing for me too,” he whispered, and she stilled. “I’ve never been the one to chase, but with you, I have to be the one to submit first.” He kissed the back of her shoulder, a wet caress filled with teeth, as if to hint that he struggled at the concept of submitting. “Do you know the surprising thing? I like it. I used to think surrender was a weakness, but now I think… it’s strangely freeing. Tell me about your mother,” he whispered. “Please.”

Solveig closed her eyes. “My mother was an amazing warrior. She was dangerous and powerful, and she trained me to be a queen. There were whispers at court that she’d failed my father in presenting him with three daughters and no sons, and it infuriated her. ‘Fuck the court,’ she would tell me as she taught me to defend myself. ‘If these bastards want to bend knee before a prince, then I will teach them to prostrate themselves before a queen.’”

“You.” A smoky laugh echoed through him. “I think I’m starting to see where you get it from.”

“Yes, me.” Solveig blinked her eyes open, finding the shock of the roof above her, instead of her mother’s face. “It wasn’t in her nature to yield, but my father… my father was a wise man. He won her through patience and steadiness. Even as a little girl, I would see the love in the smiles they shared and… I wanted that for myself. It seemed a dream to love someone as much as they loved each other.”

She fell silent.

“And then…?”

“He arrived.” She could see it all over again. The throne room doors slamming open, a towering dreki warrior appearing between them, clad in the black of the Zilittu court. “The Zilittu sent an ambassador. A third son of the royal family by the name of Fornax. And the second he laid eyes on my mother the bond between them ignited on his end. They were two souls promised to each other by the goddess. I watched as the world around them faded. Fornax’s eyes filled only with my mother, but it was her expression that will stay chiseled in my heart. She was horrified. She could sense it too, but she had already pledged to my father. And she raged against the push of fate, determined to make her own choice in the matter.

“The entire ordeal was a catastrophe. My father tried to be diplomatic. It was a great disaster, but he and my mother were happily mated. Fornax, however, wouldn’t have it. He challenged Father to a duel, and my mother threatened to gut him.” Solveig bit her lip. “My father is not a typical dreki king. He rules through cleverness, not strength. I’d never even heard of him fighting a duel, but that day… he grimly pushed to his feet and accepted Fornax’s challenge.

“My mother was terrified. I think I knew then that she was scared for him. Fornax was half a head taller. A warrior from the deadly Zilittu. He trained for battle daily, and it showed. He was laughing at my mother as my father slowly stripped his cloak off.” Solveig smiled. “But I knew my father would win. There was a look in his eyes. He wasn’t merely fighting for the right to keep his wife. He was fighting for love. For his daughters. And his clan. He was fighting to protect everyone that he loved.

“And he beat him. Fornax was furious when he realized my father would not yield. You could see the shock on his face when my father met every blow he rained down upon him. ‘I expected a challenge,’ my father sneered. Fornax screamed in rage and ran at him, and my father skewered him.

“They cast him from the court, and my mother ran into my father’s arms.” Her voice softened. “We thought that was to be the end of it. But Fornax would not take no for an answer.” Solveig pushed upright, water sloshing over her. “My mother was his promise from the goddess, and Fornax didn’t care whether taking her would set off a war between clans. He didn’t care if she had three young daughters who loved her or a husband who adored her. He didn’t even care for my mother’s intentions.

“The Zilittu were not entirely comfortable with the situation either. The previous king did not wish for war, even as his son clamored for them to steal my mother.”

“No dreki male has the right to take a female,” Marduk said. “It is always her choice to accept the bond. I can understand why the Zilittu king was uncomfortable. Such a demand goes against all our traditions.”

Solveig swallowed. It was easy to speak of the story to this point.

“Fornax couldn’t get to my mother. My father had her locked away so tightly that barely anyone could enter the court.” Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes. “But it had been months since the duel. Months of being locked away. And Father hadn’t counted on anyone else leaving the court. Two stupid, foolish girls who were weary of being confined. Siv wanted to see the polar bears on the ice for her birthday, and so I promised I would take her.”

The room fell into silence.

Marduk kissed her shoulder. “He took you.”

“Fornax shot Siv out of the sky,” she admitted. “She was twelve, and he used a ballista to shred her wings.”

“And you?” Anger roughened Marduk’s voice. “How old were you?”

Solveig glanced over her shoulder at him. “Old enough to know better.”

“How old?”

“Fourteen.”

He didn’t tell her she was wrong—that fourteen was a child’s age. She’d heard it all before. Thought flickered through those amber eyes, as if he wanted to. But he nodded. “What happened?”

“I had to save my sister. And I was my mother’s protégé. I thought I could kill him. I was such a fool. I landed and shifted into mortal form and drew my knife.” She shuddered. “By then, our parents had discovered that we’d slipped away. The entire warband was in the sky, but it was too late. And Mother…. Mother didn’t bother searching for sign of us. She used the connection between them to find him. She knew. She knew he would have lain in wait. She knew he would try to hurt her daughters. And I gave him the opportunity to get to her.”

“You couldn’t have known, Solveig.” Marduk rested his chin on her shoulder, his arms around her. “A male like that…. It’s incomprehensible. To hurt a kit goes against everything we believe in. Kits are so rare that every single one of them is a gift.”

“He didn’t care. She was his, and it didn’t matter who stood in the way.”

“What happened?”

Solveig closed her eyes, seeing her mother scrambling over the rocks toward her as she lay gutted and broken on the ground. “He’d cut me open. Badly. And then kicked me off a cliff. I landed on a ledge ten feet below him as my mother landed.”

Her mother’s eyes had dropped to the knife in Solveig’s hand. Knowing she’d never reach it in time. “Please,” she had said, meeting Solveig’s eyes. “Throw me the knife.”

“It hurts,” she’d whimpered.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” And then her mother’s eyes had hardened. “Throw. Me. The. Knife. You are a queen, Solveig. You can do this.”

And somehow, she’d managed to push herself to her knees and thrown the knife toward her mother.

It hadn’t been enough.

Her sister was up there.

Her mother.

And her mother was right. She was a queen. Broken, and bleeding, and terrified, she’d managed to haul herself up that cliff just in time for Fornax to drag Siv to her knees, where he put his own blade against her throat.

“My mother had cut him to shreds,” she whispered. “She would have killed him and he knew it, so he used my sister’s broken body as a bargaining point. He had a knife at her throat, and he told my mother he would kill her daughter if she didn’t put her own blade down and surrender.” A half-sob caught in her throat. “She looked at me then, as I managed to haul myself over the edge of the cliff. And she told me that she loved me, and I knew…. I knew he was going to take her away from me.

“Because my mother would not surrender. Queens do not surrender,” she said, repeating the words that had been drilled into them. “They fight until their last breath. They fight when every last dreki in their warband has been cut down. And when they are losing, they fight to make their death count.

“But he didn’t know that. She looked him in the eye and she agreed. If he let Siv go, then she would accept the mating bond.” The delight on his face…. Even now, it made her skin crawl. “And so she accepted the bond.”

Marduk’s fingers stroked her arms, though he didn’t dare speak.

“It was everything he’d wanted, except there were three things holding him back. ‘You will never truly belong to me while your heart is with them,’ he said, and then he lifted the knife and drove it down, intending to kill my sister.”

Tears streamed down her face, and she turned in the bath, seeking comfort in Marduk’s arms. “I was closer to him. I lunged forward and somehow threw him off-balance enough for his knife to miss Siv’s heart. My mother was screaming, but he had a fist tangled in my hair and… I saw the look she gave me and Siv. She couldn’t get to us in time. She couldn’t stop him. And there was just this… expression that flashed over her face as if she knew he would not stop until he’d killed the three of us and claimed her for his own. ‘Be brave, Solveig,’ she said, and then she lifted the knife and looked at him. ‘A bond that can only be broken by death,’ she told him as she set my knife to her chest and drove it through her heart.”

“No!” Fornax had bellowed, seeing his treasure slip through his fingers. But the death of one’s true mate was a massive blow. He’d reeled, falling to his knees.

“No!” Solveig had screamed, finding the strength to crawl toward her mother. “No!”

Her mother had been gasping on the ground, staring up at the sky. “Do it…,” she’d whispered. “Twist… the… knife. End this.”

She’d barely been able to see for her tears. “No, no. Please, no.”

“I’m… dying….” Her mother’s fingers caught her own. “Do this. Kill… him. Kill him for me….”

And she—who had spent so many years obeying that voice—twisted the knife.

“Be brave, Solveig,” she whispered now to Marduk. “I knew what those words meant. I pushed myself to my feet and dragged myself toward where he lay screaming. The loss of a true mate is a crippling blow, but death is slow and languishing. Sometimes, it can take many years. And I didn’t want it to take many years. I wanted it to hurt.”

And so she had made it hurt.

The memories of Fornax’s screams were the only things that stayed the nightmares.

And then she’d crawled to her sister and wrapped both arms around her, hauling the sobbing Siv against her chest. “Don’t look.” Somehow the words escaped her raw throat. “Don’t look. He’s gone. He’s gone. We’re safe.”

“Sweet goddess,” Marduk whispered, stroking the air off her forehead. “Solveig, I’m so sorry.”

Solveig blinked back into the present, stiffening at the sensation of a warm hand splayed across the small of her back. She released a shuddering breath. She could never forget it. And maybe that was for the best, for there was a lesson there. One that remained vital.

Turning, she locked eyes with Marduk, trying to make him understand. “I will never be owned by anyone. Not like that.” Shaking off his hand, she pushed herself to her feet in the bath, water sluicing down her body. “Maybe there is some small part of me that yearns to be whole. But even if I were to find such a bond, I could never accept it. I swore on her body that I would never let a male own me like that.”

Marduk offered her a towel, his eyes filled with sympathy. Wrapping the soft fabric around her, he gently lifted her out of the bath. “What he did was a corruption of the mating bond—”

“I don’t care.”

And Marduk said nothing, though she saw the rebellion in his eyes.

25

“You seem… content,” Árdís murmured as she fluffed Solveig’s pillows.

Solveig shot her a look. “Content?”

A little smile danced over the princess’s lips. “You and my brother are no longer fighting.”

“Oh, believe me, we’re still fighting.”

Though she wasn’t certain if “fighting” was the right word.

Marduk hadn’t said a damned thing in response to her insistence that she’d never accept a mating bond.

He’d been avoiding her this morning too, she suspected.

The whole thing made her skin itch on the inside. She should have been pleased he’d accepted her choice.

But a part of her wanted the fight. She wanted him to return volley.

She wanted him to… what? Demand that she accept him? Force the issue? Insist?

It made no sense, and she’d spent all night tossing and turning, listening to him breathe quietly and knowing he wasn’t getting any sleep either.

“True.” There was a devilish look in the other princess’s eyes. “But I think the difference lies in the way you reconcile, does it not?”

“It’s a temporary alliance. Nothing more. You don’t have to do this.”

Árdís laughed under her breath as she helped Solveig to sit up. “Yes, I do. I’m the only one allowed in here. Marduk won’t let anyone else broach these chambers. It’s almost… territorial.”

Solveig glared at the wall.

The problem was that he wasn’t acting territorial at all.

And maybe that was the problem? She wanted him to fight for her. Even as she didn’t want to surrender. It was so damned confusing.

“And I think you’re lying to yourself,” Árdís continued.

“How so?”

“If it was a temporary alliance,” Árdís replied, “then you wouldn’t be struggling so much with the concept of it.”

The princess had her brother’s gift for seeing straight to the heart of a problem.

Solveig pushed her way out of bed. There was a bone-deep weariness in her body, but she was sick and tired of being confined here. Events transpired without her, and she needed to be in the heart of matters.

Not weakened and relying upon others.

“Careful now,” Árdís warned, slipping an arm under her shoulder.

“I’m fine.”

The princess laughed under her breath. “I’m not Marduk. I actually know what those two words mean from a female perspective.”

Solveig’s shoulders slumped. “He’s confusing. I hate him. I don’t hate him.” She breathed out a sigh as truth compelled her to admit, “I don’t hate him at all.”

And it was that one little fact that bothered her the most.

“You don’t hate him at all,” Árdís repeated, as if she’d known the truth all along. “Here. Let me brush your hair.”

Solveig allowed the princess to bring her a robe and seat her in a chair near the hearth. The first few strokes of the brush through her tangle of wild hair soothed her in a way she’d not expected.

“I always missed my brothers,” Árdís admitted, as she brushed. “But I worried about them more. Especially Marduk. He just… vanished. And when he came back, it was like nothing had ever happened at all. He still laughs. He still smiles. But his eyes always return to the horizon, and until I met you, I worried he would disappear again. The Zini court is not his home. Not the way it is for me.”

“Until you met me?”

“He’s not looking for the horizon,” Árdís admitted. “He looks at you as if you are the whole of his world. And when he carried you back here in his arms, he looked like you’d torn his heart out of his chest just by fainting. He worries about you. He cares for you.”

Solveig slowly closed her eyes.

“And you care for him,” the princess insisted.

“While I may admit to certain… feelings, it will never work between us.”

“Won’t it?”

She curled her fingers into a fist. “I am a queen. I was not made to surrender to—"

“Sometimes surrender is the greatest power we have,” Árdís said.

Solveig’s heart hardened. “Surrender means that one wins. And one loses.”

“I’m not talking about surrendering to him.” Árdís reached out and pressed two fingers to Solveig’s heart. “I speak of surrendering to yourself. I’ve felt it, you know. I tried not to love my husband. I tried so hard it felt like I was cutting my own heart out of my chest. To love him meant to face my mother’s wrath, and I didn’t want to risk his life. Until he was dying, right in front of me, and the only way to save Haakon’s life was to accept what I felt for him and bond with him. The truth is I was hiding from myself. I wasn’t truly whole until I accepted that what I felt was worth fighting for. Worth risking everything for. And so I surrendered.”

What a breathless concept.

To be at one with herself, to give into the desires of her heart meant submitting to a piece of herself she’d spent her entire life fighting.

She had been born into a male world, and she’d spent the first cycle of her life fighting to find her place in it. Every inch of the way she’d had her father’s throne in her sights—not as conqueror, but as successor—and the beat of the words I will be worthy echoed in time with her heartbeat.

Losing her mother had forged that dream into an unbreakable vow. It was her mother’s dream, and she would honor it. She would be a queen that the world would bow before. She would take her throne, and she would hold it.

But it was only now she realized what that dream could cost her.

Because, in her mind’s eye, she had always sat alone on that throne.

And… would the loneliness be worth it?

“I don’t know if I can take your advice,” she whispered. “The very thought of submitting to such a thing makes my dreki rage.”

“I understand.” Árdís gave her a rueful smile. “They’ll never know what we fight for. They’ll never understand the lives we’ve led.”

“He… hurt me.” It was the first time she’d said those words out loud. “And I’ve been carrying that hurt for so long that it feels like this bonfire in my chest.” Solveig raked her hair out of her face. “I’m so tired of fighting myself. Every time I look at him, my dreki goes wild. He is both threat and… something else. I don’t know what to do.”

There was a certain glint in Árdís’s eyes, and Solveig couldn’t read it.

“What?” Solveig demanded, still seething with the mess Marduk had made of her. Her heart was going to rupture her ribs, she swore it.

Árdís looked back toward her brother’s shirt. “Nothing. I just….”

“What?”

“They say males always know first,” Árdís said slowly, “though that was not the case for me and Haakon. He was human, you see, so he couldn’t feel it. And I feared I never would.”

The world grew very still.

Solveig stopped breathing.

The mating bond.

The princess was talking about finding one’s true flame. It was myth. It was legend. It was what every dreki secretly yearned for in the depths of their heart—the other piece of their soul.

Her jaw dropped open.

“We are not….” She couldn’t even speak the word.

“I don’t know what my brother is feeling. But I do know that before I discovered I was mating with my husband, I was wildly irrational and territorial, and angry over the smallest things.... I couldn’t understand what was wrong with me until Rurik pointed out I was acting like a mating dreki.”

Solveig’s heart kicked hard. “You think I am… mating with him?”

Again that pause. “I don’t think I’m the one who has to answer that question.”

Solveig pushed forward in the chair, suddenly desperate to move. Her thoughts spiraled like a whirlwind.

Oh, goddess, no.

Marduk couldn’t be the other half of her heart. He couldn’t be.

But the pieces began rearranging themselves together in a way that fit only too well.

Her dreki had tried to tear itself free the second she saw him. It had been frightening. Overwhelming. A caged feeling that left her trapped and breathless and desperate to escape the only way she knew how—by lashing out.

She’d thought she’d hated him, but what if it was the feeling she hated?

She hadn’t understood the primal forces trying to tear her apart, and so she’d tried to reject them.

To reject him.

“Perhaps it is possible female dreki do acknowledge some aspect of the driving urge to mate, but because it is such an overwhelming instinct, males usually sense it first?” Árdís pointed out. “You’re naturally a very dominant, aggressive female. Perhaps you’re more aware of it than most.”

It made sense.

It made far too much sense.

Marduk had been a roguish young dreki male newly arrived at her court, but there’d been dozens like him in the past, and her senses had never been set off like that with them. No, the moment she saw him, it had sent a shiver down her spine, like claws scratching over slate.

A feeling that something was wrong—something profoundly upsetting for her equilibrium that she’d never been able to slake. She’d wanted him out of her territory. Out of her life. And yet, the second he’d done so, some part of her had been screaming on the inside.

And that feeling hadn’t let up until several months ago, when rumors surfaced of a golden dreki prince skirting the edges of her territory.

Despite every single logical thought telling her to let the past go, she hadn’t been able to curb the instinct to set Bryn Brightfeather hunting him. She’d needed to get her hands on him again.

Somehow.

And in her head, she’d called it revenge.

But what if it wasn’t?

Oh, gods. Solveig buried her face in her hands. This was the worst thing that could ever happen to her. “No, it’s not possible. I’d know. And I don’t—I don’t wish for a true flame. Ever. No.”

“Solveig?” Árdís asked. “Are you all right?”

“Don’t tell him.” The words burst from her lips. “Please don’t tell him.”

“I won’t tell him. I promise. If he hasn’t figured it out yet, then he’s an idiot and he only has himself to blame. But….” Ardís sat on the edge of the chair, rubbing her back. “It’s not as bad as you might think. Actually, it’s quite delightful.”

“No.”

It was such an emphatic denial that the other woman reared back a little before sighing.

Solveig slowly toppled back onto the chair, running her hands through her hair.

Are you there? she whispered to her dreki. Is that what you’ve been trying to tell me?

There was no answer, but she could sense the unease within her.

Because there was one little problem with that scenario.

Perhaps it was true. Perhaps her dreki was recognizing its mate.

But if so, then it was very clear that Marduk did not feel the same.

THE REST of the group was plotting war in the throne room.

And so Ardís helped Solveig down the stairs before pausing in front of the doors to brush her skirts down. It wasn’t her preferred style, but she couldn’t wear her armored corset yet, and so they’d reached a compromise with the green gown.

“Perfect,” Ardís said. “You look like a queen.”

“I feel like I’m going to fall flat on my face.” This weakness was infuriating. She needed a minute to catch her breath after taking the damned stairs.

“Then take my arm,” Ardís replied. “We’ll enter together. If your knees start to shake, I’ll pretend to swoon.”

It felt strange to have a fellow conspirator. It was almost like having another sister.

And as Ardís strode forward and shoved the throne room doors open, Solveig realized that if anyone tried to harm her sister-in-law during the coming fight, then they were going to have to go through her.

If she could bloody well fight herself.

Draco and Andromeda sat at the head of the table, the Zilittu king clad in harsh black leather, while his queen wore a white silk gown that Solveig approved of. His brother, Rune, and sister, Viveka, sat to either side of them, and their warlord, Talon, loomed behind them, one hand resting on his sword hilt as he leaned against the wall.

Across from Draco sat Rurik and his wife. Rurik watched Draco like one would watch a poisonous snake.

Ardís took a seat between Haakon and Ishtar, and the Blackfrost leaned back in his chair, his boot kicked up on the table as he smiled at Talon. Malin kept shooting him small looks as if she wanted to kick his foot under the table and tell him to stop provoking the other warlord, but Sirius looked like he was having too much fun doing so.

There was an ancient dreki saying about something like this; one dreki king in a room is a bracing wind that sweeps away all in his path; two is a clash of storms; and three is a hurricane that devastates everything in the vicinity.

Her arrival seemed to break some kind of tension.

“Your Highness,” Draco greeted, tilting his head to her.

“Solveig,” Rurik said, his eyes flat and neutral, even as his tone and choice of greeting indicated an intimacy between courts that Draco didn’t own.

So it was going to be like this.

“Your Highnesses,” she replied, stalking toward the only remaining chair left in the room—the one right next to Marduk.

The last time they’d met, Rurik had promised Solveig the dissolution of her mating alliance, so when Marduk’s head whipped toward her, she saw Rurik’s attention lock upon them. It stalled her a little, for she couldn’t fight the feeling that every move she made would be analyzed.

“What are you doing down here?” Marduk whispered furiously, shooting Ardís a scathing look.

“Plotting war,” she replied.

The flash of his amber eyes told her this discussion wasn’t over, even as he held her chair out for her.

Solveig sank into it gratefully, even as his mind brushed against hers.

“You should be in bed. I bloody knew I shouldn’t have left Ardís in charge—”

“War waits for no king. Or queen. And how did you think she was going to stop me?”

Marduk growled under his breath and cut the connection between them.

She was far too aware of the hard body at her side, his thigh pressed to hers. Even as Marduk’s attention locked on Draco, she couldn’t resist examining his profile.

Her true flame? Her heart skipped a beat.

Goddess, what was she going to do?

She couldn’t have him and her throne.

To choose him meant giving up everything.

You can never go back there. Not without killing him.

You can never return home.

How can you be your father’s successor if you can’t even walk the halls of your court?

Why is he not fighting for me?

Marduk gave her a strange look, as if he was curious as to why she was staring at him. “What’s wrong?” he whispered, sliding his fingers through hers.

“Nothing.” She jerked her attention back to Draco, who appeared to be speaking.

“Liar.” Marduk sent the thought to her. “You haven’t heard a word Draco’s been saying, and since he’s talking about objects with world-shattering consequences, I know you’re distracted.”

“I’m tired,” she replied curtly, before unlacing both her thoughts and her fingers from his.

This time it was Marduk’s turn to watch her.

She could almost feel his gaze as a caress on her skin.

“I don’t see what the problem is,” Draco snapped. “We capture this Elin. We take the key off her. We destroy it—”

“Easier said than done,” Andromeda cut in angrily. “You speak of what you know nothing of. The Key of Chaos was never meant to be used, except for an absolute emergency. With it, Elin is almost… impossible to confront. With it, a Chaos-wielder of average abilities could tear apart a portal between the stars, but to do so requires enormous amounts of Chaos. And once activated, it will suck the magic out of anything that has even a hint of Chaos magic within its diameter in order to fuel itself. There’s a reason my people have never wielded it. If we confront her and she activates it, then she will simply suck the magic out of us. If your father had just left it in my country, in the safety of my people’s hands, then we would not be dealing with this situation right now.”

Draco’s eyelids lowered sleepily, a sure sign that he was thinking. “How wide is the circumference of its reach?”

Andromeda pushed to her feet to pace. “We don’t know. We only have hypotheses, and data from the original prototype—and it was barely a quarter as powerful. The circle around it will grow with every ounce of magic it absorbs. It’s like… a voracious maelstrom that will slowly pull entire countries into its orbit and bleed them dry of Chaos magic. Grass will wither, trees will die, and humans will stop and clutch at their chests as if they experience a sharp pain there. But it shall be the dreki who suffer the most. It will kill entire courts. Stop them dead in their tracks. Every dreki needs a spark of Chaos to survive, and the key will bleed them dry. Once activated, it’s almost impossible to stop. I would estimate that the entirety of Europe will be affected.”

Every set of lungs in the room arrested.

Rurik broke the terse silence. “We need to find my mother before she activates it.”

“And kill her,” Draco agreed. “Once and for all.”

Malin sucked in a sharp gasp. “Elin’s still in there.”

Sirius clasped her hand, shooting the two kings a hard look.

Rurik shot Malin an anguished look. “We know.” His voice broke. “We know. And if there was anything we could do to save her…. But we’re speaking about thousands of dreki being robbed of their lives. I cannot justify that.”

“Almost impossible to stop,” Andromeda said quietly. “There is something we can try.”

“Anything,” Sirius demanded. “What do we do?”

“To deactivate the key, we need a soul to sacrifice,” she said, meeting Malin’s eyes. “One aligned with Chaos. It was built into the spell work as a failsafe.”

Silence filled the room.

To sacrifice one’s life in battle was a gift; one’s spirit was almost certainly bound to ride the horizon forever with the ancestors, in those flickering, beautiful displays of light that lit the northern skies on certain nights.

But to sacrifice one’s soul….

There would be no forever. There would be no eternal flight.

Nothing but… being trapped forever inside the key.

Marduk slowly pushed to his feet.

“Don’t you even dare offer,” Solveig snarled, slamming upright.

“I’m touched, my love, but truly… do I seem like the self-sacrificial type?”

The entire room was looking at her. She ignored them. “Then who?”

“Not who….” He quirked a brow and turned to Andromeda. “You said ‘a soul.’ Any soul?”

“One tied to Chaos,” Andromeda reminded him.

It hit her as suddenly as Marduk’s smile.

“It’s brilliant,” Solveig whispered.

Marduk gave her a courtly bow. “I do try.”

“Would someone like to enlighten the rest of us?” Draco demanded.

Marduk turned toward the king. “We want Elin back. And we want my mother gone. Who better to sacrifice to the key than the bitch who’s caused all our woes?”

“Would it work?” Draco cast Andromeda a cool look.

Andromeda’s shoulders straightened. “Using the queen as sacrifice might work. The problem is whether we can separate Elin’s soul from hers.”

Marduk shot them all a dangerous smile. “The first I can manage. The second…?” He tilted his head toward Draco. “That’s on you. After all, you’re the one with a blade that can separate a soul from a mortal body, are you not?”

Rurik’s attention locked upon the Zilittu king. “A blade that can separate a soul from a body?”

Andromeda silently immolated Draco with her eyes. Clearly matters between them had not been resolved.

“Yes,” Draco snapped, pushing his chair back with a snarl. “I have such a blade. But it is currently in use, so the answer is no. No, I will not give you the blade. No, you cannot use it to draw your mother’s soul from the girl’s body. No. No. No.”

And then he stalked from the hall, even as Andromeda cut his retreating figure a sharp look.

26

Draco’s “no” still echoed through the keep.

Both courts had disbanded, each to their own chambers—no doubt to plot a way to convince the other to accept their terms—and Marduk had seen Solveig back to their rooms.

And then he went in search of wine.

The great hall seemed a promising start. He was halfway across it when he saw a shadow seated near the head of the banquet table. A single solitary male, resting his forehead in one hand as the fingers of his other hand toyed with an ornate goblet.

The last dreki he wanted to see right now. Damn it.

Too late.

The king’s head lifted, and there was no reasonable way to extricate himself from this situation without being obvious about it.

Draco gave him a nasty little smile. “Come to convince me to hand over my knife so you can rescue the girl?”

“No.” He started walking again, this time toward the table. “I was hoping there’d be wine down here. The flagon in our rooms tastes like piss, and Solveig’s sleeping. I was going to tuck myself up in a corner of our room and drink your best wine.”

The king merely watched him as he took another goblet from the set and filled it.

“What do you want?” Draco growled.

“An apology to start with,” he said, sinking into the chair beside the king. “You accused my sister of murdering your Chaos-wielders.”

“I thought you were returning to your room?”

“You look like the most miserable prick I’ve ever met,” Marduk said with a shrug. “I thought I’d stay here and gloat a little.”

And then he gave Draco a winning smile.

The king bared his teeth. “I’m not apologizing. I accused one of the Zini of being the perpetrator, and it seems I was right.”

Marduk sipped the wine. Not bad. Flemish by the taste of it. Draco certainly had fine tastes. “Technically, it’s Elin’s body, but the soul with the reins in hand seems to be my mother, and she’s Zilittu to the bone. Or soul. Or whatever it is now.”

“You really wish to quibble about it?”

“I was just thrown into an abyss where I had to crawl over the bones of your former enemies before setting my mind alight in order to rescue my mate. Yes, I think I am going to quibble about it.”

“I’ll grant you this—no one’s ever escaped the Abyss before.” Draco’s gray eyes turned curious. “What was it like?”

“Wielding my sister’s magic?” He shuddered. “It was like peeling my own skin off from the inside. I don’t recommend it.”

“Mmm. They say the Goddess’s gift can only be wielded by women because she thought male dreki would use it to overrun the world.”

“While that’s a plausible theory, I have met my mother. If she could have walked over a field paved with dreki skulls to put herself on a throne of the world, she would have done so.” Marduk thought about it. “She probably still intends to do so.”

“And my suggestion stands. If we kill her before she can activate the key, then this war will be over before it begins.”

“If you’re so sure this is the answer, then why are you down here drinking by yourself? Where are all your friends? Your allies? Your brother and sister?” Marduk paused, sharpening the edge of his words. “Your mate?”

Draco scowled.

“Let me guess….” Marduk leaned back in his chair. “Your queen is not receptive to your plans of killing the girl and saving the world. She wants to remove the dagger from your brother’s chest and use it to save Elin instead.”

Oh, that scored a mark.

“You shouldn’t have pursued Solveig,” he mused. “I don’t think your ploy to make Andromeda jealous worked. I think you just pissed her off.”

“And you shouldn’t speak of something you know nothing about.”

“I think I’m starting to understand. I’ve been talking to some of your guards, some of the maids—” He caught a glimpse of Draco’s startled expression. “Oh, relax. Not a single one of them has betrayed your confidences. But they don’t have to. I’ve learned a little bit here and there. One can put the pieces together.”

Marduk leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Two years ago, your father poisoned prominent members of Andromeda’s clan. And then he offered them the cure in exchange for her hand—and the key as dowry. But he offered her to his heir, didn’t he? And you were not the heir.”

Draco’s eyelids hooded dangerously.

“You took one look at her and wanted her. It’s always been that way, hasn’t it? You and Scorpius, jostling for position all these years. Desperate to outscore each other. Determined to win at any cost.” Marduk sipped his wine. “And you won. You killed your father. You put a spell-forged knife through your brother’s heart and trapped his soul in the jewel within the hilt. And you claimed your queen.

“But your queen had other ideas.” He shrugged. “I don’t know whether she had a preference for your brother or whether she was infuriated by your tactics, but for whatever reason, she slammed the bedroom door in your face and won’t let you through it. Andromeda strikes me as someone who likes to play by the rules. She is proud, and loyal and honest. And you just proved that you’re not.

“Your queen wants to return home. But you don’t want to let her go. And then Solveig comes along, and she’s strong and powerful—a threat to any woman. So you make her an offer you know she won’t accept, because you’re trying to push your queen back into your arms. Would I have the right of it?”

There was a long tense silence as the king decided which route to take.

“Ours is a political match,” Draco finally said.

“Bullshit.” He laughed as he drank his wine. “It may have started that way, but you want her.”

Murder flashed in the king’s eyes. “I’m not going to listen to this.” He pushed his chair back. “Out of respect for your brother, I won’t bother to paint your teeth over the floor.”

Marduk cradled his goblet in both hands, thoroughly enjoying the moment. This was where he baited his hook. “I can tell you how to win her back.”

Draco took two steps.

And then he froze.

But his head was half-turned, his fingers twitching.

Caught on the end of the hook, and aware of it.

“Why would I listen to you?” The king turned, all fury and menace. “You can barely keep your own mate satisfied.”

“You’ve tried everything else. Why not try this one last thing?”

Draco sank back into his chair. His merciless eyes glittered. “Go ahead then. Amuse me. It’s not as though I have a war to plan.”

“You have to wait until your scouts return anyway. And my suggestion is simple,” he replied, refilling the king’s cup. “It also solves our little Elin problem….”

“Ah.” Draco gave a bitter laugh. “Let me guess? I remove the blade from Scorpius’s chest. I give you the dagger in order to rescue your beloved drekling handmaid. Andromeda falls to her knees in gratitude at my mercy.” He rolled his eyes. “And then I have to fucking deal with my twin again. If you think I’m going to be so foolish as to fall for this, then you don’t know me very well. I have everything I want. I don’t need her heart.”

“But you still want it.” Marduk clinked goblets of wine with him. “And I know how you feel. Because I see the same look in your eyes that I see in the mirror. We can’t help but want what we can’t have. A woman’s heart, given freely and without restraint. But only one of us has managed to overcome the hatred that comes with that woman. To take and to hold. It’s the Zilittu way. But if you continue to take your current path then you will lose Andromeda. For good.”

“She’s already lost to me.”

It was the first hint of a concession Draco had made.

And he could see how much it cost the other male to even speak of it.

Marduk sighed. “No, she’s not. If she was already lost to you, then she wouldn’t watch you the way she does. She wouldn’t keep giving you chances to prove yourself. And she has, Draco. She offered you a choice two hours ago. Remove the knife. Save the girl. Prove you can be the better dreki.”

A harsh breath escaped Draco. “You do realize if I remove the knife, then my brother will seek to take her from me again. The next time we fight, he won’t hesitate. One of us will be forced to kill the other. And… I don’t know if she’ll be too disappointed if I’m the one who dies.”

Marduk paused.

“As you said, two brothers fought over the same woman.” Draco’s voice roughened. “Maybe the wrong brother won in her eyes.”

“So the pair of you fought over her, and if you pull the knife out, you’ll fight again?”

Draco cut him a hard look that said “yes.”

Marduk shook his head. “You’re right. You’re not going to win her—”

Heat blazed to life in Draco’s eyes.

He held his hand up. “But neither is Scorpius. Because you’re both making the same mistake. Andromeda isn’t a crown. She has her own thoughts, her own ideas… and both of you took her choice away from her. Did anyone even ask if she had a preference?”

A seething kind of silence settled over the pair of them.

“I would normally kill a male who spoke to me like that,” Draco finally said.

“Drink up. I’m probably the only sorry son-of-a-bitch who actually understands what you’re going through right now.”

That earned a thoughtful look.

“You have to give her a choice. You have to let her go in order to see if there’s any possibility she can forgive you. You have to allow Scorpius to rise, or she will never let you get close to her.”

“Spoken like someone who’s never had to face such a choice.”

“Spoken by someone who did face that choice. Do you know why Solveig gave me a chance? Because I offered to stand aside.”

“When?”

“If Solveig wished to take you up on your offer.” Even now, the thought made him want to hit someone. “If she wanted to pursue your offer, then I would have stepped aside. Even if it cost me my pride. Even if it cost me a single chance to earn her heart.” He blew out a breath. “When her father pushed us together, I was offered the choice of three daughters. I chose her, but she never had the chance to choose me. And if there was ever going to be any hope for us, then… I had to give her that choice.”

The king’s eyelashes lowered to half-mast.

“You may not be as much of an idiot as I originally thought,” he finally said.

Marduk’s hopes lifted. “Then you’ll remove the dagger?”

Draco pushed to his feet and drained his goblet. “I’ll think about it.”

“WHERE IS SHE?” Marduk demanded, as he entered Solveig’s room and found only his sister, fluffing the pillows. He’d hoped to slip in here and tempt Solveig into bed. Where she should have been.

Árdís arched a brow. “What business is it of yours?”

“She is my….”

“Your what?” Árdís’s intent gaze sharpened.

Bloody sisters.

Marduk sighed, clasping his hands behind his head. He wasn’t going to get away with this. And maybe it was time to accept the truth. “My ruin,” he admitted in a quiet voice. All he could think about was Solveig’s confession last night. It had been eating at him all day, but he had no one else to speak to of this. “Do you remember when you used to say that one day I would meet a woman I could love, and you hoped she didn’t love me back?”

“You were seducing your way through half of Mother’s ladies-in-waiting,” Árdís pointed out. “I wanted you to know that you were breaking hearts.”

“I was eighteen.”

“And at eighteen, you were an arrogant little shit.”

He sank onto the bed. He’d wear that. Still, it left a bitter feeling in his chest, because now he was on the other end of the hook. “Well, it seems you have your wish.”

“Oh,” Árdís said softly, and there was sadness in her eyes as she clasped the pillow against her midriff. “I never wanted you to suffer, Marduk. I just wanted you to know… that your actions had consequences.”

“I know my actions have consequences.” His voice roughened. “It’s taken me years to get Solveig to the point where she doesn’t flinch when she hears that stupid song I sang that long-ago night.”

Árdís arched a brow. “I am firmly Solveig’s ally on this point. I’ve heard that song.”

“Of course you did,” he said gruffly. “You wouldn’t be my sister if you didn’t go seek it out, just so you could rub my face in it.”

“Your early years weren’t your best years, brother.”

“The original version wasn’t that bad,” he protested. Goddess’s mercy. “I can’t change the past. I can’t go back and shut my stupid, fucking mouth. And I would.” He met her eyes. “If I could change the past, then I would. I would do anything I could to wipe that moment from both our lives, so she never has to hear it again. I never wanted to humiliate her.”

Árdís nibbled on her lip. “You don’t have to change the past, Marduk. You just have to change the song.”

What did that mean?

“Do you love her?”

“I don’t know.” The scene at the cave flashed through his mind. You’re lying to yourself. He steeled his heart. “Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t want to, because I know she’ll never give me her heart in return.”

There was something about Árdís’s expression that made his stomach twist. “Maybe there’s… hope for that.”

“She swore she’d never mate with me in truth.”

“Mmm.” Árdís glanced away, her hands fidgeting with the pillow before she cast it on the bed.

Árdís, who was the worst liar he’d ever met.

Árdís, who couldn’t keep a secret to save herself.

Marduk pushed slowly to his feet. “You know something.”

She took a step back, her eyes darting here and there. “No.”

“You do.” He grabbed her wrist. “What did she say to you?”

“I made her a promise that I would never reveal to you the truth of what she spoke of,” Árdís said, chopping at his wrists. “Let go of me.”

“I’m your brother,” he said incredulously. “You’re going to keep secrets from me?”

“Her secrets? Yes. Perhaps my brother should use his damned head and start thinking,” Árdís retorted, “because I made a promise, and female dreki don’t break promises to other females. Think, you idiot. Why would Solveig suddenly put her armor in place? Why now? The pair of you have been kissing in every corner of the keep!”

“I don’t know. We were finally—”

It hit him like a punch to the throat.

She’d been in his bed before. This had nothing to do with surrender. The last few days had been an emotional whirlwind. And last night had been about more than physical desire. She’d let down her guard.

Solveig didn’t surrender to vulnerability.

She was proud and she was furious, but he’d caught enough glimpses of the real woman inside her to know that she saw weakness as something to be fought. Something to be denied.

I will not let you break me, she’d said once.

But he’d come close, hadn’t he?

He’d seen the way she looked at him when she thought her expression guarded.

Solveig wasn’t denying him because she felt nothing for him. She’d hauled her shields into place because she felt too much.

“Well?” Árdís set her hands on her hips. “Would you care to elaborate? Or continue staring at me blankly?”

She came back into focus, cutting through the image of Solveig that he’d conjured.

“Sometimes,” he told her. “You’re the most frustrating pain in my ass.” When Árdís opened her mouth to argue, he stepped forward and kissed her on the cheek. “And sometimes, you are wise beyond your years. You’re right. I’m an idiot. I’ve been looking at this all wrongly. I keep thinking about what she’s telling me, but I haven’t been thinking about what she’s not telling me.”

Árdís caught his sleeve. “Don’t break her heart, Marduk.”

And he had to ask, though his voice roughened. “Do I have it?”

Árdís pressed her lips thinly together. She would not break Solveig’s confidences and he respected her for that. But it was confirmation enough.

The breath burst from his lungs. Hell.

He was going to kick her ass for not telling him.

“Marduk?” Árdís called as he reached the door.

He shot her a look.

“It’s not the bond she’s truly afraid of,” she told him. “Tell her how you feel.”

TELL HER HOW YOU FEEL.

Marduk ground his teeth together and climbed the stairs to where Solveig was sparring with her own shadow on the top of the tower. The keep was a stirred anthill, and it had taken him two hours to track her down. In the distance, storm clouds rumbled as if they sensed the dreki call to arms.

“What are you doing out of bed?” he demanded, as she drew back into a defensive stance, brushing her sweaty hair from her eyes.

By the look of her, she’d spent every moment of those two hours shadowboxing.

“Do I look like I plan to fight this war flat on my back?” Solveig barely lowered her fists. “I need to know how bad the damage is.”

“And?” There was no point arguing with her. As much as he wanted to wrap her in a safe cocoon right now, doing so would only earn him a rousing fight.

Solveig broke away from him, heading for the small tray one of the servants must have placed on a nearby table. She poured a glass of water and drained it. “I’m fine.”

“Solveig—”

She turned on him. “I am my father’s war marshal, and as soon as Draco’s scouts catch a glimpse of Elin and those alfar, I intend to go hunting.”

“Can you even fly, right now?”

“I guess we’ll find out. Fight me.” She spun, lashing out with a kick, which he caught against his shoulder.

“No,” he said. “Aren’t we done fighting?”

Wind whipped her hair across her face, and she looked at him with her heart in her eyes. “This isn’t easy for me.”

“You think it’s easy for me?” He took pity on her and let her go. “Fine. If you beat me, then I’ll shut my mouth and not fuss over you as you ride for war. But if I win, then you will concede: You will let me go south in your place and bring your father’s warband back north for you. You’ll get another day to heal.”

“Done.”

She drove another boot toward his face, and this time he’d had enough. Capturing her heel, Marduk ducked under her leg, and then hauled her back into his arms. He let himself fall. The second he hit the stone, he rolled, pinning her there.

It was ridiculously easy.

And it shouldn’t have been.

“You couldn’t wrestle a snake, right now,” he snapped, as the breath drove from her lungs. Thunder grumbled in the distance.

Solveig wrapped her legs around his hips, intent upon throwing him, but he wasn’t going anywhere.

And after two days of hovering over her, desperate to protect her, desperate to touch her, this was exactly where he wanted to be.

His cock hardened, and Marduk ground against her. “Looks like I’m going south.”

He knew the second she felt him, for the fury in her eyes turned molten. Her dark irises were black pools that threatened to drown him; and worse, he couldn’t have saved himself if he’d wanted to.

Marduk bit the skin of her shoulder gently. Not enough to mark her, but enough to draw both their minds to the suggestion of it. He wanted to broach the topic of their changed relationship—where were they right now?—but for the first time in his life, he didn’t know how.

This was all he had.

“Don’t you dare,” she breathed.

“No?” He nuzzled into her throat. “You liked it that last time.”

He kissed her. Hard. Fierce. Bruising.

And her tongue danced against his, slick with desire. Solveig grabbed a fistful of his shirt, and suddenly she wasn’t trying to fight him anymore. Instead, her hips undulated against him, until he was the one desperate for breath.

Goddess. Every ounce of frustration and anxiety he’d felt over the past couple of days came to the fore.

It was difficult to be careful with her when she was in this mood. And he needed to be, for he hadn’t missed her wince when she landed on her back.

Solveig tore her mouth from his, and then sharp teeth sank into his earlobe. “I’m not made of spun glass.”

“And yet, you are just as precious in some ways.”

She drew back, until they were nose-to-nose. “What does that mean?”

“Haven’t you realized yet?” His heart gave a nervous twist in his chest. “I’ll tell you. One day. I’ll tell you when you’re ready to believe it.”

Another soulful look.

He kissed her.

“Marduk, stop.” She drew back, gasping. “We’re on the tower.”

Anyone could see them.

“Let them.” He slowed his sensual assault, though he didn’t forsake it. Kissing his way down her throat, he waited for her to deny him again, but it didn’t come.

“Yes?” he whispered. “Or no?”

A shiver ran through her. It was a yes. He knew it was a yes. But it wasn’t until her hand snaked between them, curling around his cock, that he let a sigh escape him.

Tugging her shirt free of its buttons, he found the linen she bound her breasts with. Hauling it down, he captured her tightly furled nipple in his mouth. Solveig arched beneath him as the first raindrop struck his skin.

“Surrender, Solveig. You know you want to.”

“I wish I’d never met you,” she whispered, grabbing a fistful of his hair, but her thighs parted and he was sinking between them, tearing at the buttons of her breeches.

Such tight, bloody breeches. He almost tore them down her legs, tangled in her drawers, and then she was naked beneath him, her sweet, wet quim bare to the sky.

“You’re such a liar.” Kneeling over her, he kissed her, capturing her bottom and forcing her thighs to part around his shoulders.

She tasted of musk and sweat and forbidden delight.

And she was so wet, she was slick beneath his tongue.

“Oh, gods.”

It was music to his ears. And the sensation of her fingers clenching in his hair drove him wild as he tongued her deeply. Solveig writhed. She was so close it was surprising she hadn’t come already. Harder droplets of water struck them. Maybe the sky could feel his longing.

Marduk lifted his head, and kissed her thigh. “If you hadn’t met me, you wouldn’t be here right now.” He lowered his head and traced his tongue over that pulsating bud. “If you hadn’t met me, then you wouldn’t feel like you were about to fly apart.”

Her spine arched. “Just do it.”

“Do what?” he whispered, letting his breath stir the curls of her mons. And then his tongue was flickering over her, like a cat lapping at water.

She came with a ragged cry, her thighs clamping around his head. The heavens opened, and she melted beneath him, slumping bonelessly to the floor as if he’d wrung her dry.

Marduk kissed his way up her body, licking the rain from her skin. He rubbed his cock between her wet folds, feeling her body open around him like some sort of lush flower. “Do you know what I think?”

Her gaze met his, as he rested his elbows on either side of her face.

“I think that you love this.” He drove inside her with one firm stroke. Her body fit him like a glove, but it was the way she arched her head back with a moan that made every inch of him tight with need. She was beneath him. He was inside her. And he never wanted this moment to end.

“If you tell yourself you hate me, does it make it easier to surrender to this?” He thrust again, feeling her clench around him.

Nails dug into his back and she hissed with pleasure.

He couldn’t take his eyes from her face. She was glorious and wild and so beautiful it broke his heart a little. “You hate the way I make you feel, because it leaves you vulnerable.”

An anguished moan tore from her.

“And you hate the way you don’t hate me,” he whispered. “Not even a little bit.”

Their eyes met.

“Tell me a secret,” he whispered, slowly rocking his hips into her.

“I don’t know if I can ever be what you want me to be.” The words blurted from her, as if she couldn’t let herself think about them too long or she’d never say them.

There was a long moment of silence.

And then Marduk brushed a strand of wet hair from her face, where it had stuck to her lips. “You’re already everything I want. You don’t have to change.”

“I’m not talking of changing. Being with you feels like I’m losing some part of myself.” She swallowed. “I swore on my mother’s grave that I would never, ever let some male do to me what he did to her. And I think some part of me meant it. My dreki meant it. She… She doesn’t want to surrender. ” The look she gave him broke his heart. “How long would you wait for me?”

“Forever,” he replied, simply.

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” The yearning in her eyes gave him some hope, and lightning flashed in the distance, highlighting the sharp lines of her face. “There’s something you don’t know about me, my love. If I want something—want it with my entire being—then nothing is going to stop me from having it. I won’t falter, Solveig, just because you’re struggling to give into this feeling between us. I will wait for you. Forever, if need be. Because you are mine.”

“I am not some object that some dreki male thinks he’s going to claim, just because—”

“Mine,” he repeated, grinding against her. “The thing I’ve been yearning for my entire life. My hopes. My dream. My sense of belonging. My home. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. And that’s what that means. Nothing else.

“When I was a little boy I used to test my wings. I would shoot straight into the sky, trying to capture a star. I would fly as high as I could, desperate to reach it, until the air grew too thin and my wings started to fail. You’re my star, Solveig. And maybe I won’t ever have you, but I’ll never stop trying to reach you. Never.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“It is simple. Let me tell you my secret,” he breathed, the hot flush of pleasure sliding down his spine like a woman’s fingertip. He kissed the tip of her nose, trying not to explode. “I’m glad I met you. I’m so fucking glad. Because this is real. And I’m not afraid to surrender to it.” He thrust shallowly, trying to contain himself. “You’re the most perfect thing I’ve ever touched. You’re my star, Solveig, and I finally caught you.”

She kissed him.

And then there was no more chance of restraining himself.

He came with a gasp, thrusting his way into her slowly. He wanted the moment to last forever.

Rain slicked her skin. Both of them panted for breath as he collapsed atop her.

“I’m not scared of you, Solveig,” he whispered. “I’m not going to tuck tail and run, just because you’re frightened of what’s happening between us. I don’t know what this is, but I intend to ride the storm until it either dashes us upon the rocks, or kicks us out into sunny, blue skies. Because you’re the adventure I’ve been looking for all my life. You’re mine, and I’m not letting go.”

“Let me tell you a secret,” she whispered.

His heart skipped a beat, because she was looking at him with her soul stripped bare. “What?”

Teeth sank into her lip. “I don’t want you to let me go,” she blurted. “I don’t ever want you to let me go.”

And the feeling that swept through him was more pleasurable than the greatest orgasm. “Good.” He nuzzled at her lips again, lacing his fingers through hers. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

THE STORM BLEW IN, wild and whipping.

Marduk swept her into his arms and carried her back to their rooms.

The second he’d kicked the door shut, he was on her. Again. He would have to leave in an hour. Maybe two. If this was his last chance to love her, then he was going to slake every ounce of his desire on her willing flesh.

He pushed her back against the wall and kissed her, long and slow and drugging. Stripping her trousers and boots from her, until she wore only her shirt.

“Make it hard,” she whispered, inching those fingernails up his abdomen. “Make it hurt a little. Make me scream. Let us make war.”

War. He liked that. And maybe this would always be the way they found some form of peace.

But he also wanted it softer.

He wanted her to beg.

He wanted to make love to her too.

“Mmm.” He hauled the slap of his belt free of its loops. “As my queen commands.”

And then he hauled her wrists together into one fist, and looped the belt around them. He carried her to the bed and tied her there.

Solveig squirmed. “What are you doing?”

“Capturing the enemy. I’m going to make her scream.”

He slapped her lightly between the thighs.

A gasp stole from her lips.

He watched as shock stole over her expression, a creeping tide of red. And then she was glaring at him as if she wanted to rip his heart out of his chest.

A dangerous reckless laugh tore through him. “Of course, you like that.”

“I’m going to murder you with my bare hands.”

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, hauling her shirt up until she was bare before him. His fingers found her, wet and soaking. “Don’t like the way I make war? I can always be softer. Gentler. I can make love to you. Like this….” Marduk traced lazy fingertips around her clit, watching as she stiffened. “This could be my tongue.”

And then he was sliding one finger inside her.

Another.

Stretching her with soft thrusts.

Watching her twist beneath him as he curled both fingers and found that wicked spot deep within her.

“Goddess,” she breathed, her eyes going distant and her thighs falling apart as if she couldn’t help herself. “Damn you. Damn you!”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chided. “Tell me how much you love this. Tell me how much you need me.”

“I need you to— Oh, fuck.”

Perfect. Just perfect. He withdrew his fingers and slapped her again, his hand firming around her pussy.

This time, it tore a scream from her lips.

“You want me so badly you’re burning with it.”

“Gods, I’m going to kill you,” she hissed, as she writhed against his hand.

“Mmm.” He burrowed his face against her throat and kissed his way lower. “No, you’re not. You’re going to take everything I can give you and more. You like this. Melt for me, my love.”

Another ringing slap.

She arched and cried out, and then he was soothing her once more, sliding his fingers through the wet crevice between her thighs. Feeling the heat in her tender flesh.

“I will make you beg for mercy,” she promised. “I will make you suffer—”

“All these dirty words you whisper.” He found her breast through the shirt, his tongue circling her nipple. A breath tore from her. “Pleasure? Or pain? You decide.”

Those perfect white teeth sunk into her lower lip.

So stubborn.

He tongued her through the linen, until it was wet with his saliva. Little cat-laps that made her curse and writhe. Tapping against her weeping pussy. Grinding the heel of his palm there, until every inch of her was desperate.

“Open for me,” he commanded.

It must have been a shock to her too, for her thighs fell wide open.

“Mmm.” He captured her ass in his hands and bent down, breathing her in. The thatch of dark hair atop her mons was ticklish. “You’re so damned pretty.”

“I am not—”

The rest of her words were lost as he opened his mouth and delved his tongue into the slick lips between her thighs.

The taste of her was intoxicating. He could taste himself there too.

And the sounds she made….

“Pretty,” she gasped. “Is so… insipid.”

“Pretty,” he insisted. “You even taste as sweet as a raspberry.”

He found the heart of her pleasure and suckled on that firm little bud.

“Marduk!” Solveig arched beneath him, like a bowstring pulled taut. He heard leather twist as she pulled desperately at her bonds.

“Let me make it feel better.” He licked her, long and slow. Plunging his tongue inside her, and kissing her as hotly and wetly as he did her mouth.

Then his fingers were inside her, even as her entire body quivered. Close. So close.

He withdrew and slapped her again, and she screamed his name in desperation as pleasure broke over her like an enormous wave. Marduk captured her clit in his mouth again, driving her as hard and fast over that edge as she could.

The look on her face….

It stabbed him right through the heart.

For there was no dissembling now. He watched pleasure strike its way through her like lightning, and this time, for the first time, she let him capture it.

Until she was trembling and gasping, shuddering with aftershock.

Gods, he wanted to be inside her.

Tearing his trousers off, he flung them behind him and bent over her. Kissing his way up her body, he found her mouth and claimed it, letting her taste her own need on his tongue.

“Beg me,” he whispered, pinning her wrists to the bed with one hand, as he pumped the other around his erection. “Beg me for my cock.”

Some part of her must have started thinking again. Her eyes gleamed murder.

And he laughed as he nipped her nose. “This is war, Solveig. And you will surrender.”

“Let me go and I’ll think about it.”

He laughed as he forced his knee between hers, and drove it up against her sensitive pussy. She shivered as he rubbed her there. And then he brought his cock into play, dragging the head of it through her slick folds.

Solveig gasped.

Still sensitive.

Still trembling.

“Fine.” She gripped him with both knees, until he was sliding between the vee of her hips, his eager cock jerking as it fell against her wetness. “Take me.”

“Not yet, my queen.” He reached up to tug her wrists free. “Surrender. No more vengeance. Just this. Just you and me. Just us.”

He captured her palms and laced his fingers through hers, pinning her to the bed.

A flash of heat went through her dark eyes, but then she was curling her fingers through his, letting him do this.

“Good girl,” he whispered.

A devious look entered her eyes, and she nuzzled against his throat. He flinched, aware of her teeth, but then her breath rasped over his ear. “Make love to me, Marduk. Ruin me for all other dreki. Make me forget my name. Make me forget everything apart from you.”

He shuddered as those words wrapped around him. It was a ploy. She wasn’t begging for real. But the effect was just the same.

Her body opened beneath him and then he was nudging inside, breathless with the feel of her wet and slick beneath him.

“As you wish.”

He slammed inside her, driving deep until his thighs met her ass. And her smoky laugh wrapped around his heart, because no matter how often he had the upper hand, she would always own him.

Body and soul.

MARDUK WINGED his way south as fast as he could, landing in the field where the entrance to the Sadu court lay. Using Solveig’s claw necklace, he swiftly gained entry and asked for the king.

He found King Harald within his solar. The elderly dreki monarch was seated behind a desk laden with scraps of paper, a pair of glasses perched on the tip of his nose. Siv glided around the desk, laughing at something Harald was scowling at. Marduk had never managed to learn anything about her, despite all the times they’d walked together, and he’d never seen her this relaxed.

Dreki aged incredibly slowly, but there were signs of it in Harald’s graying hair and the heavy lines around his eyes. He’d been childless for nearly seven cycles, before he’d been blessed with three daughters, one after the other.

While some dreki males yearned for male heirs, Harald seemed to care little about his abundance of daughters. Marduk had seen the adoration in the king’s eyes when he’d presented them to him that first time, and every time since.

“My king,” one of the guards called, rapping his knuckles against the door.

The second Harald sensed Marduk, he looked for a companion. A little crease formed between his brows when he found none. “To what do I owe this pleasure, Prince Marduk?”

“Your Highness.” Marduk bowed his head as he stepped inside the solar. Sunlight poured through the glass. The view up here stretched from horizon to horizon. It was like floating in the clouds. “I bring news of your daughter. But first, I thought I’d start with an apology.”

Siv straightened, and even though he’d thought her mannerisms akin to a startled deer every time they’d met, a steely glint came into her eyes. “Where is my sister? Why are you here? What have you done to her?”

“Done to her?” He held his hands up in surrender, then tugged the furled missive free from his shirt pocket. “I’m here on Solveig’s behalf.”

“On her behalf?” Siv strode toward him, snatching the letter from his hands and swiftly unfurling it. “She hates you.”

“We may have come to a new understanding.”

And then she read the letter, and her eyebrows climbed to new heights. “Mmmm. I think you should see this, Father.”

What the hell had Solveig written about him?

Harald slipped his spectacles further up his nose and held the letter out a good three feet from his face, his lips silently moving. Then those piercing dark eyes locked on Marduk. “You mentioned an apology?”

He gestured to the seat opposite the king. “Do you mind if I sit?”

Harald inclined his head.

There was no point prevaricating. “Twice now, you have granted me the honor of a choice of one of your daughters, and both times I have not been as respectful of such an honor as I should have been.”

“True,” Harald said.

There were a thousand excuses, but none of them mattered. “I know I do not have the right to ask, but I will ask it. I wish for your blessing to court your daughter.”

Harald leaned back in his chair as if preparing for a lengthy chess battle. “You are already mated.”

“And you’re not fit to kiss the hem of her skirt,” Siv growled.

Marduk couldn’t help glancing at her again. Where had this fierce tiger come from? She’d barely been able to meet his eyes the last three times they spoke.

“I daresay I’m not,” he drawled, before returning his attention to Harald. “The court lines have been struck. We were bound together before your people. But the mating is a technicality only. And I wish to make it a formal one.”

“Why?”

Harald was taking no mercy upon him.

“Because… I love her.” There. It was the first time he’d been able to say the words—and maybe they should have been to her—but he wasn’t entirely certain whether she’d be able to accept them just yet. And her family meant the world to her. He needed to earn back their respect, for her sake. “And I wish to be able to support her, and protect her, and—”

“Protect her?” Siv snorted. “It’s almost as if you don’t know my sister.”

“She’s not invulnerable. She’s vicious and powerful and dangerous, but she has one weakness.”

“What?” Siv demanded.

“You,” he said simply. “And your sister and father. Solveig doesn’t love easily, but when she does, it is as fiercely as she lives the rest of her life. And she would sacrifice herself without even thinking of the consequences if she saw you at risk. I would never stop her from fighting—to do so would be to try to deny who she was— but perhaps I can be her shield. Perhaps I can watch her back while she’s hovering protectively over everyone she loves.”

“You speak as if you have seen her protectiveness in action,” Harald murmured.

Marduk chewed his lip, wondering how much he should say. “She took two arrows for me. She would have taken more. And I don’t ever want to see that happen again.”

“She is well?”

“She is still healing,” he replied. “Though she tries to hide it from me.”

“Always so stubborn.” Harald nodded toward Marduk. “You have my blessing to court her, this third and final time. But be warned, Marduk…, my patience thins. I have raised my daughters to be warriors in their own right, and they will make their own choices, but I will not tolerate further insult to any of them.”

“And I will not give it. I have been a fool twice. Never again.”

Harald arched a brow.

It was the exact expression Solveig wore at times.

Then he looked down at the missive. “She wants you to lead the warband north.”

Thank the goddess. “The alfar intend to attack through World’s End,” he said, then swiftly explained everything that had happened. “We need to be able to stop them.”

“Why you?” Siv demanded. “Why would she send them north with you?”

“She told me she couldn’t come herself.”

She’d been intending to wait outside the court, she’d admitted, and send a messenger, until he’d forced her into sending him.

There was no emotion on the king’s face.

“Did she tell you why she couldn’t come herself?” Harald finally asked.

“She swore to kill me, or else she cannot return to these halls.” He winced. “A difficult obstacle to surmount, but I will fix this mess. I swear I will fix it. This is her home.”

Harald leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. He tapped the missive against his lips. “She doesn’t need to kill you to be able to return.”

What? “But she said—”

“Ask her,” Harald interrupted. “Ask what the precise words she pledged to the goddess were.” And then he pushed to his feet. “There are always loopholes, Marduk. And perhaps once she tells you the exact wording, you might be able to figure out a way to bring my daughter home, hmm? Take the warband. Join my daughter. You haven’t yet earned my complete forgiveness, but it’s possible you can. If you do, then you have not only my permission—but my blessing—to court my daughter’s heart.”

27

Marduk pinwheeled through the sky, an entire battalion of Sadu Windriders flanking him.

Solveig waited for him, standing on an outcropping of stone halfway up the mountain. Above her, storm clouds swirled in a circle around the top of World’s End—and the heart of the storm was green.

“You’re late,” she called as he circled her.

“Did you miss me?” he demanded, as he landed and shimmered into mortal form.

“Get dressed. Draco’s scouts reported back half an hour ago. Your mother is on top of the mountain, and she’s doing something up there. Andromeda said she can feel Chaos magic in the air. They’re worried that she’s started the spell that will channel power into the key.”

He hauled his clothes on. Not even a kiss. Solveig looked like she was ready to cut throats and wade through an ocean of blood. Resting her hand on the hilt of her knife, she turned toward the mountain path as if he hadn’t just flown fifty miles in the time it took to fly forty, just to bring her a squadron of armed dreki warriors.

A little frustrating, to be sure, but then he had chosen to fall in love with a female who took duty as seriously as—

She suddenly turned around, stalking toward him as he tugged at the laces on his leather trousers. Grabbing his shirt, she hauled him down toward her for a molten kiss.

This was more like it.

Marduk seized her face in both hands, capturing her mouth and growling deep in his throat. He’d missed her. All he wanted was a damned moment to throw her over his shoulder, haul her into his bedchambers and discuss—after a not-so-brief interlude of lovemaking—what the hell her father had meant when he’d said to ask her the exact words she’d used to pledge her vengeance.

But his trousers started sliding down, and Solveig caught them. “Goddess,” she hissed, drawing back from the kiss.

“I was trying to get dressed. You were the one who distracted me.” He couldn’t help grinning at her again. “Because you missed me so much you just kissed me in front of your entire warband.”

Her cheeks pinkened as she glanced over his shoulder at the transforming warriors.

“Yes,” she said, her voice as steady as it had ever been, “I missed you. Now haul your trousers up. You’re baring your ass to my warriors.”

“The second they see this ass, they’ll know why you finally gave in to me.”

Solveig rolled her eyes. “Right now, I’m starting to wonder myself.” She paused. “Don’t get yourself killed up there.”

“Wouldn’t want to steal your opportunity from you,” he countered, as he slid his buckle into place.

And once again, she hesitated, as if she wanted to say something.

But she only nodded, expression sliding off her face once more as if Solveig had just put on the crown that said “conqueror”. “You’re right. Your life belongs to me now. See that you take good care of it.”

IT WAS A STEEP CLIMB.

Marduk found his brother and two sisters waiting just below the top of the mountain with their entire court. Haakon, Tormund, and Bryn were all in chainmail; Sirius looked like he was about to board a pirate ship with his usual black leather body armor; and Malin was armed with a book, her face pale. Of them all, she had the most to lose today, and Marduk took a moment to bend low and kiss her cheek as he arrived.

“We’ll get her back,” he promised.

Malin swallowed. “If there’s no other way….”

“Hey.” He squeezed her hand. “I promise I will make sure we take every chance we have to rescue your sister. My mother doesn’t get to win this one. I won’t let her.”

Tears gleamed in her dark eyes. “Thank you.”

He nodded to Sirius. They’d always been at odds, but for the first time, the Blackfrost returned his nod with one just as respectful.

“Thank you,” his cousin mouthed, and Marduk finally had to admit the truth: Sweet little Malin truly had tamed the evil dragon.

“Any sign of mother’s little elvish companions?”

“She’s alone,” Árdís replied grimly.

“What is she waiting for?”

“Us to present her with the means to open the portal,” came a cold voice behind him. “This is a trap.”

Draco appeared on the other rocky path that came from the other side of the mountain, with his sister and wife at his side. Several fierce Zilittu warriors fell into step behind them.

“We knew that,” Sirius replied. “The entire point of this exercise is to spring it.”

“Oh, good.” Marduk rubbed his hands together. “The bait has arrived. Do you have the dagger?”

Draco shot him a scathing look, and then reached inside his shirt. A blade appeared, the emerald in its hilt winking dangerously in the sunlight. “Here.”

He tossed the knife.

Marduk snatched it out of the air. The bronze blade was polished to within an inch of its life, and serpent-like dreki crawled up the hilt to surround the emerald. Such a fine piece of work, but even touching it made him shiver. The sensation of pure malevolence seemed to crawl up his skin from where he held it. “Thank you.”

A muscle ticked in the king’s jaw.

Marduk offered the blade, hilt first, to Andromeda. “I believe you should do the honors. You’re the reason we have a chance to save Elin today. Your king gives this up for you.”

Andromeda withdrew her hand sharply, but there was a hint of heat in her cheeks. “I can’t touch it. Even if I wished to. It’s dangerous for a Chaos-wielder to use.”

Marduk flipped the blade, staring down at it. If that was true, then neither Árdís or Ishtar could wield it either.

He finally looked at his brother.

Rurik was clad in gilded armor, his blond hair sweeping back from his brow and his face grim.

“She hurt all four of us,” Marduk finally said, offering the knife to his brother. “But she hurt you the most, I think. This should be yours. Your moment of vengeance.”

Rurik accepted the knife. The pained yearning in his eyes was both ancient and fierce, but it was the love there that struck him the hardest. “Sometimes the ones who seemingly bear no scars are the ones who hurt the most. But I will take this and I will do what needs to be done. Not for vengeance. For Elin’s sake. For Andri’s. For you, and Árdís, and Ishtar, and even Sirius.”

There was almost a bittersweet taste in his mouth. His brother understood.

Marduk could barely even reply for the hard lump in his throat. What a fool he had been. Instead, he merely nodded and fell in beside his brother—his king. “Let’s go kill this bitch once and for all.”

MARDUK WENT FIRST.

By the time he reached the top of the mountain, the storm of Chaos magic that swirled at the top had reached cyclonic proportions. Eerie green light painted the runestones, and in the midst of them, her face tilted to the sky, stood Amadea.

Her green eyes blinked open when he appeared, locking upon him.

“Hello. Mother.”

“If it isn’t my biggest disappointment. I thought you’d crawled off into some little hole somewhere and died.”

“Alas, I seem to be very good at resurrecting myself.” He gestured toward her. “Not as good as you, perhaps. Tell me, how does it feel to betray your entire race?”

“Wonderful,” she spat.

He stared at her, trapped in her bitterness and rage. “Where’s the stone that houses Andri’s soul?”

“Where you’ll never find it. I’m the only one who knows where it is, and I won’t give up that secret.”

“You’re not the only one who knows,” he pointed out. “Elin knows too. She’s still in there, Mother.”

And all they had to do was rescue her.

“She’s buried so deep she’ll never surface again.”

We’ll see about that. “Were you truly that desperate that you got into bed with the alfar? What did the elvish king promise you?”

Her smile was beautific. “Everything.”

“He’ll betray you,” he promised, taking a predatory step toward her so she wouldn’t notice Árdís and Andromeda circling the runestones. “It’s almost embarrassing to realize you’re foolish enough to believe he’ll actually repay you for your assistance. Once the elves pour into this realm, why would they let you survive? You may be able to open the portal, but once it’s open, you become a liability, because you can also close it.”

“Because I have a bargaining chip,” his mother replied. “A little secret I’ve been keeping up my sleeve about my precious son, the king, and his mortal bride.”

Marduk paused. That sounded like a threat against Freyja and Rurik. “No. You don’t get to do this anymore. You don’t get to hurt us.”

“Us?” she sneered. “Did your brother ever give a damn about you when he vanished for thirty years?”

Even now, she could cut him straight through the heart.

But he wasn’t that lonely little boy anymore.

“Us,” he repeated. “Because no matter how hard you tried to destroy the four of us, we are stronger together. Us. Because no matter what you did to twist our minds, we no longer believe your lies. Us. Because together, the four of us will finally bring an end to you and your bitter, twisted reign. It’s over, Mother.”

“It’s over when I say it’s over!” she hissed. “Do you think you can defeat this?”

A whirlwind of Chaos energy soared into the skies around her.

“No. But they can,” he said.

Haakon and Árdís stepped forward from the left, hand in hand.

“Hello, Mother,” Árdís said quietly, her hair streaming down her spine in loose blonde waves.

Amadea’s eyes locked upon Haakon, and rage smoldered within them as her gaze dropped to where their hands were linked. “Still defiling yourself with that human, I see. What will you do if you’ve bred a drekling upon yourself?”

“I will love them regardless, because to be drekling is not a weakness. It is a gift,” Árdís replied fiercely, her other hand caressing her abdomen. “I will do what you never could. I will love this child and protect it, and see that the world’s concept of dreki and drekling is forcibly changed forever.”

Andromeda appeared to the right, side by side with Ishtar.

His heart ached when he saw how his twin couldn’t look toward the figure in the circle. Her gaze was lowered, her shoulders hunched.

“I love you,” he sent toward her in a thought-thread. “Be brave. She never deserved you.”

Ishtar found him, her eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“She fears you because your magic is stronger,” he told her. “But she couldn’t love you, because she lacks the ability to truly love anyone. She never loved any of us. But we love you. We’re your family. Not her.”

“Oh, look,” Amadea sneered. “We’re all here.” She searched for Rurik. “Where’s my eldest little traitor?”

“Here,” Rurik replied, stepping forth with Freyja. And then he ignored her and turn to look at all of them in turn. “Are we ready to do this?”

“Oh, please do,” Amadea said.

“Can we cross the circle?” Marduk asked Andromeda.

“One way to find out,” Haakon said and stepped across the line.

The second he crossed it, a raw cry of pain echoed in his throat, and his knees buckled. He hit the grass, the lower half of his body spasming where it lay in the circle.

Árdís screamed.

“Goddess’s mercy!” Marduk grabbed the dragon-slayer by the shoulders and hauled him backward until he was free of the circle. “How about we discuss such heroics first? You’re linked to my sister.”

Tormund helped him haul the enormous dragon-slayer out of the way.

“Haakon?” Árdís demanded. “Are you all right?”

Haakon tried to roll onto his side, and couldn’t make it. “Jesus.” His face was pale.

“What happened to him?” Marduk demanded.

Andromeda placed a hand to his forehead. “The queen has created a vortex. Essentially, it’s a trap. Anyone who enters that circle will find their energy sucked from them. He has no Chaos magic of his own, but the spell attacked the link between he and Árdís.”

“You fools. Did you think you would come rushing here to stop me?” The vicious delight in Amadea’s eyes stayed him as she surveyed the army surrounding the top of World’s End. “You’ve brought me exactly what I need to open the portal and fulfill my part of my oath to Tyndyr.”

“What do we do?” Solveig demanded.

Her warband circled the skies above them, but she’d chosen to be on the ground with him. Marduk didn’t know what that meant, but he was grateful to have her ruthless sense of practicality at his side.

“Wait her out?” Árdís suggested.

“Unfortunately, those circles will expand until they can find enough magic to gnaw on,” Andromeda said.

Solveig’s dark eyes met his. “I have my arrows. Dwarven-forged. They’ll cut through any sort of magic.”

And then Elin would die.

He hated to say it. “Last resort only. We have to give Elin a chance.”

“Fine. How do we enter the circle?” Solveig asked. “You saw what happened to Haakon.”

Marduk turned to consider it.

His mother watched him, her eyes alight with green fire.

She’d have attacked them by now if that was her plan. He strolled along the edges of the Chaos circle, examining it as he reached toward Ishtar. “Can you see how this is made?”

“Of course,” she replied. “Can you not?”

Chaos twined itself in strange waves. He’d thought it a circle at first, but if he looked closely, his eyes started to separate the individual strands. Instantly, the ache between his eyebrows was back and he wanted to vomit. He blinked to clear his vision before it crippled him. “Assume I’m some male idiot who was never meant to be able to use this magic.”

“It’s not a circle,” Ishtar replied. “It’s a coil, and it all leads back to her. If a dreki crosses it, then it will suck the Chaos magic from their body and feed it back to her. If Chaos is wielded against it, it does the same.”

“So we can’t cross it and we can’t break through it with magic.”

Ishtar hesitated. “I could—”

“No.” He wasn’t bringing her into this unless necessary. “You’re what she wants. This trap is designed for you, and if she gets her claws into you, we’re done here. She will have the power to open the portal.”

“Unless I reverse the flow of magic within the coil,” she replied slowly. “I could suck the magic from her, until the spell fades to nothing.”

Too dangerous. Far too dangerous. There were no guarantees that if Ishtar stepped within—

“Can you do that? Through me?”

“Maybe,” she whispered, their bond strengthening as she examined him.

“Pull back.” The strain in his temples was back. She did, and he could breathe again. Marduk considered the entire trap. “If I cross the circle, she’ll try and suck the magic from me. But you can stop her. You can reverse the flow through me, and try to return the favor. We can weaken her to the point where Rurik can stab her with the knife and suck Mother’s soul from Elin’s body.”

“I don’t think you realize how much this will hurt,” she replied dubiously. “I know it hurts when you try to touch Chaos, and trying to work through you feels… heavy.”

Hurt was a slight understatement.

“Let me deal with that.” There was one last thing. “If we fail, and she manages to latch on to you, then you have to cut the bond between us. You have to let me go.”

Sadness swamped him.

“I know you don’t want to be alone. But what you have to realize is that you’re not alone now. If I fall, then Rurik and Árdís will be there for you. They love you just as much as I do.”

“I don’t—”

“Promise me,” he insisted.

“If we fail, then I will pull back and break the bond.”

Her doubt ate at him.

“I love you,” he sent. “Give me a moment to explain to the others.”

And then he cut the link between them.

“I have a plan,” he said, turning to the trio of women staring at him. He deliberately looked at Solveig. “You’re not going to like it.”

MARDUK STRIPPED his coat off as the women prepared.

Solveig wore a stony expression as she withdrew a dwarven-forged arrow and nocked it lightly. “Last resort,” she told him when he scowled at her.

“If we fail,” he said, “then I’ve told Ishtar to cut the bond between us. I want you to promise me one thing.”

Solveig looked up sharply. “What?”

“I don’t know if I can trust her to do it. She loves me and she’s so tangled around me that she may not be able to pull back in time. She may not want to.”

“If you fail, then this is all over, because then your mother has the power to open that portal.”

“Exactly.” He caught her wrist, drawing her attention back to him. “Which is why I want you to put this arrow through my heart.”

Solveig reared back. “What?”

“If it hits a point where we’re losing, I’ll give you a signal.” He squeezed her hand, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Don’t you hesitate. You kill me. You break the bond between us so that my sister is safe. So this world is safe.”

“Why are you insisting upon this?” Solveig demanded. She lifted the arrow. “I can end this. Now.”

“Because Elin deserves a chance. And because this is what I do, Solveig. I take risks. And Elin…. She’s just an innocent girl caught in a trap. I promised Malin I would try to get her back, and I intend to keep that promise.”

“What about your promise to me?” A faint sheen brightened her eyes.

Marduk recoiled. “Are you… crying…?”

“No. Goddess, no.” She dashed at her eyes. “I am about to murder you myself. Do you have any idea what you’re asking of me?”

“Yes.” His voice roughened, because he knew she was back there in that moment where her mother was begging her to twist the knife. “Do you know why I’m asking it of you?”

“Because I’m just ruthless enough to do it?”

“Because I trust you,” he breathed, capturing her fingers in his. “Because I know that you—and only you—are strong enough to do the right thing when it comes to saving our people. You are a queen, Solveig, and queen’s fight to the last.”

Anguish twisted her face. “I… I….”

“Yes?” he breathed, leaning closer as his heart kicked swiftly behind his ribs.

“I don’t know if I can,” Solveig admitted.

“If I die, then you can go home.” He reached out and captured a lock of her hair in his fingers. “You’ll be free to live your life the way you—"

“I don’t want to go home! Not without you!”

The confession was breathtaking.

All these weeks spent hoping she would lower her guard, and here it was, just when he needed her to be ruthless.

Marduk captured her face in his hands and kissed her, a shudder running through him as he drew back and rested his forehead against hers. “I’m going to try not to die, Solveig. Because you and I still have a reckoning ahead of us. But to do my best, I need to know I can rely on you to protect this world. Promise me you’ll use that bow if I give you the signal.”

She sucked in a sharp hiss of breath. “I promise. And then I’m going to trap your spirit in a glass bottle and lock it away on a dusty shelf somewhere so you can never leave me. I’m going to harangue you every day about your stupidity.”

He forced a smile. “If we get out of this alive, then I’m going to lock you away in my chambers until you admit you love me.”

She reared back in shock.

“Because you do,” he said firmly. “You do, Solveig. I know you do.”

“You’re so arrogant,” she grumbled, because it was safer than agreeing.

The smile he flashed her felt like it split his face. She hadn’t denied it.

He kissed her again, long, hard, and furiously.

And by the time he drew back, they were both trembling.

“If we survive this,” he whispered, “then we’re both going to return to your court, and deal with this little issue about you making a pledge of vengeance against me to a goddess.”

“Sounds like a lovely little day trip after a war. Why not take on a goddess’s wrath? If we can defeat an army of elves, then we can deal with a puny goddess.”

He winked at her.

“Cover me,” he said before he stepped back and let her go.

Amadea stood within the circle, her palms held down and her face tilted to the sky. Andromeda had been right. The vortex of magic was a foot wider than it had been, stretching almost all the way to the runestones around the clearing. It vibrated, and every time it shivered, it would expand an inch.

“Ishtar?” he called, closing his eyes.

“Here.”

“Are you ready?”

He opened his eyes and suddenly she was staring out through them too. He could feel the press of her in his head, like a drill set between his brows. “Let’s do this.”

The first step through the circle felt like stepping through a whirlwind. Magic tore at him, tearing strips off his clothes and ripping at his hair. But it was the way it ravaged through his body that made him gasp. He staggered, feeling the spell clutch hungrily at his very soul before a firm, hard shield came between him and the magic.

If that was what Haakon had felt, no wonder he’d collapsed.

His mother opened her eyes, triumph darkening her irises. “Oh, you little fool.”

She clenched her fist, and it felt like she’d grabbed one of his arms, while Ishtar held the other.

The suction was immense.

“Ishtar!” he yelled, as his hand lifted—completely out of his control—and waved away a spurt of magic.

“Stop fighting me. Let me in. Let me do this.”

Marduk surrendered.

The drill finally broke through his skull, stabbing deep into his brain. A sound came out of his mouth, somewhat like a low moan, and something hot and wet slid from his nose. Blood, perhaps.

But the spell was no longer tearing at him.

Instead, it felt like he was grabbing hold of one end of the coil, and slowly hauling it back toward him arm-over-arm, like he was looping rope.

“No!” Amadea rasped, jerking her hand up. “No!”

The suction intensified. Step by step, he made his way toward her.

He could taste blood now, his ears ringing and the pain in his sinuses threatening to drive him to his knees.

“I don’t… have much… more… in me.”

“Keep walking,” Ishtar told him. “I almost have it.”

And then suddenly the spell broke.

One moment it was sucking the life from his veins, and the next thing he knew, power was pouring back through him. He went to his knees with a shout as his head exploded.

And then it was gone.

Ishtar was gone.

The pain was gone.

The spell gone.

The world went white and silent, his ears ringing as the spell ground out. He found himself staring up at his mother, who gaped at him from Elin’s body.

“No!” she screamed, staring at the circular object in her hand.

It was mere gold again, but the emerald in its heart flashed, and suddenly it was sucking at them. All of them. The spell had been broken, but now it demanded its due. A soul.

“No!” Amadea dropped the key, murderous intent filling her expression as she ripped at the dagger sheathed at her belt.

“Do it!” he yelled to Malin, staggering to his feet and wrapping his arms around Elin’s slim body. He wrestled the dagger from her. “Get Elin out!”

Pebbles skittered across the ground toward the key. Dirt flew toward it. The emerald darkened, until it was a gaping black hole of magic. Deprived of magic, it sought to drag the entire earth within it.

“Do it,” he screamed as his mother tried to headbutt him.

Árdís stepped forward, both hands aglow. “You should have died when you had the chance, Mother.”

Green light smoked away from Elin’s body. She threw her head back and screamed.

Malin continued chanting, reading directly from the book in her hands.

“Let go of me!” Amadea raged, driving her elbow back into Marduk’s solar plexus.

“Never.”

She screamed and fought like a wildcat, until his arms were bruised and bloodied. Malin’s chanting grew louder. The light springing from Árdís and Ishtar’s fingertips formed a net around the former queen.

“I will see you all dead!” Amadea screamed.

“Alas, you appear to be stripped of all your weapons.”

She started laughing. “All but one.”

What did she mean by that?

He gave her a sharp look, but Rurik stepped forward with the knife forged of raw matter.

A Sumerian blade woven of a hundred dreki souls.

One that would cause no harm to a physical body, but would slice straight through a soul.

This was the dangerous bit. Because the knife would not differentiate between Elin and Amadea’s souls.

“Malin?” Marduk yelled.

Her voice rose. A silvery form began to slip from Elin’s body—a startled wisp of a blonde drekling looking around her in shock as Malin’s magic drew her sister’s soul from her body. Elin’s soul flew toward the necklace Malin held and vanished inside the gem.

“Done!” Malin called, sinking to her knees as the strain of the spell struck her down.

“And now we finish this,” Rurik said grimly, driving the soul-blade directly into Elin’s chest. “I cast you from this body. You will find no tether here. You will never ride the horizon with your ancestors. The goddess shall not welcome you. You will be forgotten and nameless, known only as the murderous dreki queen who was struck from her court like a stain on its history. The only name the eddas shall know shall be Reynar, the great king who lived his life with honor.”

The scream that tore from her was so high-pitched it could have shattered glass. Grass whipped past, vanishing inside the heart of the key.

Elin’s body suddenly slumped in Marduk’s arms.

Rurik tossed the kunuk la’atzu into the gaping hole. It vanished with a sizzle of sparks, and then there was a small implosion. The pressure vanished. They all collapsed on the grass as the key dropped onto the ground, inert once more.

Marduk’s heart pounded. She was gone. His mother was finally gone. His ears were ringing.

“Is Elin breathing?” Sirius yelled.

Marduk hauled himself out of the reverie and held his hand in front of the drekling’s mouth. “Yes.”

Malin threw herself over her sister’s body, squeezing tight. “Thank you.”

He met Solveig’s eyes. “Looks like we’re going to be returning to your father’s court for that promised trip.”

Solveig muttered under her breath and tore a strip of linen from her shirt, using it to wipe at his nose. “Lucky. You were lucky.”

He eased Elin’s unconscious body into Sirius’s arms and then slung his arm around Solveig. “She’s finally gone.”

He wanted to spin her in the air.

He couldn’t stop smiling.

Rurik stared down at the key, before he pocketed it. “It feels like an enormous weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Come. Let’s put Elin back in her body.”

The pair of them smiled at each other.

And gods, he felt the apology on the tip of his tongue—the resentment he’d once felt for his brother, the way he’d cried into his pillow for years because he’d thought the brother he’d loved more than anything had killed his father—none of it mattered.

Because it had all been a lie.

And that lie died. Today.

“I wish I had known you as a young dreki,” he finally said. “I wish I could have made you proud of me.” His voice broke a little. “I wish I’d been there when you needed me.”

“You bloody fool. I’ve always been proud of you.” Rurik’s eyes flared gold. “And you’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

It was a moment he wished could extend forever, but Sirius’s head suddenly snapped up, his nostrils flaring. “Wait. I can smell—"

“Now,” yelled a melodious voice, and then an arrow hissed out of nowhere and drove straight through Rurik’s chest.

28

“Rurik!” Freyja screamed as she went to one knee.

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t… stand. The pain in her chest was indescribable, and when she lifted her head, she saw her husband slump to the ground in Marduk’s arms.

She had to get to him.

Just had to… reach him.

Sirius was there. Sirius could heal him. But she could hold Rurik here, through the strength of their mating bond, if nothing else….

She crawled forward, choking on the pain before fetching up in front of a pair of polished boots.

“Well, now” came a mocking voice. “This is more like it. A queen on her knees before me.”

A rough hand caught her face, and she was forced to look up into the sneering expression of the most handsome, most beautiful man she’d ever—

No. Handsome was her husband’s once-broken nose. Handsome was the kindness in Rurik’s smile, the joy in his amber eyes when she teased him…. There was nothing beautiful about the cold, sinister smile on this creature’s face.

Nothing but malice.

And the bow in his hand gave her no doubts she was looking at her husband’s would-be murderer.

“Get out of my way,” she said, looking for Rurik desperately.

Someone slammed into the elf, driving him away from her. Andromeda. Freyja lurched to her feet, one arm clutched against her chest.

But as she watched, an image of herself fell to her knees beside Rurik, sobbing as she reached for his hand—

It was enough to cut through her grief and fear.

Freyja reared back in shock. “What…?”

It was so real, so lifelike, that she might have already been at his side.

Glamor.

Rurik needed her.

But she suddenly realized that the danger was right here, right now. And if she didn’t pull herself together and defend herself, then there would be nobody to keep Rurik anchored to the mortal realm.

She spun around, calling lightning to her fingertips as she turned on the elf. Ishtar flinched away from it.

But the bastard grappled with Andromeda, and to wield her magic would be to hurt the Zilittu queen too.

“Andromeda.” Draco drew his sword with a steely rasp, and Freyja suddenly realized that the five of them were trapped in some sort of translucent bubble. She could see dreki and alfar fighting all around them; she could even hear the distant clash of swords, as if the fighting was miles away.

But nobody burst into this little circle on the ground.

They moved around it as if not even aware of it.

Damn it. She was trapped in a side pocket of reality with only Draco, Andromeda, and Ishtar for company.

And her husband was dying on the other side.

Draco’s voice held a strange lilt to it as he stepped forward. “If you hurt one hair on my queen’s head, then I will make you beg for the relief of death.”

The elf grabbed a fistful of the Zilittu queen’s hair and sniffed it with a vicious smile. “Stay right where you are.”

His voice cut through them all, and Freyja’s feet glued themselves to the ground. What on earth?

Fury etched itself on Draco’s face, and he held one hand toward Andromeda. The impotent look of rage in his eyes was frightening.

“Let her go!” Freyja cried, drawing the knife at her side.

The creature grabbed Andromeda harder and put the knife to her throat. “Oh, no, a royal decree. Whatever shall I do, Your Highness?” His voice changed, softened, slid over her skin like silk. “Put the knife down, little queen, and get on your hands and knees and crawl toward me.”

And then he laughed.

Freyja’s hand tightened around the hilt of the blade. She could sense his voice slithering over her skin, seeking a way inside her head.

No. If she gave in, she would crawl, and then he’d bury that knife in her heart. Her other hand splayed over her lower abdomen. It wasn’t just her life he toyed with, though she hadn’t even had the chance to tell Rurik the truth. She’d wanted to wait for a moment where he wasn’t so worried about his mother’s scheme.

She’d wanted it to be a moment they could enjoy.

I will not let this bastard kill my child.

I will not let him harm my husband.

Freyja took her first step toward him, her hand curling around her knife as she gave a shiver and shed the compulsion to crawl. “Put your own knife on the floor and kiss my boots, and I might just let you live.”

Tyndyr stared at her, his eyes widening. “How did you—”

And then his gaze shifted to hers, and his jaw dropped open, a wild light filling his eyes.

“Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise,” the creature said with a laugh, and then its features blurred, and the perfection dripped from his face.

Freyja hesitated. The alfar warrior was still blond and homicidally good-looking, but there was something wild and savage about him, and his eyes, his eyes were just like hers—

“Stop it,” said a voice to her left.

The elf stiffened, his glee souring a little before a strange light came into his eyes. “Oh, now this is perfect.”

Freyja’s heart kicked into her throat. “Ishtar,” she whispered as her sister-in-law walked slowly toward them, Chaos energy turning her eyes a violent green. “No! Don’t get too close!”

But Ishtar kept walking.

“You lied to me,” Ishtar whispered, a single tear sliding down her face. “You said you were my friend, and that if I opened the portal for you, you’d go home. I wanted to help you, because that is what friends do, and you lied to me.”

Tyndyr held his hands out. “What can I say? This is war, Princess. And war is brutal and bloody. But we can still be friends.” He moved toward her. “I do want to go home. And you’re going to open another portal for me, now that your bitch mother is useless to me.”

If he got his hands on Ishtar—

“Princess,” Draco warned. He fought against invisible chains. “Stay away from him.”

Freyja hurled her whip of lightning at him.

Light exploded in front of her. Tyndyr burned as white-hot as phosphorus for a second, and Ishtar screamed as he waved the lightning away from him.

It all happened at once.

Heat rolled over her. Light. Freyja waved it apart, catching sight of the elf in the midst of that burning supernova. The shining ones, her mother had called them. And though the light revealed Draco on his knees and screaming with his hands over his eyes, and Andromeda clutching at her own face, it glanced off Freyja as though it reflected from a mirror.

She drew the knife at her hip and lunged forward, driving it into the elf’s shoulder. They were plunged into a darkness so absolute it seemed as though night had swallowed the sun, until she blinked and realized it was only the absence of light after such brightness.

The elf snarled and kicked Andromeda forward into Draco’s arms. He moved faster than Freyja could imagine, grabbing her wrist and hauling her into his arms.

The stink of burned metal singed her nostrils.

Freyja yanked herself back, slightly off-balance, and then she cracked her forehead into the bastard’s nose.

He staggered back, clutching at his face as blood spurted between his fingers. But he didn’t let go of her.

Agony suddenly lanced through her.

She clutched at her chest, staggering forward, the knife dropping from nerveless fingers.

What was happening to her?

Had she been… shot?

No. Not her. Her heart. Her soul.

“Rurik,” she whispered.

Something was happening to him.

And then there was a knife to her throat, and the game was over. “Dying, little one,” said a dangerous voice right in her ear. “Your filthy wretch of a king is dying. But you won’t die. I won’t let you. No, you’re going to be the greatest gift of all. I know a certain alfar king who would love to get his hands on you.”

“No!” She had to get to her mate.

“Open the portal,” he told Ishtar, hauling Freyja back against his chest. “Or I will kill her.”

And then his knife slid between the valley of Freyja’s breasts and locked, point- first on her heart.

Freyja clutched at his hand, meeting Ishtar’s gaze. If he took her to Álfheimr, then this war would be won before even a blow had been delivered, for Rurik would tear the world apart before he let her go.

If he survived.

“Don’t do it,” she warned. “Don’t listen to him. Get out of here. Go to Rurik. He’ll protect you.”

“No!” Ishtar blurted, one hand outstretched. “Don’t hurt her.”

“I won’t ask you again,” the elf sneered. “Open the portal to Álfheimr or I’ll kill her.”

“He’s not going to kill me!” she cried desperately. “He wants to gift me to his king!”

“Her head will be a gift, if I cannot give her myself.”

Ishtar drew herself up straight, magic starting to glow in her eyes. “I have your word that neither of us will be harmed?”

Tyndyr laughed again. “I give you my word, Princess. Neither of you shall be harmed within the halls of Álfheimr. I will lay my life down on that fact. Now open the portal.”

“Ishtar, don’t believe him!”

But there was a firm resolve in Ishtar’s eyes. “We go to Álfheimr.”

And then her voice whispered in Freyja’s mind, “Trust me, Freyja. I Saw this. It has to happen like this. It’s the only way to beat them.”

Magic streamed past her.

A kaleidoscope of colors.

Freyja tried to scream, but as the portal sprang to life around her, she realized the truth: No one could hear her. No one could see her.

In front of her, a woman who looked like her knelt by Rurik’s side, tears streaming down her face as Sirius tried to heal him.

It was so real, she almost believed it herself.

“Rurik!” she tried to scream, as the portal enveloped the pair of them.

The last thing she saw was her husband suddenly jerk into a sitting position, his eyes locked upon her, before the world collapsed in upon her and everything went dark.

THERE HAD BEEN no sign of the alfar, but the second the arrow struck the king, shimmering veils rippled everywhere and then dozens of elves—hundreds—suddenly appeared.

Right in their midst.

Solveig fell into a defensive stance, her gaze raking the top of the mountain. Steel clashed nearby, but it was to Marduk that her shocked gaze went.

Freyja screamed, her knees going out from under her.

Sirius caught her, but the king slowly toppled like a felled oak into Marduk’s arms. Their eyes met over the top of the king’s body, and she could almost feel Marduk’s horror.

“No,” he whispered, grasping the shaft of the arrow in Rurik’s chest.

“Heal him!” Solveig screamed, reaching over her shoulder and drawing the sword that was sheathed down her spine. “I’ll keep them off your back.” Then she turned and bellowed, “The king is down! To me! To me! Protect the king!”

Stepping back, she used her body to protect Marduk and Rurik. An arrow hissed toward her, and she slapped it from the air, lifting her sword again.

Someone bumped into her right shoulder, and she saw another figure emerge to her left.

Haakon to one side of her, his face grim as he held his blade low. Bryn on the other side, her Valkyrie blade igniting into flames as she drew it. And over the top of all it, Solveig could hear the booming laugh of the giant axe man.

“And here I thought I was going to miss the fighting!” Tormund sounded utterly delighted.

“You’re an idiot,” Haakon snapped. “Keep your mind on the battle.”

“You’re just jealous because I’ve got a shiny new axe which hasn’t been blooded yet,” Tormund shot back. “I’ll bet you your weight in gold that I kill more of these mincing little pricks than you do.”

“Done,” Haakon said, stepping forward and engaging a pair of alfar that came at him.

“And if I win,” Bryn yelled, stepping forward to slam her boot into an alfar shield. “Then I want a crown. A legendary crown.”

“Where am I going to get a crown from?” Tormund demanded.

“I’ve been listening to some tales of trolls,” the former Valkyrie replied. “There’s an ancient Viking graveyard to the south of us….”

“If there are draugr there, then you can get your own crown,” Tormund replied.

Bryn clucked like a chicken.

Solveig shook her head. The foolishness was spreading. She lunged forward as one of the alfar appeared out of nowhere. Steel rang on steel, and then she went to one knee, below his next strike, and brought her blade across his midriff.

The elf gave a startled cry, swinging off-balance.

Solveig stood and kicked him in the chest, spilling entrails out of him everywhere.

“That’s three!” panted the big Norseman.

Solveig waved a hand as two elves sprinted toward her, unleashing a torrent of Air. She flung them off the top of the mountain, listening to their screams as they hurtled to their deaths.

It was a moment of respite in the middle of battle. She fell back. “Marduk?”

“Got the arrow… out.” He knelt by his brother’s side, hands pressing desperately over the king’s chest.

Sirius knelt by the king’s head, his fingers pressed against Rurik’s temples even as Freyja clutched his hand.

“If anyone can heal him,” Marduk whispered to the queen, “then it will be Sirius.”

There was no emotion on Freyja’s face. Merely blankness. It was as if she hadn’t heard him.

The Blackfrost’s lips thinned, as if he heard them but didn’t dare divert his attention long enough to comment. A single glance at the wound told Solveig everything she needed to know

This would be close.

And then Rurik sat upright, trying desperately to grab something.

Solveig followed his gaze. Draco lifted himself off Andromeda, having thrown himself over her as a dreki shield.

And right in the center of a clear patch of grass was an elf on his knees, screaming his rage to the sky.

“No!” The elf yelled, shaking a fist at the sky. “Come back, you bitch! You were supposed to take me with you!”

Solveig drew up short. What the hell?

And then she recognized the sulky pout of his mouth.

“You,” she whispered, her blade straightening.

Tyndyr.

He looked at her as if he heard her. The grief on his face vanished, and he pushed to his feet slowly, as if he shook off his loss. “I’ll slake my rage on you, you filthy dreki bitch.”

The world seemed to narrow.

The fight around them vanished, until all Solveig could hear was metal clashing on metal in the distance.

“Stay here,” she told Marduk. “This bastard’s mine.”

A pair of Zilittu warriors rushed at Tyndyr. Flashes of steel blurred the air, their blades meeting some form of resistance, but it wasn’t until the tall blond warrior suddenly appeared behind one of the dreki that she knew what was happening. He drove his sword through the Zilittu’s back, and then threw the dying dreki into his companion. They both went down, and the elf stepped forward and drove his blade through the other’s eye.

The dreki died with a scream.

Fast. Almost impossibly fast.

And using glamor to cover his tracks.

“Now it’s just you and me,” she told the elvish general.

Tyndyr shot her a contemptuous smile as he used his fingers to flick dreki blood from his sword. “Consider it my pleasure to end your life, little wyrm.”

Solveig sneered at him. “You’re not the first male to try. And you won’t be the last. Maybe I’ll make a pretty crown with your finger bones.”

He whirled toward her, and she moved to meet the blow—except her sword swept right through him, plunging her off balance. The image in front of her suddenly dissolved like mist.

A boot slammed between her shoulder blades from behind.

Solveig crashed into the ground.

She rolled to the left, coming up with her sword in hand, just as Tyndyr stabbed his blade into the ground where she’d been only seconds earlier.

He swept past her in a blur that defied her vision and then spun, his cloak flaring out behind him. With a mocking bow, he tossed his sword from left to right hand and gave it a little flourish.

“You filthy wyrms have forgotten how to fight.”

Solveig scrambled to get to her feet, her nostrils flaring. He’d somehow… glamored her. What she’d thought was her opponent was mere illusion.

Which meant he was more dangerous than she’d imagined.

Right. Solveig straightened. She couldn’t rely on her vision. The eyes could be fooled. The ears could be fooled. But no magical creature had ever been able to fool the nose.

Tyndyr stalked her in a steady circle, and Solveig crossed one foot over the other, echoing him. A hint of scent told her he was not where he looked to be.

A sword came out of nowhere, and Solveig did her best to meet it. The edge of the blade rippled back into nothingness, and then he appeared out of nowhere. “You’re learning. Not fast enough though.”

Tyndyr smiled. And then suddenly there were six of him, all circling her.

One swung his sword in a loose-wristed circle. Another beckoned her forward with two fingers. And three of them laughed, even as the last one crouched low.

The complexity of his glamor made her swallow.

But she’d been training for this moment from birth.

She was smaller, leaner, technically weaker than most dreki males, but if she’d ever had a hope of holding her own, her mother had explained, then she would have to be better than they were.

“Close your eyes, Solveig,” whispered her mother’s voice. “And sense my attack. Don’t see it, read it in every fiber of air that sweeps past you.”

Solveig closed her eyes and stepped into a defensive stance.

Air was her strength. She opened herself up to her powers, and suddenly she was a gust of breeze in the world, feeling every little current sweep over her skin. And as those currents touched her, she could feel what they were saying.

Left.

He was to the left of her.

A sword whined, and Solveig brought her own up to meet it. Steel shrieked on not-steel—or whatever the hell that metal was. Solveig followed up with a boot to Tyndyr’s chest and heard his gasp of shock as he staggered back.

He was used to wielding illusions and trickery to win his fights. But technically, his sword work wasn’t as good as hers. And after centuries of relying on his illusions, he’d forgotten what it truly meant to wage battle.

Solveig lunged forward, their blades clashing again. He recovered quickly, and she twisted as she sensed a second attack, moving as if she was the air itself. Again and again and again.

Blood sprayed hotly across her face as the tip of her sword cut through his shoulder as if his flesh was made of butter. Solveig opened her eyes, no longer relying on them, and saw fear flicker in his odd-colored eyes as he clapped a hand to his arm.

Suddenly, a half dozen images coalesced over him and then settled into one.

“Iron hurts, doesn’t it?” She crouched low. “It affects your magic. Not so easy to play games when you’re bleeding.”

“You bitch.” Mottled color spread across his cheeks, and then he attacked with a viciousness that surprised her.

But the air told her he wasn’t in front of her anymore.

She lunged forward, sweeping her blade through the glamored form of him, pretending to fall for his feint. The trick was not overextending. A slight twist of the wrist, and then she captured the hilt with her other hand and stabbed it backwards, beneath her right arm.

A hard weight drove onto the sword from behind, a gush of breath wetting the back of her neck.

Solveig spun low beneath a counter blow, taking the bastard’s feet out from under him.

He collapsed with her sword still buried in her gut, both hands clutched around it. Shock painted itself across his face in delicious strokes.

She’d think of him like this in the aftermath. Scrabbling in the dirt like a turtle on its back as he gasped and tried to wrench the steel of her blade from his body’s embrace, even as his hands burned at its touch.

Solveig reached out and jerked her sword free of him. “There’s something you should know about me. I learn quickly. And I never make the same mistake twice. Get up.”

Gritting his teeth, he moved to push to his feet, and she kicked him right in the face.

He flipped backwards, scrabbling to roll away from the blow that never came. “You said—”

“I didn’t say I was going to let you make your feet.” Solveig laughed. “When you fight wyrms, you don’t grant them honor. Honor is for a worthy foe, and you’re a piece of shit beneath my boot. Crawl.”

Tyndyr growled at her through bloodstained teeth. “I will make you—”

She drove the heel of her boot down on his fingers, smiling viciously as he screamed. The crunch his bones made was the best sound she’d ever heard. “Beg me,” she whispered. “Beg me for your life.”

Tyndyr scrabbled toward his fallen sword, and she let him go, stalking forward slowly. His broken hand clutched his gut wound, and he hissed at her through bloodied teeth.

“Not so pretty now,” she taunted.

He drove toward her in a desperate attack and Solveig dodged the swing of his sword and brought her clenched hand up. Tyndyr was swept off his feet in a gust of air and flung into a mini whirlwind. His scream sounded like music.

“You thought I was going to be an easy throat to slit. You mocked me. You tried to make me crawl. You forget who you’re fighting,” she hissed. “I am a dreki queen, and I will make you beg for my mercy.”

Bringing her hand back down, she slammed him into the ground.

He lay there, gasping.

Around him, the sounds of fighting dwindled. Most of his cohort were bleeding, and some fled.

Grabbing a fistful of Tyndyr’s hair, she hauled his face up and set her sword to his throat. “Look at them run. You’ve spent a thousand years waiting for this moment, and it crumbles before you. I want you to see it. I want you to know it. You are defeated before you are even begun.”

A broken laugh wheezed through his lungs. “You think we’ve lost? Have you ever played chess? This was all a gambit. Capture the queen and you have won the war.”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” she mocked. “At last count we had three of them here, and all are accounted for.”

“Are they? We’ve won. We’ve won, and you don’t even know it yet. They’re in Álfheimr now. Both of them.”

She went still. “Both?”

Andromeda was nearby, fussing with Draco’s face. The skin around his eyes looked burned, and while he snarled, he obliged her.

Where was Freyja?

She should have been right there by her husband…. But even as Solveig looked, the image of the queen dissolved into a handful of leaves. And Marduk was curled over Rurik as if he sobbed on his chest.

Rurik…. She could see the franticness in the Blackfrost’s actions as he tried to shift Marduk off his brother.

And a very real fear filled her: The king must be dead.

It would break Marduk’s heart.

But she couldn’t let herself give into emotion, not now.

She forced herself to focus on the elf. “Who is ‘both’?”

“The Chaos bitch and the queen. My king doesn’t need your pathetic little key. He has Ishtar now. He can open the portal and return at the head of an army.”

Solveig punched him in the mouth.

And then she forced herself to look past him.

To Árdís, her teeth bared as she wielded a spirit-form of glowing green magic. To Andromeda, casting cyclones of Chaos from her fingertips as if she was spinning children’s tops as an elf slowly stalked her. To Bryn, driving her metal-gauntleted fist into an alfar jaw. To Malin, fierce in her dreki form as she lashed her tail and sent one of the alfar flying. To Viveka, fighting her way toward her brother.

“One queen is off the board,” she told him. “But the thing you have never understood is that true queens are not kings. We do not consider ourselves in absolutes, and we do not consider ourselves alone. There are many queens here. And if there is one thing queens do, it is to uphold other queens. You have taken one of ours, and we will get her back. We will get them both back. And then we will show your petty little king what we think of war.”

“Do it,” he rasped, as her sword drew his blood.

Solveig let him see her smile, knowing the gleam of the wolf filled it. Most of the time she kept the hunter within her contained, but this was not that moment. “Don’t think I don’t want to. But I have other plans in mind for you, you piece of filth. Your men stole my mate’s sister and sister-in-law. And the gates are currently closed. But you’re not the only one who’s been researching his enemy.” She leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “I know who you truly are. And if the King of Álfheimr wants his bastard son back in one piece, then he will ensure Ishtar and Freyja’s safety.”

“He won’t offer them for me.”

“Oh, I think he will.” She looked up as Haakon strode toward her, his burnished armor rusted with elvish blood. “Haakon. Do you have your manacles?”

The dragon-slayer hauled Tyndyr’s hands behind his back and locked the dwarven iron around his wrists. They were unbreakable, and could only be removed if Haakon truly willed it. “You’re needed elsewhere. Go. I’ve got him.”

Needed elsewhere….

Solveig straightened and surveyed the battlefield, following the tilt of Haakon’s head to where Árdís and Andromeda were kneeling by Rurik.

Or no, not so much Rurik.

Marduk.

Her heart sank like lead. Her veins filled with ice. “Marduk?”

She’d hadn’t even noticed him fall.

“What happened?”

Haakon’s face twisted grimly. “We don’t know. He just collapsed. Go. Go to him.”

Solveig started sprinting.

29

Solveig slid to her knees beside Marduk, her heart hammering in her chest. Rurik lay beside him, but he was awake and gasping, clutching at Sirius’s hand as the warlord knelt with his king’s head in his lap.

Rurik looked fine, but Marduk….

“What’s wrong with him?” Solveig demanded.

Froth burst from Marduk’s lips, his spine arching and his heels drumming on the ground. He didn’t see her. He didn’t see anything. He was trapped in some silent scream of pain.

There was no answer on Árdís’s face.

Panic burst like a bubble in Solveig’s chest. “Tell me what happened! Did he get hit from behind? Was it poison? Or magic? Or—”

“We don’t know!” Árdís tried to restrain him.

If they didn’t know, then how could she fix him?

Solveig’s throat thickened as she cupped the base of his skull in her hand. Of all the outcomes she’d expected today, this wasn’t one of them. Marduk managed to escape every trap, and he was incredibly wily when he was backed into a corner. She didn’t even know when she’d begun to worry about him, but to see him like this…. It was the loss of something she hadn’t even known was growing inside her.

“Marduk?” she whispered.

There was something very small and quiet within her; a little squeeze in her chest that felt like it could swallow her whole if she let it.

She felt the way she had when she’d begged her mother to keep breathing—if she let it in, then she was going to drown on this emotion.

No, no, no, please.

“It’s not Chaos magic,” Andromeda said, laying a hand on Solveig’s shoulder. “Indeed, there’s such an absence of Chaos within him, that he might as well have had any spark of the gift extinguished.”

But it wasn’t Marduk’s gift.

Solveig froze as she stared into the other queen’s dark eyes. “It was never his in the first place.”

“He escaped the Abyss,” Andromeda corrected. “He had to have—”

“He used Ishtar’s link to the magic.” Solveig crouched over him as her heart began to race in time with her thoughts. “He could access it. Sometimes. And when he used it in the Abyss, it nearly tore his mind apart. It was never meant for him, but it was meant for her. It’s Ishtar. She’s gone.”

His sister was gone, and the bond they’d shared was obliterated.

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Árdís demanded.

“Tyndyr kidnapped the queen and forced your sister to open a portal to Álfheimr,” Andromeda said. “They’re both gone.”

“That’s impossible. Freyja was right here two seconds ago,” Árdís argued.

“It was an illusion,” Solveig replied.

Árdís’s face drained of color. “Rurik,” she whispered.

Solveig shot the king a glance. “She’s gone. He’ll have felt the bond between them break.”

“Then why is he awake and Marduk… like this?”

“A broken mating bond sometimes takes years to kill the one who remains behind,” Andromeda said, “but Marduk has lost more than that. If he was somehow channeling Ishtar’s magic, then to have it ripped from him like that…. It creates a vacuum within him.”

“Marduk was bonded with Ishtar,” she whispered, easing Marduk’s head back down on the moss and bending to kiss his temples. It all made so much sense.

She’d been able to feel the mating bond, but he never could.

Because he was already bound.

“If he was truly bound to her, then he was bound to her magic too.” Andromeda shoved forward and slid her knees under his head.

“What does that mean?” The frustration made her want to scream. “How do we fix this? Can’t you use your magic to put more… Chaos inside him?”

“It means he’s dying,” Andromeda warned. “There’s nothing I can do. Chaos magic doesn’t work like that. His spark is gone. And while he couldn’t use it, the magic was threaded all through him.”

“I bound myself to Haakon when he was dying,” Árdís said suddenly. She looked at Solveig. “Is there… any chance?” She looked desperately toward Andromeda. “If he was linked to Ishtar’s magic, then maybe he could survive if he’s linked to Solveig’s.”

The pair of them stared at her.

“It’s possible,” Andromeda said.

Possible. Solveig’s breath came raggedly as she clutched his hand. Never, she had sworn. Ever.

But this was not capitulation to a stranger. This was not surrender. This was… Marduk. To save his life, she needed to be able to share some of her life force.

She tried.

“Please,” she whispered, reaching for him psychically. Harsh wings stirred within her. Fury at the cage closing around it. A tear rolled down her cheek. Don’t fight me, don’t fight me, don’t fight me. Just this once, please don’t fight me.

She was one with the dreki, and it was one with her.

And she could feel its rage and denial.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she blurted.

“It just happened for me,” Árdís whispered.

“Can you… link us?” Solveig whispered.

Both of the other women looked at her sharply.

“Not a bond. Just a tether,” she added. “Enough for him to use me as his link, until he’s recovered.”

Andromeda shook her head. “If you can’t hold him, then he will take you with him when he—"

“I will hold him,” she said fiercely. “I will hold him here, no matter what I must do.”

Andromeda exchanged a look with Árdís.

“She can do it,” Árdís whispered, reaching over and giving Solveig’s hand a squeeze. “Please try.”

THERE WERE some moments Solveig would remember forever.

She winged through the air, light flashing off the polar caps ahead of them as she threw a glance over her shoulder to tell Siv to hurry up, only to see an enormous chain lash towards her sister’s form. Wings tore. Siv screamed, and then she was falling, falling… plummeting toward the earth, and there was nothing Solveig could do to stop her, no matter how fast she swooped….

She stood alone on a rocky mountain, covered in blood and crawling toward her fallen mother even as Siv sobbed.

“Kill me,” her mother whispered, her breath rasping through her torn lungs as she tried to twist the knife in her own chest. “It’s the only way to… stop him.”

And she sobbed as her mother’s hands guided her own to the hilt of the knife.

“No, no, no, please no, please no….”

But menacing footsteps crunched through the snow behind her, and as she met her mother’s eyes one last time, she saw the truth in them.

The only way to protect her sister was to twist that knife and finish what her mother had started.

She sobbed on the floor of her bathing chambers as her mother’s body was burned. Siv was safe, and she would heal, but something inside Solveig would never recover. And she couldn’t let her father know, she couldn’t let anyone know how much it hurt, but then Aslaug was there, her little arms circling Solveig’s neck as they cried together, and this one time she wasn’t alone….

She hated being alone.

Not again, and not like this.

Because she knew she would remember this too, one day, and it almost felt like she was hovering over her body and watching herself cry.

The room was dark and warm.

She could barely remember being brought back to the Zilittu court, but someone must have carried them. Haakon, perhaps? She vaguely recalled snarling at him when he tried to lift her to her feet.

Hours slipped by. Maybe days.

And Marduk barely stirred.

“She’s losing him,” someone whispered, and Solveig shut them out, shut it all out as she curled her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder.

She held him in her arms and stroked his hair in the dark, humming an old lullaby under her breath. The candles burned low, and whoever was standing guard finally left, but Solveig didn’t falter.

“Please come back,” she whispered, biting her lip hard enough to stop the tears. “I don’t want to be alone again.”

She’d spent so many years thinking no one could ever hurt her again if she didn’t let them get close enough to her.

But it was a lie.

Because somehow, he’d slipped beneath her skin while she wasn’t looking, and now he was wedged deep into her heart.

He’d promised to chase her forever.

But she was the one who couldn’t surrender.

And it was going to kill him.

She closed her eyes and pictured them winging through the skies together, racing each other through fierce chasms. “Let me explore forever at your side. Please.”

In her mind’s eye, Marduk shot a glance back over his shoulder, his golden scales gleaming. He shrieked with delight when he saw her chasing him, and then he shot into the skies, his enormous wings thrusting hard.

Solveig chased him until she was almost close enough to catch his tail.

Down and down they went, circling each other in a languid spiral until they were practically body-to-body, soul-to-soul.

A tug snatched at her temples.

“Solveig?” came a whisper on a thought-thread.

“Mmmm.” She breathed in, digging her claws into his skin. At some stage during the night, she’d partially shifted, and now her teeth and claws were razor sharp. “Fly with me. Forever.”

She was back in the skies, soaring wingtip to wingtip with him. Still circling each other. Dew claws touched. A horrifically dangerous spiral, unless you were in perfect harmony with the other dreki.

“Solveig?” He was meshed with her, until their thoughts bled into each other.

She wanted to keep flying, but he was weighing her down, his shock and grief knotted around his throat like an anchor. Ishtar was gone, and there was a gaping hole inside him, and she wanted to patch that hole.

And then they were plummeting down, her wings feeling like lead as she slammed to the ground in his arms—

And suddenly she was lying there, naked against him, torn from the mental plane and breathless with the shock of landing.

They were in bed in the warm dark room, but it seemed like a different world.

Marduk blinked at her, one of his hands caressing her spine.

She barely dared breathe. Because she was no longer alone. He filled her from the inside out, and it was difficult to work out where she began and he ended.

“Did you just… mate with me?” he demanded.

“WHAT?” Solveig sat up in the bed, staring down at her claws in astonishment.

Marduk came up onto his elbows.

He was naked and they were… in their room at the Zilittu court. And Solveig looked like some monster-fused version of her mortal form. Her eyes were cat-slit and burned like amber flame, and he was fairly certain actual claws were digging into his arms.

He didn’t know who was more surprised.

“My, my.” His surprise bypassed his brain and blurted straight out of his mouth. “What big teeth you have, my love.”

Clapping a hand over her mouth, she clearly realized her teeth had lengthened into fangs. Faint golden light rippled over her skin, and then she was naked and mortal once more.

“You didn’t have to get rid of them,” he protested, brushing her hair off her shoulder. “I quite liked them.”

The overwhelming urge to take her almost choked him.

He could have died smiling in this moment.

She was his. Now and forever.

And years of thwarted frustration welled within him as his dreki rose. It was almost as though it sensed this too; the mating bond between them had been smothered by his link to his sister, but now it roared back into being like a wildfire racing through a hot, dry forest.

Outside, three enormous claps of thunder echoed through the glass.

The goddess approving this mating.

Marduk collapsed atop her, his mind reeling. He could feel her soul entwined with his, and it was… so peaceful. As if he’d spent a lifetime roaming the world restlessly, looking for the one piece of his soul that he knew deep down he was missing, and finally finding it here within her.

“What just happened?” Solveig rasped.

She looked so adorable, but he could feel the shock rampaging through her.

She hated surprises.

“You just accepted the mating bond. I could feel you lacing yourself around me, opening up to me, and then it just snapped into place.”

“Mating bond?” she blurted. “But you couldn’t feel me…. It’s not real. You’re not my soulmate.”

“We are. It was you. It was always you, but I couldn’t feel it.” He captured her face. “Ishtar knew. It finally makes sense. She was trying to tell me she’d somehow stolen you from me.”

Solveig scrambled off the bed, wrapping her arms around herself. “That makes no sense.”

And he saw the nervousness within her.

It’s not the bond she’s afraid of.

No, that was just the excuse.

Marduk rolled onto his knuckles, watching her back away from him. “It makes all the sense in the world. You were made to be mine.”

There was no surprise in her eyes.

Only defiance, as she tipped her chin up. “If I was yours, you would have known first. You would have known.”

And suddenly, he understood everything.

SOLVEIG’S HEART skipped a beat as Marduk slipped from the bed, his eyes locked on her like a prowling wolf scenting its prey.

“I finally figured it out,” he told her, stepping closer. “Why you hated me from the first second you saw me. You hated me the moment you saw my face. You hated me without even giving me a chance to speak.”

Again her breath caught. She didn’t want to do this. She’d made her peace with the concept. Marduk was the other half of her soul, but she would never be his. This bond between them was a tether. Nothing more. Nothing less.

“They say males always know first,” he said, and all the warmth drained from her face. “But this one time, it was you.”

His thrust went straight through her armor, and she was left defenseless and weaponless.

She took a step backward, but he came after her, his eyes dangerously intent.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Marduk said softly. “You knew the moment you saw me that I was made for you—”

“I didn’t—”

“You took one look at me and you were all twisted up in knots. Oh, you didn’t know what was happening to you. You only knew my presence made it all worse, and you didn’t like the way it felt. Raw. Vulnerable. Defenseless. And if you let me get close to you, then I was the one dreki who could ruin you.”

Her chest heaved, and her back met the wall. “She told you?”

The gold in his eyes turned molten as if he’d finally caught her out, and Solveig realized she’d made a mistake.

“If you’re referring to Árdís, then no. She told me to stop being an idiot and start using my mind.” Something softened in his face. “And I know you, Solveig. I know that every time I start getting close you push me away. What is the one thing a woman like you would actually flee? Because you’re not afraid of me, but you keep running, so there’s something about me that you’re running from.” His brow twitched. “The only thing you would fear would be if I was the one dreki destined to be your ultimate weakness. And so, you never gave me a chance to slip under your skin. You fought me and you hated me and you even tried to kill me—but in the end you couldn’t do it.”

“I….”

Surrender is the greatest power we have, Árdís had said.

But how did she force herself to give up control?

A fevered light came into his eyes as he pressed both hands on the wall on either side of her hips. The heat of him filled the inch between their bodies.

“How long have you known?” His voice roughened. “Truly known what it all meant?”

Solveig closed her eyes, the fight leaving her. “Árdís saw it first. She guessed and…. It was like all the pieces finally fit together. It finally made sense.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She looked up at him, her heart in her throat.

“Ah.” His thumbs softened on her jaw. “You’re afraid the bond isn’t real. No.” He was looking right through her soul, and maybe he could sense her doubt in his head, the way she could sense his sudden certainty. “You’re afraid that what I feel for you isn’t real.”

Solveig captured his wrists, resting her head against his forehead. She didn’t want to see the answer in his eyes.

There once was a princess, her heart so fierce,

That true love’s arrow, should never pierce….

But it had been pierced.

She had fallen for him like a girl seeing her fairy tale prince come to life. His smile had struck her mute. His laughter had cut through the cold front she presented. She had wrapped herself in her icy mantle, even as he teased her out of it. To see him with his arm around her sister’s shoulders had made her rage, but it wasn’t merely Aslaug she was trying to protect. No. He’d slipped within her guard. He’d made her think, just for the barest of seconds, that maybe there was a love out there for her too. The kind of love her parents had shared.

And she hadn’t understood any of it, until it had been too late.

She had found herself alone, choking on the realization that she was in foreign territory, with no way back. She had stood in her castle, listening to that wretched song work its way up the stairwell, her feet rooted to the floor, and her hand locked on the bannister as she froze.

And more words came.

“The prince is gone…. Fled…. Unlovable….”

Unlovable.

It was that last word that bled her dry.

If she was so unlovable, then she would rule the word. If she was so fierce, then she would name herself thusly. She would throttle the tremulous hopes that had breathed life into her chest, crushing them beneath her heel. So she had locked her heart away, arched a mocking brow at the world, and never, ever let her guard down again.

But now that was what he was asking for.

“That fucking song,” Marduk cursed under his breath. “Don’t. Don’t go back there.”

“It’s not the song,” she admitted. “It was never the song.”

He froze.

To be bound to another was to share your heart and soul with them. But she was still holding back from him, still locking herself away.

Be brave.

Her mother’s words, carved into her heart.

But bravery was not just a weapon to be used in battle.

She opened herself up to him, finally letting the link between them flourish. And there lay her heart, splayed bare for him to see everything.

“The first time I let myself feel, it was you. I was a broken mess, trying to hide the damage my mother’s loss had done. If I didn’t let anyone in, then it wouldn’t hurt again. I was cold, and I was ruthless, and nobody came near me. Nobody dared. Except for you. You pushed me. You scaled my walls. Every time you smiled at me, my heart gave a little squeeze, and I started to believe—despite the words I said—that you might be the one.”

Marduk sucked in a sharp breath. “And then I betrayed you.”

“You left me,” she whispered. “You said you saw me—the real me—but then they sang that song. ‘Her kiss, so cold. Her heart, so cruel; That she made of him a terrible fool….’ And I knew that you hadn’t seen me at all.”

He shook his head. “I did. I did see you. But we were both too young, both too broken, to be ready for this.”

She swallowed. Hard. “I’m not cold.”

“I know.” His voice roughened.

“I’m not cruel—”

“I know.”

“And I do have a heart, though I’ve never dared offer it again, and—"

He stole the words from her lips, and Solveig whimpered as he kissed her, hard and demanding. I know, that kiss said.

They broke apart, and Solveig forced himself to look at him.

“If I give you my heart, will you break it again?”

“Never.”

She bit her lip.

“Let me tell you a secret,” he said, swinging her up into his arms and turning back to the bed. “If I had your heart, Solveig, then I would guard it like a dreki with his hoard.” He laid her back on the bed, his eyes glittering as he lowered himself over her. “I would ruin anyone who sought to harm it. I would bring myself to my knees for the chance to win it. I’ve never had a treasure to protect. I’ve never wished for anything to cherish. But if you gave me your heart, then I would hoard it for the rest of my days.”

Solveig’s hand brushed against his chest. She couldn’t say it.

But he must have sensed the truth within her.

Marduk swooped down, capturing her mouth with a sweet kiss. “Mine,” he said fiercely, and this time she knew he wasn’t talking about claiming anything.

But the heart she barely dared offer.

SIRIUS SLOWLY MOUNTED the steps to the courtyard garden, after spending an hour arguing with the Zilittu king. He’d finally broken away, insisting he needed to speak to his king, before he could come to blows with Draco about precisely which clan was going to own the emerald dagger with Queen Amadea’s soul trapped within it.

Maybe he should have come earlier.

Rurik looked like he’d slid down the wall, staring with unseeing eyes at the garden and despite himself, Sirius couldn’t help swallowing the bitter pill of empathy.

All those years he’d spent hating this bastard, and yet he wouldn’t trade places with him right now for all the crowns in the world.

To find one’s true mate was both a blessing and a curse. It was a gift beyond measure, a means of happiness Sirius had never expected to find.

But to wind yourself so closely around another’s soul meant that losing your mate was more than a shocking loss. It was a slow death spiral, rarely avoided. Soulmates who lost the other half of them rarely lasted more than a year.

“Rurik,” he murmured.

There was no response.

“Rurik. Here.” Sirius reached out his arm, offering his hand. “Let me help you stand.”

Rurik lifted his blank eyes toward Sirius’s face. “It feels like my heart’s been torn from my chest. I can’t think. I can’t… breathe. She’s gone. She’s gone, and there’s a hole within me that can’t be filled.”

Rurik wasn’t going to accept his grasp. He probably wasn’t even going to stand.

Sirius hauled him to his feet. “Aye. Freyja’s been kidnapped. But she’s not dead yet. Can you feel her at all?”

Rurik shook his head, his weight leaning on Sirius’s shoulder. Then he paused. “There’s… something there. Maybe the bond’s not completely shattered, but it’s so faint, I might as well be reaching for the stars. I don’t even know if it exists.”

“It exists.” He squeezed the king’s hand. “And as long as it exists, there’s still a chance. You need to sit down with Draco and Harald and—"

“I don’t think I can be king right now,” Rurik whispered.

A sliver of cold worked its way down Sirius’s spine. “Don’t speak like that.”

“We need strength. We need focus. Not just to protect the court, but to start this war.”

“And we have it,” Sirius argued.

Something came over the king’s face. “A weakened dreki king is a court at the mercy of any who seek to take it.” Their eyes met. “I can’t hold this court together. Not right now. Not like this. Árdís is with child. Marduk’s allegiances are shifting.” Rurik tipped his chin up. “You’re the only one left with the strength to weld us together.”

“Don’t you fucking dare—”

“I hereby renounce my—”

Sirius clapped a hand over his cousin’s mouth and shoved him against the wall. Once upon a time, he’d yearned for this. He’d longed for the power and hungered to be the one all dreki feared.

And then Malin had stormed into his life and turned everything on its head.

But she wasn’t the sole catalyst for his change of heart.

Rurik could have had him executed for the death of his father, King Reynar. He could have exiled the pair of them. Sirius had heard the whispers around court—some of the Zini had argued for it. They wanted no part of him and the shadow of the previous queen’s reign.

But he hadn’t.

He’d pardoned Sirius. He’d offered Sirius a chance he’d never had before, and in that moment, Sirius had realized power wasn’t the reward he’d yearned for.

Acceptance was. The chance to be a part of something that was so much bigger than he was.

And even if Marduk got on his nerves and Árdís drove him crazy in the council chambers, there was the growing feeling this was the sense of family that had always been missing.

Nothing was going to take that away from him. Not now. Not ever. Even if he had to storm Álfheimr itself.

Or hold Rurik together with his bare hands.

“My apologies for laying my hands on the king,” he hissed, “but if you complete that sentence, I’m going to have to hit you. Hard. You are not stepping down. You are not going to crawl off into some mountain somewhere and hibernate again. We need you.”

“I can’t—”

He had two fistfuls of Rurik’s shirt. “Yes. You. Can. You want to play these games? Fine. Then name me regent. You focus on getting your wife back while I hold your court together. But the second the queen is back, you are going to sit your ass on that cursed throne and you are going to stay there. And I will go back to glaring moodily at everyone who dares threaten you.”

There was a defeated look in Rurik’s eyes that nearly broke him. “If we get her back.”

“I know how you feel right now.” When Malin had been attacked during the court uprising, his heart had been in his throat the whole time, and the very idea that maybe he’d be too slow next time kept him awake at night. “But your court needs you to hold yourself together. You promised Freyja you would build something special together. You gave her your oath. And she might not be here on this world right now, but she’ll expect you to uphold that oath. No matter what.”

Rurik collapsed against him with a gasp, gripping his wrists. But he finally nodded. “I need to get her back. Promise me we’ll get her back.”

Sirius couldn’t look him in the eye.

Because dreki couldn’t lie.

And he didn’t dare give that promise, in case his magic twisted the words and he cost Rurik the chance to ever hold his wife again.

“If I need to break apart Álfheimr piece by piece, then I will do so,” he compromised.

“Without Ishtar….” Rurik’s voice trailed off to a whisper. “Or the key….”

Without Ishtar, there was no means to open the gates from this side.

“As I said, we need to sit down with Harald and Draco. Árdís doesn’t have the training to open the gate. But the Zilittu do. We have the key. And Andromeda is the only one with the power to maybe do it. We need her. We need the Zilittu.”

Rurik breathed out a bitter laugh, but his spine was slowly stiffening, a bit of his old self coming into his eyes. “The only problem is… will Andromeda risk it?”

30

“The gates are closed, and Ishtar is gone,” Draco said. “To even speak of trying to open them again…. I know what you have lost, but are you out of your mind? We risk war. And this is not like the wars of the past. Now each dreki court stands alone, and who knows what sort of army the King of Álfheimr commands, or how organized they are?”

It was playing out almost exactly as Solveig had predicted.

Marduk leaned forward, a dangerous edge in his eyes. “They have my sister, and with her, the ability to open the gates from their side. War is coming, whether we will it or not.”

“And when it comes, we will be ready,” Draco grated out. “Our mists protect us.”

“So you will hide in this castle and let them burn the world until it comes time for them to storm the Zilittu court?” Sirius sneered.

Solveig watched the byplay from beneath her lashes. With every word, the body language between the three males was growing more and more dominant. It was the first time she’d ever seen Marduk and Sirius working together.

“And what do you propose?” Draco snarled.

“Simple.” Sirius steepled his fingers together. “Your Chaos-wielders work together. We’ve seen what they can do when they’re linked. Maybe they’re not Ishtar, but together, using the diminished power of the key, they might be able to open the portal long enough for a small party of dreki to slip into Álfheimr. We rescue Freyja and Ishtar, and return before they’re aware we’re even there. They’ll never expect it. And if we rescue Ishtar, then they’re trapped forever.”

“Except,” Draco said coldly, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, “that even if my Chaos-wielders had the strength to do what you ask, the portal must remain open long enough for you to get into Álfheimr, rescue the two females, and then return. Time moves differently in Álfheimr. We can’t open the portal twice in a row. We can probably barely hold it long enough for your party to cross worlds. And the chances of the portal remaining undiscovered are slim.”

“Then send us through,” Marduk countered. “Ishtar can bring us back.”

“No,” Draco said. “It’s too great a risk.”

“Please,” Rurik said, and Solveig could see how much it cost him to plead.

The room fell silent.

Rurik looked like he hadn’t slept a wink since Freyja had vanished. Draco hesitated to reply, as if even he felt some sympathy.

Andromeda pushed to her feet and crossed to Rurik’s side. “I am not Ishtar, born to Chaos, but what small skills I have are yours. Your wife saved my life, and for that I owe her a debt—”

“Andromeda.” Draco sat up sharply.

“I have heard your will,” she told him, shooting a cool look over her shoulder. “But your voice is not mine. And I will pay my debts.”

The Zilittu king served her a hot glare from beneath his eyelashes. “As much as I respect my queen’s opinion, she does not speak for my entire court.”

“Only for herself,” Andromeda countered. “And I have spoken.”

The timing was right to add her voice. Solveig could sense the mood of the room shifting. “You wish to rejoin the dreki world? Then this is the cost of bringing the Zilittu into the open.”

His anger turned in her direction, but Solveig merely arched a brow. “And if you choose not to walk this path, then there are… others with Chaos-wielders of their own whom we can approach.”

Like your brother.

There’d been a great uproar when they returned to find that Scorpius—previously locked in chains down in the dungeons—had escaped.

She might as well have said it out loud. Draco shoved to his feet. “You dare? I am the recognized king of the Zilittu. My brother is in exile.”

A tricky situation. “Is your brother the only dreki warlord in the northern realms who has Chaos-wielders at his side?”

“Please.” Rurik poured everything he had into that one word.

Solveig tipped her head toward Draco. “Sometimes a king must act instead of waiting for the enemy to bring the war to him. Freyja is a blow that strikes deep into the heart of the Zini court, but Ishtar is another matter entirely. She was manipulated into opening the gates once. This time, she may unwittingly bring an entire horde of armored alfar with her.”

“We’re not ready for that.” Marduk finally spoke up. “I’ve travelled this world. Every court of dreki stands alone. Some of us have alliances. Some of us share enmities. And while one dreki is worth, what… ten elves? They would ride as a host, and each court by itself would be outnumbered. If we wait, then we will be forced to react. We will be unprepared. We cannot afford to react.”

Draco stared at her flatly.

Her blood stared to pound. “We attack first. We strike them where it hurts. The last time we went to war, we captured their queen—well, now they have one of ours. But we have Tyndyr. He may only be the king’s bastard son, but he is still valuable.”

“If you give me some time,” Árdís said. “I may be able to track down some old friends of Father’s who were actually involved in the original kidnapping attempt upon the alfar queen. They will have information on the lands we shall find and the layout of the castle.”

“The Sadu stand with the Zini,” Solveig said.

The breath exploded out of Rurik. “Thank you.”

Andromeda squeezed his shoulder. “There are some things worth fighting for. Love is one of them.”

Draco’s hooded eyes settled on his queen as if her words had been a dagger meant for his heart.

All eyes turned toward him.

“The Zilittu stand with their cousins, the Zini,” he finally said. “On one condition.”

“Name it,” Rurik said.

“My brother’s head,” Draco purred. “On a spike.”

Andromeda turned ashen.

Interesting, Solveig noted.

THEY LANDED in a world made of snow.

Freyja cried out as she fell forward, and her left wrist jarred. The shock of such cold sent needles of sharp pain through her fingers, and she jerked her hands back.

Where the hell were they? What had that bastard done to them? Where had he sent them?

She had the horrible feeling she knew that answer to that last question.

Don’t think it. Don’t think it.

You came through once. You can get back to him.

But there’d been that sucking feeling, as if the world around her had turned her inside out and then spat her out into a world that was so alien, it almost stole the breath from her lungs.

She wanted to vomit.

Worse, she wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. There was an emptiness within her that ate at her chest like a hungry wolf.

He was gone.

Rurik was gone.

And with him, everything she had ever known.

Ishtar cried out, scrambling to her feet and staggering into a deep snowdrift. It was enough to shock Freyja out of her grief.

“Are you all right?” she asked her sister-in-law, helping her to her feet.

Blood dripped from Ishtar’s nose. She brushed at it, her eyes widening in horror when she saw the smear of vermillion across the back of her hand.

“Does your head ache?” Freyja asked gently.

Ishtar shook her head violently, but she was seemingly transfixed by the blood.

Freyja bent and tore a scrap of linen from her petticoats. “Here,” she said, gently dabbing the blood away.

“I’m bleeding.” Ishtar whispered. “Is it stopping?”

Freyja checked and gave a sigh of relief. “Much better.” She handed the bloody rag over. “But keep this pressed against your nose, and tilt your head back.”Then she turned to survey the scenery.

Enormous jagged mountains reared over them, and the world was such a blinding white that she squinted. Shaggy fir trees wore a mantle of snow, and the forests were strangely quiet.

“There are no birds,” she whispered. “Nothing moves in the forest.”

An eerie effect.

The facts were realigning themselves: She was no longer on her world. Her bond to Rurik—once something she’d considered forged in iron—was gone, or smothered so deeply she could barely feel it.

And this was the land of the alfar.

Though there was nothing moving in the forests right now, they’d be out there. Somewhere.

Fine. There was no point crying over spilt milk. It was what it was.

“You brought us here,” she said, returning her attention to Ishtar. “Do you think you can take us back?”

The young woman’s nose was still bleeding. Freyja took mercy on her and helped her sit on a nearby log.

“My head hurts,” Ishtar replied, her lower lip shivering.

It was cold, and the wind pricked through her shawl, but the temperature hadn’t bothered her too much. She pressed a hand to her sister-in-law’s temples, then jerked her hand back in surprise. “You’re burning up.”

Was this some residual effect of the portal? An overuse of Chaos magic?

“He’s gone,” Ishtar said, staring glassy eyed at the world around her. “Marduk’s gone. I’m so tired.”

And speaking out loud when she always preferred a mental connection. That alone was sign of Ishtar’s exhaustion.

Freyja caught her hope behind her teeth. To create a portal between worlds was a feat of strength she couldn’t even imagine. There was no way that Ishtar could resurrect such a feat anytime soon.

Shelter.

Warmth.

Food and drink.

Ishtar could rest, and maybe when she was feeling better, they could return.

“Come on,” she said. “We have to get moving. If this is the portal in Álfheimr then it stands to reason that it would either be patrolled or watched. We need to—"

Awooo!

A howl echoed to her left.

Stillness slid down her spine like a trickle of ice water. Her breath caught.

Awooo!

To the right.

“Mother of Christ,” she whispered, crossing herself out of old habit.

A sleek white shape darted through the trees nearly fifty feet away.

“Get up!” Freyja hauled Ishtar to her feet. “Can you run?”

Ishtar tried.

Freyja grabbed her skirts and slogged through the snow. It was ankle deep. She managed three steps before she realized the howls behind her were very clearly pushing them in one direction.

She’d gathered enough sheep in her time to know how to push them where she wanted them.

A flash of white loped along beside them, keeping pace.

Ishtar gasped and panted, tripping clumsily through the snow. Freyja caught her arm as she nearly fell and the bloody linen dropped into the snow.

They’d never outrun them.

Not like this.

“Stop!” She pressed her back to Ishtar’s as three enormous white wolves stalked them through the trees.

Or no, not wolves.

Wolfish, perhaps.

Snowy-white, their eyes glowing green, and their lips curling back from their enormous teeth, they looked like they’d just found their next meal.

“Stay behind me,” she told Ishtar, shoving her sister-in-law behind her. She’d been working with her magic ever since she married Rurik, and even though their magics were not one and the same, she was far more powerful than she’d been when she met him—though her powers occasionally remained uncontrollable.

The creatures prowled toward them.

Freyja’s chest rose and fell.

“Be ready to run,” she whispered.

“We can’t run,” Ishtar replied. “Not from this. This was fated in the stars.”

Freyja shot her a sharp look. “Remember what we said about seeing the future? Sometimes it is not reassuring.” She paused. “Will I ever see him again?”

“Who?”

“Rurik.”

“You will see him,” Ishtar started to explain, but it felt as though she was trying to consider how best to say it.

I will see him.

That had to be enough.

“Fine.” She picked up a heavy limb that had broken from one of the trees, and stepped toward the lead wolf. “Stay back!”

Horns shattered the stillness of the air.

Damn it. Her heart plummeted in her chest, but the creatures darted away.

Elves.

“This way!” she cried, turning to the left.

An arrow landed in front of them.

Freyja skidded to a halt, and Ishtar slammed into her. The thick snow and her skirts seemed to be hampering her, and while there was an air of grace to her, Ishtar always moved through the world as though unaware of it.

Freyja spun around to face their attackers.

Ishtar leaned against her heavily. Her glazed eyes were wide, but Freyja knew she was trying not to panic.

No portals.

No running.

Just her and her magic.

Horses surged out of the trees.

The lead rider reined his horse in hard, his smile fading. He dragged his helmet from his head, revealing an extraordinarily handsome face carved of chiseled lines. Half of his head was shaved, a shock of silvery blond hair spilling over his right temple and down past his shoulder like a cloak of silk.

And then she started assimilating the rest of his features. Skin the color of warmed honey. Sharp points to the tips of his ears, which were embellished with little gold caps. Someone had painted little gold dots across his brow, with a straight line bisecting his lower lip. Some form of ring pierced his nose, with several small chains running across his cheek and into his hair. Not human, it all said.

But the biggest shock occurred when she met his eyes.

One of them was blue. The other green.

She had never seen those eyes outside of a mirror. Or no… Tyndyr had them too.

What did that mean?

“Dja la alla llang?” he asked.

The rest of his warriors circled the pair of them, light gleaming on their burnished armor. Freyja held her hands out, calling her magic to life. It felt like drawing breath for the first time in her life. The land came alive beneath her feet. Power gushed into her like a dam had burst. “Stay back!”

The leader’s eyes flared slightly wide. “Ah, you are from Midgard,” he said in a halting manner. “Who are you?”

Freyja stared at him with her hands by her sides and lightning dancing from her fingertips. A single move and she was going to fry him. “I am Freyja of the Zini court.”

“A dreki queen,” laughed one of the elves in considerably better Norse. “Let’s string her up and listen to her scream.”

But the lead rider wasn’t laughing. He swung down from his horse and strode toward her, tugging his gloves from his hands.

Freyja swallowed hard, even as she summoned every last vestige of power. It swelled through her like a storm brewing. Too much to hold. So much that when she looked in shock at her hands, she found them glowing.

What was this place? Why did it affect her magic so strongly?

Laughter choked off. Every single guard fell quiet.

“Who are you?” the leader demanded, and this time there was menace in his voice as he grabbed her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. “And I’ll have the truth now.”

“It is the truth!” She shoved at his chest, feeling electricity shock through her palms. He staggered backward and nearly landed on his backside in the snow, though she hadn’t physically pushed him that hard. “I am Freyja Helgasdottir of the Zini clan. I am….” The words choked a little on her tongue, for what cause did a simple farmer’s daughter have to speak them? “I am the queen of the Zini clan by right of marriage, and if you dare lay your hands on me again, my mate will tear you limb from limb.”

“He won’t have a chance,” leered one of the guards.

The stranger cut him off with a backward wave, but he stared at her face. “Helgasdottir? Helga?”

The way he said the word was strange.

Elega….

A little frisson of unease settled over her heart like the first layer of frost on the ground. People did not react to her mother’s name like that. And it was a common name in her country. Nothing that should have caught his attention.

It was too late to prevaricate. “Y-yes.”

They stared at each other.

“That silky rotten liar,” he whispered. “This was what she was hiding….”

The shock of it began to overwhelm. Freyja tried to hold herself together the best way she knew how: with anger. “Who are you?”

A horse started toward her, its bearer wearing an ugly scowl. “How dare you address our prince like that you worthless—”

“Silence, Elendil.” The prince never took his eyes off her. “Your mother…. She was tall and blonde, with the same eyes as you?”

Tall and blonde, yes, but…. “No, her eyes were both blue. So blue they looked like an alpine lake.”

“And is she still alive?”

What was going on? Why was he so interested in her mother? “No.” It was an old hurt, but mere mention of it stirred hot coals of sadness to life within her chest. “No, she passed when I was younger. A wasting sickness. Why? Why do you wish to know of my mother?”

The stranger closed his eyes but briefly. “The Languish. Ah, gods.” He breathed the word out before his lashes fluttered and she was once more pierced by that penetrating gaze. “I ask, because you look just like her.”

Freyja gasped as he turned toward his men.

Wait! He’d known her mother?

How?

“Bring a pair of spare horses,” he called. “We return with them to the castle.”

“Wait!” No, this wasn’t happening. She had to return to Rurik. Her home. Her family. “How did you know my mother?”

“Is the circle still open, my prince?” One of his men called.

The stranger gave the small glade a sleepy-eyed look. “Locked again, I think. But we have hope. What has been opened once can be opened again—"

“The gates are shut,” she told him fiercely. “You’ll never get them open again. You’ll never wage your war. How did you know my mother?”

“Ah, you’ve run afoul of my dearest cousin”—he spat the word—“Tyndyr. How fortunate for you that you seem to have landed in my lap and not one of his little lackeys’. I promise you that—” He finally seemed to notice Ishtar, and his eyes widened slightly. “My… lady.”

The two of them stared at each other.

Ishtar cocked her head on an angle, as if examining him. “You look different to how I expected,” she said.

The stranger shared a sharp look with his second-in-command.

“Keep your hands off them,” he snapped to his men. “We’ll take them to see the king. And if any of you dares breathe a word of this when we return to the castle, I will have your tongues. This passes no one’s lips, do you understand?”

Several of his warriors exchanged glances, but two of them swung down from their saddles, and a pair of horses were brought forward.

“Here,” one of the warriors said, offering Ishtar the reins.

“She doesn’t know how to ride,” Freyja told him. She looked for the leader. “We’re not going anywhere. Not without you answering some of my questions! Who are you? What do you intend to do with us?”

“I am Caelum,” the stranger said, offering Ishtar a hand in order to haul her into the saddle in front of him. “Crown Prince of Álfheimr. And I think my father, the king, is going to be very interested in your story, Freyja Elegasdottir. You want to know how I know your mother? Then you may ask him.”

CHAPTER 31

“We need to sit down with your father and work out how best to get word to his allies,” Marduk told Solveig, three days after the fight at World’s End. “Árdís and Sirius are going to take turns watching over Rurik.”

Solveig froze as she sat polishing her dagger. She’d given him time to be with his family, but she’d never expected him to return to her like this. “You can go south. I will stay here and—”

“Solveig. We said we’d do this.”

She put the dagger down and tossed the whetstone aside, wiping her hands clean on a rag. “I need to see if Andromeda has had any luck in her efforts to create a smaller portal between two places—"

“You’re not even going to talk about it?” He spread his arms wide.

What was the point? “I can’t go home. I made an oath to the goddess to kill you, remember?”

“I remember. I just don’t know if that’s the whole truth of the matter.” Marduk’s lashes obscured his eyes. “Tell me a secret.”

Solveig froze. “What?”

Now?

“Tell me the exact words you swore to the goddess.”

“I swore to kill you!”

“That was exactly what you said?” Intensity blazed to life in his eyes as he started toward her.

If he got his hands on her, then this was all over.

“No. I don’t know.” She reared back, trying to remember that moment. The hall. Her entire court standing there as her father demanded to know why her mate had left her on their mating night. The burn of humiliation in her chest. And the words. Imprinted on her heart. On her soul. Engraved now, with fear. "The prince has played recklessly with my fate," she whispered. "It shall not be allowed to stand. I shall return with Marduk's heart—or not at all."

In the distance thunder rumbled.

The goddess, reminding her that her oath hadn’t been fulfilled.

Both of them looked in that direction.

“Return with my heart….” He rubbed his thumb across his mouth.

“I even had a pretty little box made to put it in. I’m not going home,” she told him stubbornly. “I am trying to protect your life.”

“You did protect my life.” There was something in his eyes that she couldn’t identify. “You mated with me.”

And in so doing, destroyed any hope she had of ever returning to her family.

“And now I can never return. But I’ll pay that price. It’s the cost of my pride, and my feelings for you… are stronger than pride.” She had to get out of here. Solveig ripped the door open.

“Stop being a coward,” he told her fiercely, shoving his arm in front of her and slamming the door closed. “Stay here and fight.”

Solveig spun around. “A coward?”

Never in her life had anyone ever accused her of such a thing.

“Yes,” he growled, lowering his face to hers. “A coward. You’ll face an entire army of elves by yourself, but you won’t face me—”

“I’ve faced you more times than—”

“Guarded. Locked away. Barely daring to let me know a hint of your heart,” he shot back. “Face me, Solveig. No weapons. No shields. No lies. Just you—and the truth in your heart.”

The words slammed into her so hard she could barely breathe.

What did he mean?

A finger slid beneath her chin, forcing her to lift her head. “Look at me.”

Solveig glared at him defiantly.

“So stubborn. Always ready to fight me.” His breath skimmed her lips, and her pulse kicked in her throat. “Why don’t we try something else?”

“Like what?”

His fingertips softened on her cheeks and his thumbs came to rest on her chin. She couldn’t read the look in his eyes; a certain intensity she’d never seen Marduk wear before. “Why don’t we lay down our weapons and try peace?”

Peace?

She took an unsteady breath.

“Peace,” she whispered. “What does that even look like?”

His thumbs grew soft, stroking along her jaw, even as his eyes became warm enough to burn. “A little like this, I imagine.”

And then he kissed her.

IT WAS a kiss to capture her heart. Her soul.

Marduk kissed her the way she needed to be kissed—as if they were two souls striving to contain the same space. One strike of the match igniting the entire hungry bonfire. He kissed her as if she was everything to him. As if he’d spent his entire life just begging for this moment, and he needed to make it last.

Her hungry mouth and hands demanded more.

And he gave it gladly, his hands rough on her skin as he pushed her back against the wall and took what they both wanted.

Teeth skimming down her throat, his mouth capturing her delicate skin and suckling there. Just a tease really. A question. And she stilled as if she heard it, and then arched her head back in answer.

Surrender.

Yes. A thrill lit through him, every possessive urge within him demanding that he mark her. He bit her. Hard. Even as his fingers found her nipple through the soft fabric of her nightgown, and pinched.

“Marduk.” A cry tore from her throat, and then she was wildfire in his hands.

He’d never heard her sound like that. Soft and breathy and desperate. Hands slid under his shirt, her nails digging into the soft muscle of his shoulders.

Oh, she liked that.

The urge to be inside her pounded through his brain.

“Hold on, my love.” Gritting his teeth, he hauled her legs up around her waist and strode toward the bed.

His cock rode between her thighs, and even with her nightgown between them, he could feel how wet she was getting.

Solveig’s back hit the mattress, and Marduk followed her down, pressing one knee between her thighs. Instantly, she curled up, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, but he was ready for her.

Capturing one wrist, he forced it onto the mattress beside her head. And then the other.

A smile took him by surprise as he kissed her furious lips. “You have all the control. You always have had. Let me make love to you, Solveig.”

I shall return with Marduk's heart—or not at all.

He finally, finally had the answer to Harald’s challenge.

He just had to convince her it was worth the risk.

Dangerous eyes explored his face. And then the breath left her, as she slid a hand up the back of his neck. “Then do it. Make love to me. And don’t ever stop.”

THE SHOCK of her mouth took him by surprise.

Not because he’d always been the one to kiss her first—but because there was a sweetness to the caress that slipped its hooks into him more surely than any trick she’d ever played. She kissed him as if she wanted to inhale him. She kissed him as if the sun rose and set in his smile. She kissed him as though she was intent upon claiming him, heart and soul.

This.

Rolling onto his back, he skimmed rough palms up her spine as she straddled him, capturing her closely against him.

He’d had her before, but every time they’d lain together it been war. And though Solveig bit his lip as if to remind him that she was no placid maid for him to lay back on the mattress, this felt entirely different.

She wasn’t fighting him anymore.

That thought alone almost made him come. Suddenly, it wasn’t enough to have his hands sliding over her nightgown. He wanted her naked. Growling deep in his throat, he tore at her buttons, his teeth skating down her throat as she arched into him. It ground the slick skin between her thighs against him.

Bare skin.

Their eyes met.

“Planning a little seduction?” he mused, rasping one thumbnail over the back of her thigh, right beneath the curve of her ass.

She shivered. Ticklish, but also feeling it elsewhere.

“Maybe.” A hand slid up his throat, and then she was kissing him again. Teeth sinking into his lower lip. Tongue sliding over his with heated urgency.

Hauling her against him, he closed his mouth over her nipple. Solveig ground against him, until the pressure against his erection almost broke him.

Every inch of her was sleek steel, and her breasts were but the barest of handfuls. Perfect, he thought, as he rolled her and drove her back into the mattress.

He kissed his way down her abdomen, unable to tear his gaze from her face. Solveig arched her spine, her hips locking around his thighs with a shudder, as his mouth grew hotter, more daring. He made a rough sound under his breath and captured her ass in his hands, splaying her wide.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

Solveig bit her lip, hauling a pillow behind her head.

“Look at me,” he growled, as he nuzzled into the thatch of hair between her thighs.

Obsidian eyes locked upon him and he felt the shock of connection to the core. And then he bent his head to worship her.

He would never get enough of this.

The taste of her drove him wild, but her responses…. The sound of her breathless cry as her body tensed and then finally exploded, was perfection. He could listen to her scream his name forever.

“Look at me,” he demanded, capturing a fistful of her hair, as he slid into the welcome of her arms and thighs.

Their eyes met and he kissed her again, chasing after that elusive spirit that beat within her heart. He could sense the yearning in her. Sense the flickering brush of her mind against his.

“Open for me,” he whispered, his teeth grazing her throat, and though her thighs parted wider, welcoming him inside her, he knew she had deliberately misinterpreted him.

“Gods, you feel so perfect.” He threw the thoughts at her, determined to let her know how he felt.

There.

Her eyes widened, just slightly, and Marduk thrust inside her, swallowed by her warm, wet heat. Her thighs clamped around his hips, and she bit her lip and threw her head back. Silent agony. Rapturous pleasure. He could feel it all shuddering through her, even as she denied him her voice.

“You were made for me, Solveig.” He shuddered and buried his face against her throat. A sense of stillness ran through her, and he knew she heard him. “And I will thank the goddess every day for blessing me with you.”

His teeth grazed her throat, and he bit deep into the slope of muscle that gilded her shoulder as he came. Marking her. Fusing some part of her with himself.

Marduk collapsed atop her, his hands skimming up her arms as she hugged him close. She hadn’t said a word, but the way her hand slid up his spine and caressed his nape was strangely proprietary.

There was nothing but silence.

The silence of surrender.

He drew back and stared into her eyes, breathing hard. Her nightgown was wrapped around her waist, the buttons agape. He withdrew with a gush of slick seed, and then drew her back into his arms, so her back was nestled against his chest.

“Talk to me,” he insisted, kissing the back of her neck. “Let’s try this new thing.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

Marduk closed his eyes, wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled into her neck. “Everything.”

MORNING DAWNED, bringing with it a female dreki who looked utterly furious with the world.

Marduk brought her breakfast, ignoring the scowl she sent in his direction.

“Good morning, my love.”

“Why are you always so cheerful so early?” She dragged the blankets over her head and hid beneath them as if she took personal affront to his good humor.

He tugged them down and held a mug of tea in front of her as a peace offering. “Because I just spent last night dreaming the most delicious dreams, only to wake up to find they weren’t dreams after all.”

“Ugh.” She hauled herself up into a sitting position, glaring into her mug as if it held the answer to all her questions.

Marduk eased onto the bedroll behind her, kissing her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“I made you scream with ecstasy nearly ten times last night. And you look like your favorite uncle just died.” He let his hand come to rest on her waist, as he buried his face in her hair and breathed in the scent of her skin. He could smell his own scent all over her, and it made his dreki want to purr with pleasure.

“I can’t go home,” she told him. “I made that foolish vow—”

“You would return with my heart, or not at all?”

She hadn’t wanted to talk about it last night, though he knew he’d planted the seeds within her.

“There are always loopholes in the pledges we make to our gods,” he told her. “Take me with you when you return to your father’s court. You didn’t pledge that you would bring my heart in a bloody box—you just said you would bring my heart. And even if it is contained within my chest, does that not meet the precise sentiment of those words?”

Solveig choked on her tea. “You’re gambling rather recklessly. If the Goddess does not accept, then I’m the one who is going to suffer the consequences.”

He tugged on a sheaf of her silken hair, rubbing it between thumb and forefinger. He’d never been given to faith, and yet he’d seen the effect that mating had held over his brother and sister. “I have a feeling the goddess will approve.”

“A feeling?”

“Yes. A feeling,” he said, saving the tea mug before she could slosh it everywhere in her agitation. “Trust me.”

A shudder ran through her. “On your head, so be it. I will take you with me and pray she accepts your heart where it lies.”

Marduk rested his forehead against hers. You foolish female. The goddess demanded you return with my heart and you have it. You’ve always had it.

He wanted to tell her in that moment—to spare her the worry—but a part of him suspected she needed time to grow used to the idea.

And a plan formed.

A wild, reckless plan.

She’d told him once that she actually liked romance, and what was better than a grand sweeping gesture?

Árdís had told him the only way to fix the song was to rewrite it. Well, so be it. He could never change the past, but maybe he could create a new song, just for her.

THE GODDESS DID NOT STRIKE her down for entering the court.

The pit in Solveig’s stomach churned as they faced the doors to her father’s throne room.

“Relax,” Marduk whispered, sliding his fingers between hers. “You’re home. We’re home.”

This was where she had made her pledge.

This was where it had all gone wrong.

Solveig turned to him. “What if—”

He captured her face and kissed her. “No more ‘what if’s’. Be brave. Trust me. You are mine now, and She will not take you from me.”

“Absolutely unbelievable,” she breathed. “Your dreki pride thinks you can defy a goddess.”

He merely smiled.

Solveig pushed away and straightened her shoulders. So be it.

But in her heart of hearts, she wanted to be free of this curse so badly it ached. She’d made her choice. She wanted him more than anything, and if that meant never coming home then… she would pay that price.

But he’d insisted.

“This is where you belong,” Marduk told her, striding forward to push the doors open. “You’re mine, Solveig, and I won’t let you go, but I don’t intend to see you suffer. Now let’s go greet your father. I promised I’d bring you back to him, and I’m trying not to break my promises anymore.”

“It’s always all about you,” she grumbled.

There was that smile—the bane of her existence. Her heart fluttered, even as he winked. “Of course.”

Marduk swept the throne room doors open and offered her his arm.

Her entire court stared back at her. Her father sat on his throne, flanked by both Aslaug and Siv. They almost looked like they’d been expecting her, clad in fine raiment. Indeed, the entire court seemed to be swathed in velvet and silk and dozens of diamonds.

It stalled her nerves.

Solveig set one hand to the hilt of her sword as she strode inside, her other hand tucked in Marduk’s elbow. “What is going on here? Did we interrupt preparations for a ball?”

Why would they be celebrating?

Or what?

The gates to Álfheimr were shut, but the cost had been astronomical, and with a brewing war sitting on the horizon like a rumble of dark clouds, this was hardly the time for dancing.

“Who knows?” Marduk led her forward. “Your father is a very wily dreki. Maybe he’s got one last trick up his sleeve.”

He sounded smooth and unhurried.

The golden prince in all his glory.

But she knew him.

“Did you do something?” The muscle in his jaw twitched at her words. “You did, didn’t you? What is this?”

Marduk swept her beneath his arm and then presented her to her father with a flourish. If she hadn’t spent her entire life training with a rapier, she might have tripped over her boots.

“I bring her back to you. As promised,” Marduk said, bowing his head respectfully to her father.

And then he pushed her in the back.

Solveig’s feet kept moving, carrying her onto the dais, and she was incredibly grateful they did. But she paused there, her heart on edge, listening for any hint of rumbling disapproval in the distance.

It did not come.

“Father.” She swallowed the tight knot in her throat. Hundreds of eyes watched, and she stiffened her shoulders.

Later. She could definitely kill him later.

“Daughter.” There was a glint of humor in her father’s eyes. “Welcome home.”

A hard weight slammed into her from the side. Siv. And then Aslaug was there, crushing them both together. Silk surrounded her and the smell of lilac, a giggle echoing in her ear. She wanted to drown in their arms.

It felt like nothing had changed.

It felt like everything had changed.

Heat sheened across her vision, but she was not going to cry in front of her court.

“Goddess’s breath, give me room to breathe,” she muttered as Aslaug squealed and jumped up and down. “You’re so undignified.”

Aslaug saw her eyes and poked her tongue out. “You stole my prince, so don’t you dare lecture me. I can be undignified if I wish.”

Hot shame flooded through her. “I never—”

“Oh, I know. He was never meant for me.” She gave Solveig a fierce squeeze. “And I’m glad he chose you. I’m glad he loves you. You needed him more than I ever did.”

Harald rose to his feet, the smile sliding from his face. “The last time you were in these halls, you made a promise to the goddess. You would return with Prince Marduk’s heart, or not at all.”

The room fell silent.

Even Aslaug clapped her hands over her mouth, as if she was trying to capture any words that might spill free.

“Father.” Solveig eased out a shaky breath. “I….”

And then his gaze slid behind her. “I am grateful to see you have kept your word. A dreki’s oath must be sacrosanct.”

Kept her word?

She spun around.

“Forgive me for interrupting, my love, but I have something to say.” Marduk knelt at her feet, right in front of her father's court.

Dozens of waiting courtiers shifted, straining to see what was happening. Whispers shifted among the gallery. Several guards leaned closer.

And Solveig stood there in stunned silence, with her mate on his knees before her.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"Offering you my heart," said her smiling, handsome prince. “You swore you would return with my heart—or not at all—and so I give it to you.”

Three enormous claps of thunder echoed in the distance as if the goddess approved.

Her breath caught, and a dizzy sensation swept through her.

It couldn’t be so simple.

Marduk captured her hand and pressed a kiss to it. “You’ve had my heart far longer than I have known it. I love you. I love you for your fierceness, for your pride, for every murderous little thought that fills your head. I love you for your strength, and for your protectiveness. I love you, beyond anything I have ever known. And if you will have me, then I will stand at your side—as your shield, as your confidante, as your lover and loyal subject—for the rest of my life.”

“What are you doing?” she demanded, mind-to-mind, even as she glanced around at an entire court of highly interested dreki. “Get up.”

“Not yet.” He kissed her knuckles. “I made a mockery of you once. Now they can sing songs about how you brought me to heel and made me kneel before you. They can sing songs about Solveig the Fierce, and the foolish, wastrel prince who fell in love with her. I can’t stop the song you hate so much—but I can change it. Let me be the fool, Solveig. Your fool.”

That he would do this for her—humble himself so greatly—made her ice-cold heart skip a beat. Or two.

“I must admit,” she mused, “you do look good on your knees.”

Hot fire filled his eyes as he glanced up at her. “After this is done, I intend to worship you on my knees as any good, proper mate should.”

Her cheeks heated and she shot a glance toward her father. “Maybe later.”

“Definitely later.”

And then he surged to his feet and captured her in his arms, kissing her in front of her entire court.

Laughter rang out. Clapping. She let herself unfreeze and twined her arms around his neck, kissing him back.

Someone cleared their throat behind her.

Goddess. She broke from the kiss, and this time her cheeks truly were burning.

“In front of my father?”

Marduk laughed. “He might have to get used to it. And he did send us down this path together, though I believe he too has something to say to you.”

He pushed her toward her father.

“Daughter,” Harald smiled his sneaky smile at her—the one she knew so well—as he held his arms out for her.

She stepped into them, and closed her eyes as he hugged her close. “Did you plan this?”

A laugh rumbled through him. “The precise picture of his humbling? No. Though I’ll admit it makes good theatre.” He kissed her forehead. “I may have had a little to do with pushing the two of you together. Though it took a rather rash and undignified offer of one of three daughters, he kept choosing the right one.”

Meddling bloody fathers. It had never made sense for him to have offered all three of them. He would never have humbled her like that, unless…. “How did you even know that he and I were each other’s true flames?”

Sadness swept through his eyes. “Your mother told me.”

“What?”

“Your mother is one with the goddess now. But once a year she comes to me in my dreams. I think the goddess realized the mistake she made, and offers me a single night with my heart as repayment. Your mother watches over you, Solveig. All of you girls. And she is so incredibly proud of the woman you’ve become. She blessed this match, even when I had my doubts. She said you needed someone who would put a smile on your lips, after what you had suffered. She said a true queen needs a mate who will submit to her rule, and fight for her power without seeking to take it from her.”

A single tear slid down her cheeks. “She watches over us?”

“Always.” He squeezed her harder. “She wanted you to know she never intended for you to suffer alone and lock your heart away. The goddess’s blessing can be both curse and gift—but if it is a gift, then you must accept it.”

“I miss her.”

Harald squeezed her shoulder, his own eyes suspiciously gleaming. “Go. Go and see to your mate. I don’t believe he’s finished with you yet.”

Solveig turned, her tears softening her vision of the court until all she could see was a soft blur of gold and color.

But among it all stood one male.

Tall, handsome, blond, his hand held out for her to accept. And wearing some kind of bloody red coat with golden buttons, as if he’d stepped directly from a fairy tale.

“I hate that coat,” she said, as she took his hand.

“You can remove it whenever you like. Now come. I asked for there to be dinner and dancing,” Marduk said. “Because some foolish prince ran out on you last time, and he knows you missed the chance to celebrate your mating ceremony.”

“I hate dancing.”

“That’s because you haven’t danced with me.” His eyes twinkled. “Just think of it as foreplay—without the sword. But first, why don’t we go get you dressed for your ball?” His gaze slid down her. “You need your ‘evil queen’ boots.”

“Evil queen boots?”

“The ones that lace to your thighs. The ones that look like you could crush the souls of an advancing army beneath them. The ones you wore the first time we met.”

“Whoever said I kept them?”

“Please tell me you kept them. They featured in a great many dreams of mine over the years.”

She laughed and took pity on him. “Fine. I kept them. And I might even wear a gown. Are you coming to help me? I need someone to lace the back of it.”

“Absolutely not.” Siv shoved him out of the way. “You’re not going anywhere with him.”

“Or else you’ll never come back,” Aslaug said with a grin, capturing Solveig’s other arm. She threw Marduk a saucy smile. “You wait here and we will bring her back to you. Oh, and Marduk?”

“Yes?”

“Just you wait,” Aslaug purred. “She’s going to break your heart when she returns.”

His devilish eyes locked on Solveig with a smile that was all for her. “She always does.”

BEFORE YOU LEAVE THE LEGENDS OF THE STORM WORLD

DEAR READER,

If you enjoyed Master of Storms, then get ready for Queen of Lightning!

A stolen queen, two broken hearts, and a war that threatens to destroy two worlds….

Can Elin discover the key to bringing the elvish king to his knees before it’s too late?

And when Rurik risks everything to bring his beloved back home to him, what secrets will he unleash?

Available now:

Heart Of Fire

Storm of Desire

Clash of Storms

Storm of Fury

Master of Storms

Pre-order:

Queen of Lightning

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I hope we meet again between the pages of another book!

Cheers,

Bec McMaster

Princess. Tribute. Sacrifice. Is she the one prophesied to unite two warring Fae courts? Or the one bound to destroy them?

In a realm ruled by magic, the ruthless Queen of Thorns is determined to destroy her nemesis, the cursed Prince of Evernight.

With war brewing between the bitter enemies, the prince forces Queen Adaia to uphold an ancient treaty: she will send one of her daughters to his court as a political hostage for three months.

The queen insists it’s the perfect opportunity for Princess Iskvien to end the war before it begins. But one look into Thiago’s smouldering eyes and Vi knows she’s no assassin.

The more secrets she uncovers about the prince and his court, the more she begins to question her mother’s motives.

Who is the true enemy? The dark prince who threatens her heart? Or the ruthless queen who will stop at nothing to destroy him?

And when the curse threatens to shatter both courts, is she strong enough to break it?

A fairy tale twist inspired by the Hades and Persephone myth.

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ALSO BY BEC MCMASTER

DARK COURT RISING

Promise of Darkness

Crown of Darkness

Curse of Darkness

Novellas in same series:

Seduced By Darkness

LEGENDS OF THE STORM SERIES

Heart Of Fire

Storm of Desire

Clash of Storms

Storm of Fury

Master of Storms

Queen of Lightning

Legends of the Storm Boxset 1-3

COURT OF DREAMS SAGA

Thief of Dreams

Thief of Souls

Thief of Hearts

LONDON STEAMPUNK SERIES

Kiss Of Steel

Heart Of Iron

My Lady Quicksilver

Forged By Desire

Of Silk And Steam

Novellas in same series:

Tarnished Knight

The Clockwork Menace

LONDON STEAMPUNK: THE BLUE BLOOD CONSPIRACY

Mission: Improper

The Mech Who Loved Me

You Only Love Twice

To Catch A Rogue

Dukes Are Forever

From London, With Love

London Steampunk: The Blue Blood Conspiracy Boxset 1-3

DARK ARTS SERIES

Shadowbound

Hexbound

Soulbound

Dark Arts Box set 1-3

BURNED LANDS SERIES

Nobody's Hero

The Last True Hero

The Hero Within

The Burned Lands Complete Trilogy Boxset

SHORT STORIES

The Many Lives Of Hadley Monroe

Burn Bright

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kidnapped by a dread pirate when she was a child, USA Today Bestselling Author, BEC MCMASTER, was raised on myth and legend, and offered her younger siblings to the goblin king many a time. Unfortunately, he did not accept.

Now she writes epic fantasy romance with a dark and sexy twist, which is almost as much fun.

Bec has a secret weakness for villainous heroes, wicked fae princes and dangerous vampires, though in all her daydreams, she’s the one rescuing them.

She lives happily-ever-after with her very own hero and princess-in-training in the wilds of Australia, where she can often be found drinking tea or curled up with a good book.

Escape the ordinary at

www.becmcmaster.com

The hugest of thanks to my editor, Liv, from Hot Tree Editing for her work on Master of Storms. All mistakes are undoubtedly my own.

To Jennie Kew, for her wonderful insight on where the story was going and proofreading services. To Carolyn, Krishna and Trini for their thoughts during the beta read—the three of you helped flesh out this book more, and I love where your feedback took me.

To the wonderful readers in my Facebook Fan Page who cheer me on on a daily basis, and my amazing cover artists from Damonza.com. You found the perfect Marduk.

Last, but not least, to all of my readers who support me on this journey. You make it all so worthwhile. Even if I know I’m going to be receiving emails about what I did to poor Rurik and Freyja—trust me. I love them too xx

THE END