Kayluth insisted on preceding Tyr up the ladder leading out of the tunnel, giving a small amount of trust to Hazer behind them. Who he found at the top only slightly surprised him. Councilman Pavel stood beside Tore, speaking about a guard switch he’d orchestrated in a hushed tone. Pavel had become a thorn in King Bjorn and Moondrake’s side ever since Bjorn had been crowned following Dagr’s deceit. Of course, they’d investigated every member of council after Bjorn’s coronation, but, somehow, Pavel must have lied well enough to slip through. Or, he switched sides after the fact. Either way, the male’s life was forfeit.
“Ssstupid man,” Kayluth hissed at the Councilman, and then he laughed. They all looked at him like he was crazy, but he didn’t care. “Sstupid, sstupid man.” When Tyr emerged and lunged for Pavel, Kayluth didn’t even bother to restrain him. If Tyr didn’t kill Pavel, those who followed would.
Hazer yanked Tyr off Pavel, who stared at the Drakken, the fear of the gods in his wide-open eyes.Good.Kayluth spat at the man. Dirt beneath his feet. Even Hazer had more worth than the cringing fool.
“>” Tyr cackled.
“>” Kayluth stuck out his tongue quickly, like a lizard tasting the air, and made a slurping noise.
They snickered menacingly, falling back easily as Hazer guided them away from Tore and Pavel. “You two are the strangest Drakken I’ve ever met.” The look of approval from Hazer was something Kayluth never thought he’d see in his lifetime, and his humor faded.
“I might ssay the ssame, but I have never met a Fenrir before. How many Drakken have you known?”
“Quite a few, actually.”
“How?” Tyr asked.
Kayluth wanted to know the same, but the question stuck in his throat.
Hazer’s lips twisted as he stared at Kayluth. He pushed Kayluth and Tyr farther back, farther away from the others, and kept his voice low. “You think I have your brethren collared like the slaves you once were, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes, but that’s what I’m trying to tell you. On my ship, we work together. We live together, love together. What you once knew is no longer, at least for me and mine. Tore only knows the ridiculous nursery rhymes. Drakken picture books that paint us with a black brush. Propaganda.”
“You lie,” Kayluth spat. There was no way everything his father told him, had taught him could be wrong. Ssu, he might have forgotten them as he’d grown older, but one never forgot the lessons heaped on one’s ancestors.
Hazer shook his head sadly. “No. It’s the truth, but it’s fine if you don’t believe me now, you will when we get to my ship.”
“What truth could you sshow me to change my mind? Tell me now.” Kayluth gripped Hazer’s shirt, letting his claws extend just enough to rip through the Fenrir’s clothing.
Hazer took a deep breath and relaxed his shoulders. Pliant in his hands, Kayluth could only stare at his mortal enemy in bewilderment. Everything he thought he knew about the Fenrir was being turned on its head. Hazer had the upper hand. Why was he not attempting to subjugate them?
Slowly, Hazer wrapped his hands around Kayluth’s wrists. “I swear on the life of my son, I am not lying to you.”
This male… a father…? Dear Dracco…Kayluth allowed Hazer to ease his hands away. No sane father would swear on the life of their child unless they spoke true, but he’d always been told to fear the Fenrir. Unfortunately, old prejudices were the most difficult to change. He needed to see to believe.
Kayluth held Hazer’s steady gaze a tarran longer before he nodded. “We sshall meet thiss sson you sswear upon?”
“Yes. He’s the reason why I agreed to thismissionanyway.” Hazer glanced at Tyr.
Kayluth peered at the Fenrir, his instincts roaring. There was an important detail Hazer left unrevealed, but Kayluth doubted he wouldn’t divulge it. Not yet, at least.
“The way is clear, Your Highness,” one of Tore’s soldiers said.
“Excellent.” Tore strode towards them. “Keep them quiet, Hazer. I don’t want any problems. Once we’re on the ship you can fuck them or whatever your kind do.” An unpleasant sneer marred his otherwise pleasant features.
“>” Kayluth quipped, to which Tyr chuckled.
“>” Tyr chirped. “>”
Hazer pushed them to follow Tore. “He’s an ugly male. I’m glad he isn’t your king.”
Kayluth slapped a hand over his mouth, but not before the house rang with his laughter. Tyr had his lips smashed together, but his shoulders shook.
Tore spun in the doorway and glared at the three of them. “You think this is funny.” He drew a small knife from its sheath on his belt. “Your mortal enemy has you in chains, and after Manning’s little coup, I don’t much care for you myself.” Tore closed the space between them in three long strides, tucking the blade under Kayluth’s chin where it pressed against his skin.
All humor drained from Kayluth as he froze. He’d never tried just shifting the top half of himself—only his hands and arms—and he wondered if he could before the blade sliced too deep to save himself.
Hazer moved to Tore’s side, his voice a mere whisper as he said, “Think carefully before you strike a killing blow. Vidar Kayluth is one of the Drakken Triumvirate. His son—your nephew—bears the blood of two or, I suspect, more Drakken kings. His death will bring the wrath of both the Drakken and the Volé humans who have come to love him.”
Tore growled, but ripped the blade away, uncaring of the nick to Kayluth’s chin. Blood splattered Kayluth’s tunic. He pressed his hand to the wound, awkwardly with the way his hands were tied. Tyr made a worrying sound with a few clicks of his tongue and pressed close to Kayluth’s side. Kayluth voiced a soothing rumble, dipping his head to rub against the younger Drakken’s. The gemstones in their braids clacked as they bounced together, a swirl of red and light blue, giving them both a small distraction as Hazer guided Tore back to the door.
