Jarl Jorg going to the humidor and opening it up.
“Favorites?” he asks me with a pleasant look now as he holds up a cigar. “Anything you particularly care for?”
“Are we celebrating?” I ask with a blink, dumbfounded by the Jarl’s manner now when I thought I was about to get a serious talking-to for taking his great-grandson into my budding harem without his permission.
“You’re life-mated to my dearest grandson.” The Jarl smiles with kindness now as he slings an arm around Ström’s shoulders. “I think that calls for cigars, don’t you?”
“I do!” Mathilde has moved over to the cigars, perusing what’s inside.She’s eager as she points at one. “Dibs on the Rocky Patel A.L.R. Second Edition Toro.”
Jarl Jorg hands the exceedingly expensive cigar over to her without hesitation, retrieving a cutter and clipping off the end. Everyone selects cigars now, as I just ask for one of his favorites since I don’t smoke much, and we’re soon alight.
Puffs are taken as fine brandy and scotch are poured, me getting a whiskey that smells just right. We clink glasses, the Jarl beams at us, and we slam our drinks back in our first toast. After the third drink of our traditional three-drink toast to celebrate a life-mating bond, Ström’s elegant grandmother laughs.
Then rakes me in for the biggest, sweetest hug.
“It’s so wonderful to have another Bloodwalker in the family!” she crows, as she smooshes my cheeks with her surprisingly strong hands, then kisses my lips.
“MormorAnnika, enough accosting my mate!” Ström chuckles, though he doesn’t pull me away from his thin but formidable old grandma.
“She is one of my kind, grandson!” the old matriarch says now as she links arms with me, facing the men. I’ve noticed Mathilde has come to my other side, linking arms with me, as well.
“And so the Bloodwalker drakainas do as they will. Always it is thus, in the Eriksson clan.” Jarl Jorg chuckles now as he slams another scotch back.
“You’re a Bloodwalker?” I blink as I glance at the handsome elder, Annika. I look at Mathilde incredulously, as well. “And you?”
“You didn’t think you and Maryse were theonlyones in modern times, did you?” Mathilde scoffs at me with a wink now as she shakes me by my arm. “Mormorand I are the only two in our clan. She has three life-mates. I don’t have any yet, though.”
“And you’re a Bone Mage.” I look pointedly at the Jarl now, as he calmly holds my gaze.
“It is Eriksson tradition that only the Bone Mages of our clan are selected to lead us,” Jarl Jorg says now as Ström stares at him anew.
“All this time…” Ström gapes as he takes in his great-grandfather. “You knew what I was. And you were keeping from me what you were.”
“I had to, my Heir.” The Jarl is serious now as he drains his drink, then puffs his cigar, candid as he watches Ström. “For we are hunted in the wider world, by forces who have made enemies of us.”
“The Black Dragon Knights,” I say, knowing who he’s talking about.
“Yes.” His gaze pins me. “But not theoriginalBlack Dragon Knights, of which we are a part and whose founder, the Bloodwalker Matriarch Aesa, you wear upon your very heart in her ancient, much-coveted Truthstone. It’s all part of a legend the True Black Dragon Knights keep—us. A story that goes back generations of the Bone Mages who were persecuted because of how powerful they were, and the Bloodwalkers who tried to help, before it all went disastrously wrong.”
“You know the real story of the Black Dragon,” I say now, as both Bjorn and Ström stare at Jarl Jorg. “And of all our ancestors… who gave that thing life.”
“I know some of the tale, though other parts of it have been lost, even to us.” He nods, as even Mathilde waits with bated breath to hear this ancient tale. We take our cigars and drinks, adjourning at the Jarl’s beckon to the dark green velvet chaises that surround the low card table. We sip and snack on our dinners as we smoke. As everyone settles, the Jarl swirls his latest drink.
Then pins me with his ancient gaze—taking it around the circle.
“All of you here have a stake in what’s coming, and must know the story I am about to tell.” He is sober as he regards us. Nodding to Ström’s grandmother, he continues. “Annika is already aware of this tale, for she is part of the original Black Dragon Knights, as I am. The three of you are not, but as modern Knights with this mission you now share, you are involved perhaps more than any of us. And Mathilde, as a young Bloodwalker, needs to understand her power, and learn the tale of why the BoneMages are hated so much… and why the Bloodwalkers are nearly so, as well.”
Pausing, Jarl Jorg looks around at us all.
Then launches into his full tale, as I sit on the edge of my couch between Ström and Bjorn, to hear it.
“Five thousand years ago, when the Blood Dragons were many, we were a strong people,” Jarl Jorg says as we listen. “We were not just in Scandinavia, but had clans all around the globe, thanks to raids and travels in ancient times. I assume you know everything Maryse found out about our ancient past before she died. That a terrible war began between the Blood Sages and Bone Mages… which nearly wiped out the Bone Mages after such long and vicious in-fighting.”
“Maryse said the Bloodwalkers tried to stop the war.” I cut in with a frown. “We discovered that my own ancestor created something terrible—the Black Dragon—to try to stop it, though it got away from her and caused devastation.”
“Yes and no.” Jarl Jorg pins me with his gaze now as he continues. “Maryse was digging into the true origins of the Black Dragon Knights right before she died. She was close to discovering us, therealKnights, still beholden to our duty since ancient times. For there was a schism in the Knights, three hundred years after they were formed. We are getting ahead of ourselves now. Yes, ancestors in all our families contributed to creating the Black Dragon, the Usurper. Bloodwalker ancestors… which is why Bloodwalkers surface in all our families, every so often. Their bloodlines passed down through the generations.”
“My family doesn’t have any Bloodwalkers.” Bjorn scowls, though he’s listening intently.
