If they had been taken willingly to begin with.
“She’s dead.” Ström nudges her beautiful face with one boot as her emerald eyes stare at nothing, her body human again in death. Her head lies at an odd angle now from her body, her neck well and truly broken.
“Along with all our hopes of finding out who our enemy Bone Mage drakaina is.” Bjorn glances back up at the skies, watching the patch of sky where our enemy drakaina went. Even though he’s on his feet, he’s leaning heavily on me now, his arm around my shoulders.
And it doesn’t bode well for my First Drake.
Though that’s a problem we’ll have to solve another day.
“Now we’ll never figure out who our enemy drakainawas, and why Alfhild was working for her, finding ancient Bone Mage artifacts.” Ström is despondent as he snorts. “This was all for nothing.”
“Not nothing.” I reach out with my free hand, gripping his. “We got your memories back, plus Mikkel’s and Lærke’s, and now Alfhild is dead. She can’t control you anymore, Ström—any of you. And I’d call that a win, hands-down.”
But even I know I’m lying, as I gaze up at the empty blue skies. The truth is, we lost the most important part of why we came down here to Copenhagen—Alfhild herself. She could have given us so much information about who our enemy drakaina is and the renegade Bone Mage group she’s running with, not to mention the Black Dragon.
All of that is lost now, as Alfhild lies before us, dead.
“She called herself Litha,” a voice says behind us then.
We all turn to see a brawny young man standing on the beach, cradling a broken arm that is slowly healing. He has short, wavy brown hair and kind brown eyes, as he nods back up to the skies. “That small drakaina who killed Alfhild and got away just now. Alfhild mentioned her name once, as we were doing a job for her… she said it was Litha.”
I stand, shocked by this once-thief of Alfhild’s, as he offers information. As I see more of Alfhild’s once-thieves waking up and down the beach now, healing injuries from their shifts, I know all is not lost.
Not by a long shot, as my drakaina trumpets inside me with victory.
We’ve lost one battle by losing Alfhild Fey—but won another, as several thieves come to us now, ready to offer up information as we stand on the beach. Ström recognizes a few of them; as he talks low with them now, hearing their stories, I gather that all who have come to us, gazing upon her dead body with relief, were ensnared to her just the way he was.
It builds a kind of camaraderie amongst them now, as Ström hears details which might help us. None of them are sympathetic as they gaze upon her dead body. All of Alfhild’s harem of drakes had been bound to her by her incredible Bone Magic, unwillingly.
Alfhild’s power not a Bloodwalker—but not far from it.
I’m tempted to just roll her body into the ocean, though Ström insists we need to have a proper burial at sea for her, for those who were bound to her to have closure. I let him have it; we’ll find a shitty dinghy for her in these empty warehouses, toss some kerosene on it, light a road flare and torch the bitch as we push it out to sea. Alfhild Fey can have her send-off.
But I won’t celebrate it—only her death.
A sense of rightness fills me now to know Ström is free. I can feel the incredible relief that washes through him, and everyone who was bound to her, knowing she can’t control them anymore.
Mikkel and Lærke have a similar ease as we mill around on the beach. Lærke’s fury is still blazing towards me, however, as she talks low with her brother.
The twins hashing out what to do with their empire—now that I’m in the mix.
I didn’t intend to insert myself into their business dealings, and indeed, want no part of it. I’m just about to walk over from where I’m still helping Bjorn recover and tell them that, when someone suddenly strides down from the lighthouse to the beach.
I didn’t think anyone was up there; most of the Twilight Realm’s lighthouses are manned by magic, not personnel, and a headland with an actual lighthouse keeper is rare.
But I recognize the woman striding down to us on the beach, as the late afternoon shadows and light seem to bend around her. Dressed in all black, Head Watcher of the Black Dragon Knights Mikka Halsbrand is wearing Blood Dragon fighter’s leathers. They’re her usual whenever I’ve seen her in the Knights. Shock hits me now as everything inside me roars that the Council has found us.
My Bloodwalker power surging up—ready for battle.
There’s no one else from the Council with her, though, and no other Knights; Mikka has come alone. As she senses my menace, she holds up her hands, walking more slowly towards us.
None of her dragon’s power raisedfor a fight.
She’s here to talk, I understand, as I haul my magic back now and hold out a hand to my drakes. Because all of them were just powering up, too. Even Mikkel sensed my sudden alert and has come into a group with Ström and Bjorn, raising his mighty black dragon for an attack.
They stand down now, into a tense wariness as I motion them back. Moving to me, Mikka comes five feet away, then stops.
Her dark eyes pinning me in the bright day.
