“Hang on.” Leaving the table, I head to my things we brought from Sweden and rummage through them. In a moment, I’ve found what I’m looking for; the bright blue scale I liberated from our dead Icelandic drakaina at Riksfold.
Returning to the table, I run that dazzling sky-blue scale through my fingertips, seeing darker lines of cobalt lance through it, even a shimmer of pure gold.She was probably beyond beautiful in the air, with colors like that,I think to myself.
But even though the blue drakaina’s signature of life, her soul, hasreturned to the Void of Ancestors now where it belongs, Aesa’s Truthstone hums upon my chest as I hold the scale. An idea comes to me, then.
An idea I have no clue how I’m going to pull off—or if it can even be done.
“We need to do a Bloodwalking. A proper one,” I say as I grip the scale in my fist. “That blue Icelandic drakaina was our best source of intel yet on our enemy Bone Mage drakaina Litha. We’ve lost Alfhild Fey’s information on Litha and what artifacts she was looking for, thanks to said drakaina offing Alfhild before we could get anything out of her. Alfhild’s conscripted drakes were helpful with a few small tidbits, but they had nothing else about our enemy drakaina, other than her name. We need more. If this Icelandic drakaina,” I gesture with the scale, “was sister to Baldur, then maybe we could kill two birds with one stone, talking to her spirit beyond the Veil where she now resides with our Ancestors.”
“You’re remarkably lucid in your memories tonight,” Lærke notes just like Ström did, as she lifts an eyebrow at me.
Just then, I realize she’s right. I’ve been just as lucid about my memories concerning the blue Icelandic drakaina as I have been her supposed brother, Baldur. It makes me wonder now if their entire family possesses some magic that could help me.
Some magic I need, to regain my memories from the Black Dragon Knights.
“Regardless.” I glance at Lærke, then back to Ström. “I think we need to try a Bloodwalking. Soon.”
“Wouldn’t that be risky?” Ström inhales a deep breath. “Someone’s been lying to you via the Void of Ancestors, Rikyava, manipulating you—a few times now. How can you be certain any information you get from that place, in the supposed voice of this blue drakaina, would be trustworthy?”
“Not to mention that your First Drake is in no condition to do a Bloodwalking right now.” Lærke snorts as she crosses her arms, jutting herchin at the still-snoring Bjorn. “Unless you want to kill him even faster than being bonded to my brother is already doing.”
I know their points are valid as I also glance at the sleeping Bjorn, still out cold. But as Aesa’s Truthstone hums upon my chest, its smooth silver swirling with golden runes and flashing a bright crimson like that ancient drakaina’s battle-ready eyes, I know a Bloodwalking is what we need.
The question is, can we get any useful information out of it without being deceived again?
Or get it done quick enough, without draining Bjorn to death?
6
PARTY
Lærke excuses herself to head back to her rooms with Mikkel and continue attending to their empire; it leaves Ström and I staring at each other as our suite is suddenly silent, other than Bjorn’s snoring.
In a conundrum now about whether we risk a Bloodwalking to contact our blue Icelandic drakaina among the Ancestors when Bjorn is in his current state, and with how we’ve been lied to in the Void, it all feels too overwhelming.
As I heave a deep sigh, it comes with a growl. Deep inside, my dragons are churning again, wanting to move forward with all of this, but feeling held back.
Not only that, but I can feel my memory opening up like a washtub full of sieves now. It’s been a very long time since Ström and I had sex at dawn to stabilize my dragon-aura; that thought lances between both of us now as Ström’s emerald gaze connects to mine.
As he feels my tenuous lucidity slipping.
“You need to feed on one of us again, with sex, to stabilize your memories. Touching Mikkel just now wasn’t enough to last the night.” Strömpushes up off the table. Moving to me, he reaches out, stroking my hip with his fingertips. “Bjorn’s out. He’s still too exhausted to have sex, just like he’s been all week. Mikkel’s out, too. He’s too much right now, with Bjorn already unable to counterbalance his power, even without you two getting it on. Which leaves me, again… Want to get freaky?”
Even though Ström grins at me with his renegade princely charm, I can feel how drained he is, as well. The fact is, Ström’s been the only one to feed my devastated Bloodwalker magic this entire past week—and it’s starting to show.
We’ve been doing it morning, noon, and night, sometimes a few times a night, to keep my memories as stable as I can get them. As I feel inside his power with my magic, I sense a bone-deep fatigue creeping through him now.
Ström’s not as wrecked as Bjorn from feeding my power day and night to oppose this mess, because his Bone Magic naturally resonates with Mikkel’s. I can feel that he can’t go on like this much longer, though. Ström’s wearing out, just like Bjorn.
And it doesn’t bode well for our group at all.
“You’re tired,” I say to him now as I reach up and touch his cheek.
“I’m fine,” Ström asserts as he moves in. He kisses my lips and I feel his deep Bone Magic ardor move through him like a dark, moonlit night. It comes with a lovely wash of his natural dragon-scent; like river water flowing down from fresh glaciers to the sea, Ström has an enlivening scent that both my inner drakaina and my dark drake roll around in, like twin cats.
Though we press hard together now, Ström cupping my ass as he pulls me in by the neck, I feel nothing from him down below. We grind for a moment, kissing; usually, that does it for him in two seconds flat. After a few minutes, however, it’s clear nothing’s still happening where it counts.
Ström pulls back with a blink. He gazes down at his crotch, giving a wry smile.
