“Let him go!” Rhennic barks, thunderous, as he commands the skies even in human form.
His boom of thunder rolls through blackened skies, darker than midnight now and roiling with storm clouds from his power. His guards know when to leave off; whirling, they rush back, shifting down on the promenade as I see more than a few sporting nasty poison burns from Mikkel, much the same as mine.
But his last thought was true before he took off. We are not his actual enemy, as I feel him streak towards Copenhagen.
To wreak unimaginable havoc on the person who is.
“I have to go.” Lærke makes eye contact with me, quickly finishing up her healing on my arm. It’s nasty and red, but has ceased to blister, as she finally takes her hands away. “Mikkel has gone Wraith into his beast; he’s not coming back unless I help him. I’m the only one who can.”
“What happened?” Ström heaves hard breaths as he joins us, supporting a limping Bjorn. Bjorn has an enormous bruise on his hip from where Mikkel slammed him in the skies, and I’m thankful my First Drake can even walk right now, because it means nothing is broken. Blood Dragons heal fast when we shift, but a broken pelvis is still tricky to heal well.
Stoic, Bjorn sets his jaw against the pain as he and Ström arrive.
“The Chartreuse was raided. What we all saw in that sudden vision… it was true,” Lærke says to our group now, as both Rhennic and Insinio join us. The big Archangel has his gargantuan wings spread wide, and I can tell he was doing some kind of Archangel magic to protect everyone, me, my drakes, and all Rhennic’s people, as a searing glow around him gradually fades and his seven-layer wings descend back to the earth.
“The Jarl of Copenhagen?” I ask, as Ström’s attention sharpens as well.
“Yes.” Lærke’s pale lavender eyes are vicious, grim. “He must have gotten news about our flagship club being weakened by Alfhild Fey’s invasion, then Mikkel’s and my departure to France. It was the perfect time to strike; those were his big brutes we saw in the vision, storming into the club. The club was demolished, and many were captured; those who couldn’t flee into the tunnels in time.”
“And now Mikkel’s gone amok with wrath. Fuck.” Ström curses as he heaves a dark breath. “He’s going for blood. Straight into the lion’s den.”
“He’s a dead man if he goes alone,” Lærke says as her gaze pins mine. “The Jarl of Copenhagen is one of the top three strongest Jarls in all Blood Dragondom. Not only is he himself wickedly powerful, he’s utterly cunning, ruthless, and has a truly enormous army of loyal guards at his command. In his current state, my brother’s not thinking. He’s not even in his right dragon-brain at the moment; he won’t stop to find our allies and secure backup before heading to the palace. He’s going to get himself killed. Unless I stop him.”
“Go,” I say at once. I realize Lærke is asking in her fierce way for my permission right now to go after my Third Drake. Even though he’s her brother, her twin, some bonds trump even those of birth-blood in our culture—and the bonds of a life-mate are just that, as she watches me now.
For my consent.
“Are you fast enough to head him off at the pass?” I ask Lærke now aswe lock gazes.
“Yes,” she says as she nods, quick. “If I leave right now, I can catch up to him.”
“Do you have a way to stop him when you do?” I ask quickly, hoping this isn’t a fool’s errand.
“My body-paralyzing magics work well on my twin.” A sad smirk twists her lips. “I can’t use them widely in a battle, however, because they can paralyze everyone around me, not just those I want to be paralyzed.”
“Get him. Bring him down. Bring him back to us.” I reach out now, gripping her hand, though my barely healed arm twinges.
“I can get him… but I don’t know if I can bring him back.” Lærke’s gaze is beyond ravaged as she squeezes my hand, hard. “Rikyava…” She says nothing else, but I see her and Mikkel’s entire history in her eyes as she tries to get me to understand. I do, as I take a deep breath, nodding.
“Get him. Stop him from doing something insane until we can come help.”
“Thank you,” she whispers as I see a shine of tears well in her eyes. But Lærke is made of stronger stuff and always has been. With a short nod, she rises; then shifts up fast into her white and green drakaina and vaults up into the skies after her brother.
“I’ll go with them,” Ström says quickly now as he kneels by me, touching my face. I push up to standing, because I won’t be left on my ass in the presence of drakes, even injured, as Ström stands with me. He grips my hand as he stares hard into my eyes, his grass-green ones full of emotion. “I can help soothe Mikkel; Lærke’s going to need me to bring her brother back from his Wraith. We’ve done it before.”
“Go. Be careful,” I say as I move in, kissing him. We indulge in it for the briefest moment, before Ström sighs hard and pulls away, battle-readiness in his eyes.
He looks between me and Bjorn. “You two need to get to Iceland, stat, and find our Fourth Drake. We’re not going to be able to balance Mikkel’s wrath in our magic until we get Baldur. I hate to think about what itmight cost us, if Mikkel makes a run on the Amalienborg Palace in Copenhagen before our bond is strong enough….”
“Sometimes a Bloodwalker and her drakes survive if one of them is killed,” Bjorn says as he nods, “but not often.”
“And two might be, if I have to fight by Mikkel’s side in a run on the Jarl’s palace before we’re ready.” Ström’s green eyes are sober as he looks from Bjorn to me. “Don’t let us get dead, Rikyava. Find Baldur; get us some serious firepower. Then get back to Copenhagen, as quick as you can. I don’t think even Lærke and I can deter Mikkel from what he feels needs to be done. Not for long, at least.”
“Work your wiles; convince him to wait, for all our sakes.” I reach up and seize Ström’s face, kissing him hard. “We’re off to Iceland now, tonight. Just as soon as I can go grab Hekla’s blue scale from my things.”
“Love you,” Ström says tenderly as he cuddles me for just a moment, holding me tight. Then he’s kissing me, setting our foreheads together.
Before he lets go—backing off and shifting up.
