“Give me some time with him,” Bjorn rumbles as he brushes back a wayward strand of my hair. “I may not be Mr. Perfect, but I’ve learned a few things about my inner rage from therapy. Modern therapy didn’t exist eight hundred years ago when Baldur was processing his demons. Maybe there are a few tricks that could help him.”
“Worth a shot.” I cinch my arms tighter around Bjorn’s solid waist. “Want me to stay with you?”
“No. Go rest.” Bjorn nods towards the vaulted exit of the hall now, as a soft smile takes his lips. “We all need to conserve our strength, rather than wasting it where we’re not immediately needed. You and Ström should go take a nap after everything that happened just now, find some food and recover.”
I feel Ström grow restless at Bjorn’s suggestion, though, and I look over at him.
“Actually… I would like to stay here a while. Go through some scrolls and volumes on the shelves that haven’t totally disintegrated.” Ström looks atme, an eager fire shining in his green eyes. “Maybe there’s something in this library besides the silver mirror that could be useful to us. You never know.”
“Curious kitty.” I smile now, as I leave Bjorn’s embrace to turn towards Ström, threading my arms around his far leaner waist. “Apparently, your treasure-hunting habits from trying to solve your own curses from Alfhild all these years die hard.”
“Hey, you never know. Maybe I’ll find us something else useful. This mirror was absolutely worth it.” Ström grins at me now as he cinches me close, palming my ass.
“Invaluable.” I kiss his lips, lingering before we part. “Fine. You stay here, check things out, and help Bjorn and Lærke. I’ll go see if I can find some extra food for us and bring a bunch back. If Baldur’s going to settle in here to study the scrolls, we should make him comfortable, probably bring him a bed or something to crash on as well. I’ll get some sustenance first… see you two in an hour.”
“Sounds good.” Ström kisses me one last time before I pull out of his arms. Turning, I kiss Bjorn, too, letting it linger before we pull away.
I don’t want to go, as I glance at my drakes one last time, preparing to exit the hall. Some part of me feels like I should stay; Baldur might need me to interpret some arcane detail from my Ancestor’s scroll, or to help dissipate his rage again before too long.
But let’s face it, I’m just a hindrance right now, as I fret about Baldur’s and my mutual darkness pushing us both into our worst natures. I heave a sigh, making eye contact with Baldur one last time. He feels me, stopping his work. Looking over, he raises his eyebrows.
I blow him a kiss.
The startle that takes his face is priceless. The connection that blazes between us is real, however, as our dragons rush to each other now in a deep mate-taste.
It shudders me with ecstasy, even as Baldur’s dark blue eyes burn likephosphorus. The rage in him isn’t gone, however; I feel it, lurking behind the serenity, as he at last quirks a sober smile.
That same inner darkness isn’t gone from me, either, as Baldur gets back to work on the scroll. As I leave, I can’t shake the feeling of Baldur’s and my own vast inner rage swamping me.
Because it’s so big, universal, like the sub-sonic hum of the cosmos’ own resonance. It’s deeper than sound, as it growls far down into my blood and bones, shuddering me to my very fundament.
I shiver as I move towards the library hall’s main doors, because that sound is inside me, through me, and all around me. And I still can’t shake the feeling that it’sevil, as my darkest dragon roils inside my veins now.
Powerful and unrepentant in its endless cosmic wrath.
6
WRATH
As I exit the library, Mikkel suddenly steps to my side beyond the doors. My preoccupation with my own inner darkness makes me startle hard; normally, I can feel my drakes at a distance, but thanks to my stewing about Baldur, I didn’t even feel him one bit.
As Mikkel surprises me outside the mirror-stone hall, I barely arrest myself from flinging him into a punch-and-throw combo, drilled into my bones for ages. It would have sent my Third Drake right to his ass on the corridor’s stones; it’s the second time just today that one of my drakes has startled me, without me even feeling them at all through our bond.
I don’t like it, whatever’s going on with our magic, as Mikkel lifts an eyebrow now.
Gloating that he just got a rise out of me.
“Jesus! Mikkel!” I gasp as I lower my hands, relearning how to breathe.
“Thank you for not dropping me to my ass just now with all your warrior’s training.” Mikkel gives a darkly amused smile, despite everything that just went down inside the library hall.
“Were you waiting out here the entire time?” I ask, as I rub my chest and my heart rate finally lowers, though notby much.
“Where else would I be? Am I supposed to turn tail and hide whenever Bjorn orders me around?” He chuckles as he hands me a magical torch now, from the two he’s got. Both torches light up in our dragon’s colors as we egress towards the dormitory hall in the underground warren we call home. “I’m truly surprised you couldn’t feel me out here, Rikyava. Your magic’s very preoccupied if your dragon-senses aren’t picking up on the whereabouts of your drakes, and even your Bloodbond isn’t.”
“Dealing with Baldur’s resurgent rage is obscuring everything with our connections, I think.” I frown now, knowing Mikkel is right. “Or it’s the Black Dragon’s curses. Either way, not good.”
As I go internal now, into where my connection to my four drakes lives, and even a bit of connection to Lærke, thanks to her being Mikkel’s twin, I feel almost entirely Baldur now.
