“The King’s forces are losing, badly.” Lærke watches the battle with narrowed eyes. “They can’t contain the Black Dragon. They’re pulling back, out of harm’s way—shepherding the surviving villagers out. There’s no stopping the beast’s carnage.”
“We’re out of time, Rikyava.” Mikkel is the one to voice it as he turns to me. “Bjorn’s right; now that Litha and Emil are no longer solidifying their position in Denmark with their pet, they’re going to go straight for our Lineage’s heart—our King.”
“From that village, it’s a straight shot northeast to Stockholm.” Ström is bitter, as a seething green-crimson Bloodwind lifts all around him in the hall. “Villages will fall as the King’s forces pull back, even if the True Knights support them. Because they haven’t got shit to fight this thing with. Neither do Huttr and his son… when they finally must lead the battle to protect Stockholm against the beast.”
“We have to get them something they can truly fight with, an edge against the Usurper, or they’re all going to die, heart-cursed by the Black Dragon and devoured into its flesh.” I suddenly ditch all my reticence against having group nookie, and look at Bjorn. “We need to try boostingall our energies with group sex, so we can push these curses out of Baldur fast, and get him ready to do a Bloodwalking and create this Soulstone to entrap the Five. Can you handle that?”
“I am Befälhavare for my King.” Bjorn gives a firm growl, as he pounds a fist to his heart, his eyes flashing with a hot golden fire, at last. “I would fuck to my death if it would save him and all of us. Let’s do this.”
As I know my First Drake is finally in, deep relief fills me. It is quickly banished, however, as we watch the last of the King’s forces wing well back from the Black Dragon, only getting injured village dragons out now as the Usurper heaves mighty gouts of flame at the last hale buildings.
It sets everything on fire as it kills the land with its diseased, oil-and-char curse-ropes. It’s a grisly scene, bringing back torturous memories of Jurggadden, not to mention the terrible destruction at the Jarl of Copenhagen’s hall, where so many excellent warriors perished.
As a terrible darkness fills me, roaring for vengeance against those who wield the creature, I feel myself lose it. I feel the inner black dragon of my Bone Magic tower up over my brighter drakaina, nearly snuffing her out as its void-dark eyes fill my inner sight.
As a terrible black Bloodwind goes whirling around me in the mirror-hall, I feel how badly I want to punish our foes. Bjorn is hammered back by that nasty Bloodwind, as is Ström, thrusting them from Baldur’s bed as the covers and pillows are whipped everywhere.
Only Mikkel stands strong in my gale as he quickly wraps his arms around me. He puts his lips by my ear as he opens our Bloodbond wide. Pouring his own black beast into mine to calm my Wraith, he murmurs, “They will get theirs, Rikyava. But now is not the time.”
Knowing that our enemies will get their due is the only thing that stops me from going utterly black in this moment. Because despite even Baldur’s curses pulling at me, I had almost gathered enough power of pure wrath to shift up into my midnight-devastating black dragon, and soar up, unhinged through the skies in my vengeance.
Mikkel understands where that road leads, however. He holds me as Igasp hard breaths now through my black vendetta, struggling to come back, as Bjorn pours his all inside me through our bond.
And wakes me the fuck back up to my inner light.
It works, barely. As I come back to the room, my sudden hurricane of diseased black Bloodwind dying, I see how furious curls of crimson-black flame snuff out from the hall.
Because I was one second from combusting in just the same way the Black Dragon’s diseased oilslick Bloodwinds can combust, and how Baldur nearly did earlier. Producing an all-burning fire that keeps going, like phosphorus.
As it snuffs everything else out.
I heave hard breaths now in Mikkel’s arms, as my other drakes and Lærke finally come back to the chaise. Thankfully, Baldur was not harmed in my sudden hurricane of wrath; unfortunately, his bed is wrecked, and even his clothing is singed, as Bjorn and Ström hastily pat everything out.
It makes me the biggest liability among us now, however, as I feel how much the Black Dragon’s curses push me to go dark through my Fourth Drake. It’s not only Baldur they’re harming, but all of us, as they push us to descend into our deepest darkness.
Me most of all—since I’m no longer completely stabilized by my brightest Fourth Bloodmate.
“We need to try this group sex. Now,” I say with no hesitation whatsoever, anymore. “Lærke, stay here and heal Baldur as much as you can. Bjorn, get Baldur a new bed, make him comfortable so Lærke can work. Mikkel, we need sustenance from the kitchens; bring it all back to my room. Ström… walk with me. I need to hash some things out.”
No one gainsays me, as I bark orders now like a war commander. Because that’s the mode I default to when shit really hits the fan; though my drakes are all alphas, they just nod, squeezing my hand or briefly kissing my lips to do as I’ve asked, and get this show on the road.
All of us stew in our darkest places, however, as Ström and I exit thelibrary hall. We walk fast with our magic torches down the luminous corridor, not quite a trot, but close to it.
I don’t even know what to say, as too many thoughts churn inside my head. Glancing at me, Ström is there as he clears his throat.
“Are you ready for this, Yava?” He asks, as we walk fast towards our destination.
My bedroom, where the next part of this craziness is about to go down.
“Fuck no.” I shake my head as I lay it on him, needing to process this, though I don’t even know where to start. Which is why I asked him to walk with me, because if any of my drakes know how to help me through this massive cluster-fuck of a situation, it’s Ström.
“But I have no choice, do I?” I glance at him, grim. “If it were up to me, I’d take my time getting to know each drake in my bond, getting to share time and energy before we rammed up against something like this. But Mikkel and Lærke are right: we’re out of options. It’s do or die time. So, somedoingneeds to be done. So we don’t all die.”
“Nice one.” Ström chuckles, though his energy is still tense and watchful, as he talks this out with me. “You don’t have to approach this like you’re a piece of meat, though. Though you’re the epicenter of this Bloodbond, we all have to bond with each other—and should do so in our group sex—to make our bond the strongest it can be, complete.”
“Tell Bjorn that.” I shake my head as worry devours me, that us even trying to do some all-together nookie is going to be a fucking shitshow. “Doing this with four seriously alpha drakes is not like doing this with Courtiers and Courtesans of the Red Letter Hotel Paris. Egos are going to get bruised; tails are going to get stepped on. I just know it.”
“We’ll figure it out. We have to,” Ström says gently as we turn down a different corridor, heading back towards the dormitory hall. “Even despite his serious jealousy over sharing you, Bjorn knows that. He’s a good warrior, and a good drake, Rikyava. He knows he needs to figure out his jealousy so he can play ball with therest of us.”
