“You’re worse than the Dragon,” Sigmundsson said. “His mother made him a demon, but you chose to be a demon’s lapdog. There is a dark pit in the Mist with your name on it, boy.”
Reyker’s sword silenced the man.
He stood in the center of a ring of corpses, trying to catch his breath. As soon as the fog of battle lifted from his mind, his stomach recoiled, spilling bile onto his tongue. He could feel the lords’ blood drying on his skin, stiffening his clothes.
Draki watched him, looking bored. “You may return to Dragon’s Lair after you bring me the head of Solvei Snorrisdottir.”
All this carnage, and Draki still would not give him what he needed. “I’ll leave for Fjullthorp as soon as the bodies have burned.”
“These are traitors, brother. Enemies.” Draki kicked Sigmundsson, whose lifeless complexion was as white as the moon. “You know what must be done.”
The warlord held out a knife.
Reyker shut his eyes. Images of the fortress in Dragon’s Lair floated across the backs of his lids, a nightmare made of rocks and bones. He took the knife and knelt beside the first body, fighting the shake of his hands as he began to slice away the skin.
CHAPTER 34
LIRA
The days began to blur together, one lesson after another. Sometimes it was weapons and combat training in the Blood Ring with Draki. Other times, I was in the temple with Hilde, who taught me more about Iseneld—its people, its legends, its gods. With respect and humility, I prayed to those who’d granted me permission to use my gifts, and little by little, my abilities strengthened.
“If you forget who this island belongs to, you will lose the Ice Gods’ favor,” Draki cautioned. “Your gifts will run dry.”
“And you still garner their favor?”
We stood in the stern of one of the warlord’s many longships, cutting through the waves as I reached out with my senses to find Seffra’s current and harnessed Velder’s wind to billow the sail.
“I am Ildja’s son. That is all the favor I need.”
Over the past weeks, Draki had taken me to another nearby farming village, so I could push my hands into the soil and speed the growth of their crops. He’d tasked me with transforming jars of salt water into fresh water. In the fortress infirmary, I’d helped heal small ailments—a Dragonman’s sprained ankle, a cook suffering from gout.
Modest powers, useless to me as a captive. Though Hilde and I had lessons every day, he would not let her teach me the rituals for the last of my untapped powers—gifts of metal and war—knowing what I might do with them.
“Tonight,” Draki said, “I’m meeting with emissaries from my holdings outside of Iseneld, including the Green Isle. You may accompany me, if you like.”
He held the favor out to me, but I couldn’t snatch it up without knowing the cost. “Why?”
“Call it a reward for your hard work.”
Draki was planning something, that much I could tell. He wouldn’t let me in on his schemes, and I wasn’t willing to turn down his offer out of spite. “I’ll go.”
Taking hold of wind and current, I angled the ship parallel to shore. After so many hours of practice, it was almost effortless—I envisioned what I wanted the vessel to do and wrapped a cirrus of power around whatever force was needed to make it happen, pulling them to me like reeling in a fish. I wondered if I could pitch the ship hard enough to throw Draki overboard and command the tides to ferry me away from here.
Draki was watching me as he often did, like he knew what I was thinking. I’d watched him, too, these last weeks, as we’d trained during the day, and on the evenings when the inhabitants of Dragon’s Lair gathered in the feasting hall to listen to one of the storytellers or musicians display their talents. He was constantly surrounded by servants who worshipped him, warriors willing to die for him, but they were merely decorations in the background of his existence. They served their purpose, nothing more. When he didn’t force me to dine with him, he took his meals alone. When he didn’t make me accompany him on his rides through the countryside, he traveled alone. He had no companions. Draki wasn’t a mortal or a god—he was both, the only one of his kind, fitting in with neither.
Beneath his callous visage, Draki seemed almost . . . lonely. The word was too sympathetic, too human, but there was no other description for it. He was as isolated as the island he called home.
There had to be a way I could use this against him.
“I want to speak with the priestess this afternoon,” I said. “Privately.”
Every time I met with Hilde, the Dragonman accompanying me stood inside the door, listening to our conversation. She was teaching me to read Iseneldish, and we’d talked lightly of our lives and pasts, but we guarded every word knowing anything we said could be reported to Draki. Why was I free to roam the library, the parlor, and the stables without a Dragonman hovering nearby, but not the sanctuary?
“For what purpose?”
I used Hilde’s words. “Holy guidance.”
Draki laughed. “I’m not a fool, Lira. Neither are you. Visit the temple alone if you wish but remember that your choices have consequences. Hilde is replaceable.”
“You would execute a priestess?” I shouldn’t have been surprised.
“I will dole out a fitting punishment to anyone who betrays my trust, be they kin, comrade, or priest.” The longship went suddenly, completely still. Though the wind blew and the waves lapped, the boat did not move, and I knew it was the Dragon’s doing.
Draki looked at me. Without arrogance. Without his usual pomp and flair.
This was his true power—he was inhumanely strong, impervious to weapons, he could move so fast he was rendered invisible, he could speak into people’s minds and enter their dreams. But all of it came from this gift, this inability to be affected by forces or boundaries, unyielding to entities of nature or men. Draki was immovable. Unconquerable.
“Future consorts are not immune to my wrath either.”
The threat came softly. In all this time, Draki hadn’t touched me except when we sparred in the Blood Ring, and though his gaze and his hands often held desire when he trained me, he’d made it clear there was a line he would not cross. He didn’t want to force me—like a wild horse, he wanted to break me, and so he waited, testing me, teasing me, holding back, certain I would submit eventually.
His restraint might dissolve, if I pushed him too far. A fitting punishment.
Draki released his hold on the longship. He nodded at the pier, a silent command to head back.
I didn’t hesitate, turning us directly toward the shore.