Page 49 of Soul of Fire

I supposed he could say the same about me.

Arik sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, looking like the weight of the entire kingdom was on his shoulders. “I have no fucking idea.”

“What did you tell him about the Rift?” I knew Arik wouldn’t tell his father about my suspected power, but I had no idea what lie he had concocted instead.

“I said it was a theory. Based on the cave.” Arik sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t want to mention the Book in case he decided to hold it over me as more leverage. Or you, obviously.”

I squeezed his hand.Smart.

It would have been smarter to keep my damned mouth shut about the Rift. If I’d let him go on, I’d know more about his plans for this suicidal war.

“Okay, so,” Jorgen drawled, looking around expectantly. “What now?”

“You get the fuck out of here,” Arne replied. “Sooner, rather than later. Once yer back in Ironholm, there’s not a lot he can do to you.”

“Agreed.” Arik looked at me, and I knew the fear I sensed across our mental bridge was not for himself.

Arik had told me that most dragons would rather die than live without their mates. That if the heartbreak didn’t kill them, they would take their own lives by jumping into the Rift.

I knew deep down that Idunn wouldn’t suffer Baldur’s loss. If Arik’s father killed him for his refusal to lead the drage in this war, it would mean my death, too.

If we didn’t leave, I had a feeling that the king would find a way to force us into his war, or kill us when we disobeyed. He may want Arik for his heir, but he didn’tneedhim.

“Then we should go today,” Jorgen said, thunking his goblet on the wood table. “All of us. Now. If Eisa can’t fly, we’ll carry her.”

Arik flattened his palm against my lower back as he shook his head. “We can’t leave yet.”

“Yer not staying for this farce of a handfasting, are you?” Arne looked incredulously between us.

Arik looked down at me, waiting for me to decide.If you still wish it, Kjære, I will find a way to make you my bride. I swear it.

“We leave today,” I agreed, looking at my mate and fighting the urge to tell him how utterly in love with him I was. But now wasn’t the right time. “After we get the Book.”

“Thank fuck,” Arne growled, pulling something from his pocket and slamming it on the table. “Ye’ll need this, then.”

It was a small brass key attached to a chain that looked to be centuries old. Arik pocketed it with a nod of thanks. “That was some fine sleight of hand.”

“Got ye these, too.” Arne shrugged dismissively and dropped a pile of blue fabric on the table before him. “The skalds wouldnae know treachery if it punched them in the throat.”

Jorgen choked on his drink, and Branka gave him a firm whack on the back. “What’s the plan then?” she asked. “I assume that’s the key for the Book?”

“It’s the key to the archives,” Arne corrected. “And robes from the laundry. I have no idea how the Book is guarded, but ye’ll be able to get to it at the very least. The rest will have to be up to you lot.”

“To you two, actually.” Arik nodded to Branka and Jorgen as he squeezed my hand. “We need to have a final word with my mother.”

AswewaitedforBranka and Jorgen to finish their preparations, Arne left to meet with some of the less warmongering jarls. It was unlikely he could convince them of the king’s folly, but he had insisted on trying before the Althing took a formal vote.

“Take care of yerself, lass.” He embraced me as he took his leave, his green eyes full of emotion. “And yer stubborn man.”

“I’ll try,” I promised, smiling up at him. He looked pale and tired, clearly too old to stay up drinking with the younger men, butI didn’t know him well enough to suggest he see one of the palace healers.

If he was anything like Arik, he’d scoff at the notion.

“And you. Be careful.” He shook Arik’s hand, a wealth of meaning passing between their gazes as he took his leave of us.

“Have you slept?” I asked, studying my mate. His beard was more unkempt than usual, and I lifted my hand to trace his scratchy jaw with my thumb.

Arik caught my hand and pressed a kiss to my palm. “I’m fine, Kjære.”