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Davorin’s jaw pulsed. It drew out a cruel laugh from Ari.
“By the look on your face, I’d guess it was.” Ari shrugged and spun the blade in his grip. “Stupid of you, since it was made for me, but that was your point, wasn’t it? You know we wield the power to hurt you, to kill you.”
Davorin seemed delighted. “You may try.”
“I won’t. I’ll do it.”
Ari was closely followed by the others, including Eryka. She was battered, but when she caught sight of Gunnar she waved, as though they had not been parted so viciously.
“Take vows with me!” She cried, a little sob caught in the sound. “The instant this ends. Take vows with me. I cannot wait another day.”
Gunnar fought a smile. “We’re vowed in my mind already.”
“Even in battle, love cannot be quenched.” Ari sneered at Davorin. “You and I, we have unfinished business that I wouldloveto address.”
With a grunt, Ari heaved something thick and heavy into the hall of the royal house. Cuyler was the one who shouted his stun. I shrieked. Bjorn’s head landed in front of Davorin’s boots.
“Lord Gorm, you have my sympathies,” Ari said. “It was a choice between Bjorn or Saga. Truth be told, it was not a difficult choice.” With both hands, Ari gripped his new sword. “Looks to me your army is no longer yours, and we have you surrounded. I think it’s long past time you surrendered to the Raven Queen.”
Chapter42
The Golden King
“Make sure he wants her enough to chase her,” Niklas said. “We need him to follow her without recognizing the signs of a cage.”
“You thinkyou’ve won because of a sword, Awakener?” Davorin twirled his blade, well accustomed to handling steel. “You think after all these centuries I’d be finished by a few blood fae and a blade?”
Not yet. I grinned. “I did, in fact. You’ve yet to prove me wrong.”
One thing I knew about this egotistical bastard was never make him feel like the weaker one. It brought out his fight, his rage, his insecurities. His delightful weaknesses. With a quick lunge, he swung his blade.
I met his strike with mine. Saga cawed at my back, clearly unsettled. I focused forward. Davorin ducked my strike. I tipped my sword over the length of my spine, saving my back from a hit. I jabbed. He swung. The heat of fury in my blade only fueled me onward. Like a dozen voices in my head, I could sense the magic of my blood connected with the glamour of the feather.
Davorin stumbled when a tree appeared from nowhere, roots high and knotted above ground. It wasn’t there of course, but I barked a laugh when he lost his footing all the same.
“Surrender.” I winked. “You have no chance. Isn’t that what you told me, yet here we are.”
Jaw tight, he struck. The crash of his blade vibrated to my palms. I kicked against his knees. He cursed and ripped a knife from a sheath on his ribs. One swipe and he nicked my side. Bleeding bastard.
Behind us, Niklas and Junius swarmed the royal hall and dropped vials of Niklas’s antidote. It smoked and misted around the wild fae. Saga’s cloak had been wafting the elixir since she’d arrived, but this was a full assault on Davorin’s corruption.
Dozens of his fae convulsed, tossing their insides, too damn weak to even consider lifting a blade. Others fought against our warriors. Their poison was deeply embedded in their veins. To them, we were the enemy, and Davorin the savior.
The clang of swords scraping over swords rattled the royal house and the trees. The blood fae shouted cantrips to stop the slaughter, others used teeth to tear off ears or lips. Some sluagh mimicked voices and drew the wildlings close to their horrid mouths to lose their purpose for existing.
Rune fought beside Bo. The tracker did not have his sharp skills as he once did, but he knew how to use a blade. Rune hardly lifted his. When a wild fae drew too near, he faced them with his glamour-pale eyes and watched their flesh chip and harden into cold stone.
The fae who succumbed to Niklas’s elixirs were too ill to be worth much to us in this fight, but the greater part was they were worthless to the battle lord too.
Gorm buried his questions on the head of his captain, Cuyler tore his gaze off his dead uncle. They shouted for the armies to take the wild fae, to stand with their king and queen.
A bit of relief flooded my heart. There was a collective worry amongst our murderous group that Gorm or his son might turn against us for slaughtering Bjorn. It spoke a great deal to the blood lord and his trust in me, in Saga.
In truth, when I’d killed Bjorn it was a swift choice. I could’ve taken him captive, perhaps, but another risk to Saga’s life had been brought. All I saw was blood.
Davorin roared his frustration when Gorm’s warriors spilled into his stronghold from the collapsed burrows. The blood fae cornered the wildlings, they held them under their blades as they spewed the poison from their blood. Not all would survive, but there was nothing we could do about that.
The battle lord turned his vicious sneer to me. “You’re a fool, Awakener.”
