Fire roared through his veins in searing objection to the poison racing through his blood that was determined to block his Channel. Aldrik pivoted, his hand clamping firmly over another enemy’s mouth, flames erupted through the man’s chest as the prince poured fire down his throat, killing him from the inside out. Their intel had been wrong. It had been beyond wrong – it had been downright bad.
He cast an arm at the edge of the clearing, maintaining the perimeter of flame around where they were fighting to funnel enemies into only one entry. Keeping flames hot enough to sear through most stone skin was exhausting in its own right. Coupled with the exertion of battle and the frustrating limitation of the poison arrow that had managed to nick his nose mid-dodge and he was actually winded.
Exhaustion was a luxury that Aldrik had never afforded himself, his enemies certainly wouldn’t, and the prince pushed on. Ducking and dodging around swords, he quickly removed the pressure from two more, giving him a moment to survey the field. The initial attack had reduced their forces by nearly a quarter and the men had struggled to regroup.
They were supposed to have surprised the Northerners, not the other way around.
The thought was fleeting as his eyes found Elecia. The girl could hold her own, he would’ve never agreed to her coming if she couldn’t. However, that didn’t stop fire from jumping off his fingers and arcing through the air to crackle against one of the more heavily armored attackers – one without stone skin.
A cry pulled his attention in the opposite direction and across the pass. Aldrik’s heart suddenly seemed to go dead in his chest. His father’s armor was unmistakable.
Aldrik searched frantically for her. A woman he shouldn’t have been able to find. She should’ve blended in with the other soldiers, lost in the fray.
The next time he had his Vhalla in arm’s reach he was going to strangle his infuriating woman after kissing her senseless, Aldrik vowed.
The wind around her seemed to flash brilliantly as her magic tangled with it. It was a breathtaking sight meant only for his eyes. Something about her, her magic, his intimate knowledge of the woman, their Bond. Aldrik’s sorcery called out to her like his heart did. The girl had gone from a quiet summer’s breeze in his life to the gale that filled his sails and propelled him forward.
And she seemed determined to get herself killed.
Aldrik turned a moment too late, caught unaware by the two men who had crept up on him in his distracted state. Even surprised, he was a better fighter than most of the world. When other men had been out making friends and lovers Aldrik had been honing his magic against the whetstone of practice. The sight of Vhalla had renewed some of his strength and Aldrik fought against his enemy with vigor.
He should hate himself for the blood on her hands. But, for perhaps the first time in his life, hate could come later. He’d relish in the queen who led his people opposite him. The light to his darkness, the counterweight to all he was, the woman his dreams assured him would rise at his side to sit with him upon a golden throne.
Magic surged to him, eager to meet his joy. The sudden force of his fire surprised even him and Aldrik paused, stunned. His eyes crossed over to the opposite side of the Pass, meeting hers. Did she know what he had just done?
Elation quickly crumbled to fear. He was drawing magic from her like a leech through the Channel of their Bond. And, for the first time in his life, Aldrik found himself afraid of his sorcery. What if he drew too much magic from her and didn’t leave her with enough? His mind raced around the question as enemies raced to meet him.
Suddenly aware of how much magic he was expending, Aldrik struggled to calculate what he may be drawing from his lady in-between sword swings and rock-hard punches. He was still maintaining the fire at the perimeter, and then what he was using to fend off his assailants. Aldrik dodged a blade, twisting to try to thwart a secondary attack. His counter was weak, restrained. If she died now, he would blame himself forever.
His distraction, his concern for her ultimate demise, was his undoing.
The enemy launched their attack before he had time to even think about what they were doing. They moved, in unison, punching for the ground instead of him. In his haste to calculate every possibility with Vhalla, he ignored the most apparent assault before him.
The rocks groaned and shuddered beneath his feet. Aldrik raced to where the Groundbreakers were standing, raced to safety. He wouldn’t make it, but he would try to catch the ledge upon which they stood.
His hands tore at the crumbling ledge. They grasped, hungry for salvation. He felt a sickening pull in his lower stomach as the world fell out from underneath him.
Aldrik was falling.
Air enveloped him from all sides, roaring through his ears. Seconds stretched into eternity as the sun stared down at him. The Mother had finally cast her fiery judgment. It was a decade late, but it finally came for him, for the crimes he had committed against his people.
And then, a Goddess of a different sort intervened.