There was a spirit to her—a savagery—that he wanted to experience, tame. His gut clenched as she fought off his men, slowly losing ground. Arrik cursed himself and wiped more rainwater from his eyes. Savage beauty or not, she was the enemy. There was no room for compromise.
The Rider and her dragon managed to take out another half-dozen of his soldiers when a bolt grazed her shoulder, causing her to drop her bow. She had no other weapons, and her dragon could only claw and bite so many soldiers at once. The beast took to the air.
“Don’t let her escape!” Arrik commanded, numbness starting to invade his senses once again. They couldn’t allow her to get out of range. Even so, he found himself hoping that they’d make a clean getaway.
The pair was the stuff of legends. They deserved to live.
Several different crossbows aimed at the dragon and its ferocious rider.
Impassively, he watched as the bolts went whistling through the air, chasing the near-invisible creature as it tried its damnedest to get away.
Three.
Two.
One.
One of the bolts hit true.
The creature screamed in agony and crumpled, plummeting from the sky.
A flicker of guilt and sadness moved through Arrik as the dragon and Rider hit the tumultuous sea with a crash that should have been deafening but was instead swallowed by the sound of the storm all around them.
He stared at the waves for a moment, willing them to break the surface.
They didn’t.
More deaths to be laid at his feet.
Arrik locked his feelings away. His thoughts were dangerous. He only had one purpose. Bring the isles to their knees. To succeed, he needed to become the beast his father championed. A conqueror without mercy.
Nobody was spared in war.
9
Wren
She screamed as Aurora shrieked and then plummeted toward the ocean.
This was it.
The thrashing unforgiving sea rushed toward them and Wren closed her eyes.
The impact hurt.
She clung to Aurora as they tumbled in the dark water. Wren opened her eyes, trying to discern which way was up and pressed her heels gently into her dragon’s side.
Aurora didn’t respond.
No.
Wren used her dragon’s frill to heave herself over Aurora’s head. She spun, pushing her tangled hair out of her face as she reached for her dragon’s snout. Aurora’s eyes were wide and glassy; nothing remained behind them.
This isn’t happening.
They sank deeper in the water, but she couldn’t believe her eyes. How could Aurora be gone? Heat burned at the back of her eyes and the tears she shed were swallowed by the sea. Wren hugged her dragon’s face and closed her eyes. And for one horrible moment, she thought about simply sinking to the bottom of the sea with her dragon. It would be so easy. It was quiet here.
Think of Britta.
Even if she wanted to sink into oblivion, her sister needed protection. If anything, Wren had to survive for the heir of Lorne. The enemy could never get their hands on her.
She forced her eyes open and pressed a kiss between Aurora’s eyes.
I love you.
It took all her strength to unwrap her arms from her dragon. Wren’s lungs began to burn as Aurora sank deeper and deeper below.
Goodbye, my friend. You will always be in my heart.
Wren kicked her legs and started to focus on the waters around her. It was a bloody mess of ship debris, bodies, blood, and sharks. She slowed her ascent so as not to attract the attention of the predators feasting around her. The waves fought against Wren as she tried to make it to the surface unscathed.
If Rowen were here, he’d have made it to the surface already.
He always swam like a fish. The stormy sea would have been no problem for him.
Her body ached as she neared the surface. She caught movement from the corner of her eye and faced it. A sleek shark darted toward her, and she pulled back her fist and rammed it in the nose just before it took a bite of her arm.
The beastie shot away like a wounded pup.
Wren mustered some more energy from her tired body and broke through the surface. She wheezed a desperate, life-saving breath of air into her lungs. Her chest heaved as she treaded water, frantically looking left and right to try and get to grips with her surroundings. A wave temporarily knocked her back beneath the surface, and, for a moment, Wren panicked. But then she remembered her training, forced herself to calm down, and resurfaced once more.
Just work out where you are. You can do that.
The trajectory of Wren and Aurora’s descent into the water had been diagonal, which meant Wren now found herself out of the sphere of the battle. It was to her left, still deafening in her ears, but with the way the current was pulling her, all she had to do was let the sea continue to carry her farther away to remain safe.
To her right, through the fog, Wren thought some of the gray mass seemed more solid than the rest.
Move, this is what your father trained you for. Work though the fatigue.
She inhaled deep and swam toward the solidness with slow firm strokes. The fins slicing through the water made her want to speed up, but she kept her pace measured so she wouldn’t drown, nor draw the sharks attention. It took her far longer than it usually would have to reach an outcrop of black, polished, volcanic rocks. She heaved a sigh of relief at the sight of them. She’d made it.
Clawing her way out of the water just enough that the current could not so easily carry her away, she felt around until she was reasonably sure she had good purchase on the rock to keep her above the waves.
She held on and stared at the massacre in the bay.
All at once, Wren broke.
She began to wail.
The storm answered, screaming right back at her. Lorne—and by extension, the entire Dragon Isles—had suffered a heavy loss. Wren had no doubt she was not the only one crying right now. But there was no comfort to be had in this collective sadness, so she merely sobbed harder.
She was in so much pain. Mental, psychological, and emotional, yes, from the insurmountable losses she had amassed today, but also physical. Her muscles ached from having carried Britta for so long and clinging to her dragon. She was bleeding. Every inch of her felt bruised.
Her eyelids lowered and her teeth began to chatter.
Her body was shutting down.
She’d experienced it twice in her life before when she’d pushed herself too hard.
She hauled herself higher out of the water and rested her cheek against the stone. Her body had nothing more to offer. Wren had used every ounce of energy up and now she’d pay for it. A low chuckle escaped her at the thought of falling asleep and drowning after everything she’d survived. It was nothing short of a miracle.
Wren closed her eyes.
Just ten minutes. She needed a small break before she hauled her carcass back to the island.
She woke up with seawater in her mouth.
Wren sputtered and tried to reorient herself as she clung to her rock. The tide had risen considerably. How long had she slept? She clambered further up the rock with a groan and sat down, her feet still in the water. The nap was supposed to help, but if anything, she hurt more than before. Shivers worked through her body and Wren wrapped her arms around herself, tucking her fingertip into her armpits.
It was bloody cold, no—freezing.
The blanket of true night covered Lorne properly now, though since it was midsummer, that wasn’t saying a lot. The worst of the storm had abated, but dark and swirling clouds still covered the sky, obscuring the fact that at this time of year, the horizon never quite got dark.
She craned her neck and blinked slowly as she noticed the large black sand beach not far behind her. How had she missed that?
“Storms are debilitating, even for the most experienced sailors,” her father’s voice echoed in her mind.
She examined the waves and the tide. The tide was still coming in so at least she had that working for her. It would still be rough. The waves were choppy, dark, and angry. Perhaps a dragon was around?
Wren cupped her hands around her mouth and whistled.
No answering shriek.
She licked her lips and began humming as loud as she could. Perhaps that would help.
Still no reply.