Propped against a tree amid the other wounded, Mikhail watched Izeling Tower burning in green flames, the eerie aura rising high into the heavens. Mina’s dragon flame had caught the castle on fire when she returned from tracking down those who’d tried to flee back to Dragon’s Eye. Mikhail had already been down on the battlefield with the rest of his men when she flew over in a roaring rage, burning the north battlement.
Next to him, Brennalyn wept over the prostrate Duke of Winter Hill, with Izzy wrapped tightly in her arms, now asleep after her ordeal. Friedrich bled from numerous battle wounds, but one had made a definitive mark. Brennalyn had stayed behind in Izeling, waiting for the fighting to end. And now she lay her head to Friedrich’s chest, her black hair sprawling over him as she wept and wept.
“Kitten, you’ll have to stop crying like that.” Friedrich pulled himself up against a tree trunk. “I’ve still got one good arm to hold you with.” To exemplify, he tugged her close and caressed her back, the stump of his left arm now stitched and mending since he’d fed from one of Vietka’s girls. Then he placed a hand atop Izzy’s golden head with a smile.
Strangely enough, Vietka and her women had traipsed back to the battlefield to help those holding onto life, knowing the vampires would need blood to self-heal and the humans would need tending. The people of Izeling had swarmed out in droves to help, carting many back to the church, which had become a hospital for the wounded victors of the Battle of Dragon Fire, a name one of the locals had already dubbed it.
Brennalyn shot up off his chest, fury pinching her brow. “I want to kill the one who did this to you.”
“No need, darling,” crooned Friedrich, playing with a lock of her black hair. “Riker took care of that for me.” He nodded appreciatively at the man, standing with his arms crossed and leaning against a tree.
“You’re quite welcome, Your Grace.”
“I want to kill him again,” muttered Brennalyn, seething.
Friedrich smiled up at her. “Now, kitten. We’ve had enough death for one night. And look at Riker. He does quite well with only one eye. I’ll do well enough with one arm.” He glanced to Riker. “No offense.”
“None taken.”
Arabelle strode up with Marius at her side, a severe cut on her forehead already mending itself. Marius, a gash torn through his armor and shirt below the ribs, knelt beside Friedrich.
“Are you all right, cousin?”
“Good God. I’m fine. Everyone, stop fretting over me.” His severe tone shifted when he looked at Brennalyn and cupped her face. “I’m alive. And that’s what matters.”
Arabelle blew out a heavy breath. “Quite right, Friedrich. Many lost their lives.”
Marius glanced back at the burning tower, an otherworldly flame consuming the evil dwelling brick by brick. “But many more would have had it not been for Vilhelmina.”
“How is Sienna?” asked Arabelle. “Someone told me—”
“She’ll be fine,” said Mikhail. He had bitten her right after he killed Dominik to ensure healing began at once. Her injury wasn’t as bad as it had appeared at first, though she wouldn’t be out of bed for a long while if Nikolai had anything to say about it.
Arabelle crossed her arms. “You know, Marius? I hated Mina for being betrothed to you when I first met her. It seems I should’ve befriended her from the start. We might’ve ended this war before it had ever begun.”
“Kind of hard to befriend your kidnapping victim.” Marius smirked.
Arabelle rounded on him. “She was a bloody royal vampire. My enemy.”
“And now you’re a bloody vampire. And a royal one as my wife.”
“Has anyone seen my damned brother?” asked Friedrich.
Grant marched up at that very moment with Katya and Dmitri. “Miss me already?”
“Thank the stars.” Friedrich scowled. “I hadn’t seen you since that damned queen plagued us with ice-pick hail.”
Grant glanced down at his brother’s missing arm, a severe frown pinching his brow with anger and concern.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” snapped Friedrich. “Don’t you start, too. I’m all right.”
Grant cleared his throat, seeming to swallow his anger. “I only want to know one thing.”
Friedrich rolled his eyes. “What’s that? If I killed the bastard who did this?”
“No.” He shook his head lightly. “How the devil all you vampires look like you’ve been beaten to shit and I’m rosy as a day in spring?”
Friedrich grinned. Marius laughed, then grabbed his injured side with a wince. Grant knew what his brother needed.
Mikhail glanced at his own brother, Dmitri, who knelt beside him. “Do you need a bleeder? They’re kind of on short demand at the moment.”
Mikhail shook his head. “I’ll be fine. Let those worse off get tended to first.”
Dmitri glanced at his blood-soaked stain, scenting the extent of his injuries even though Mikhail’s black attire didn’t show how badly he’d been hurt. The truth was, he was weak. But he’d certainly heal.
“Oh, my dear Katya. Seems you’ve sustained a few injuries as well.” Grant arched a devilish eyebrow at her as he sidled intimately closer. “Brennalyn says I taste awfully good. I’d be more than willing to sacrifice my blood for you.”
Mikhail and Dmitri exchanged a knowing glance. She didn’t enjoy the flirting kind of man.
She tilted her head and whispered softly, “If you and I were the last two on Earth, I’d fall into a bloodless sleep before I drank your blood.”
He grinned wider, pulling at a loose leather strap on the harness crossing her chest. “The lady doth protest too much.”
She slapped his hand, vampire swift. “I’m not a lady.” She stormed past him and marched off.
“Perhaps not.” Grant watched her walk away with ardent admiration shining in his expression. “But you are a very fine woman,” he whispered mostly to himself.
“Mikhail!”
He swiveled to the sound of Mina’s sweet voice. She’d donned someone’s heavy cloak, her bare legs and arms exposed as she ran toward him, her eyes still glittering green with the residue of magic. A line of Bloodguard marched behind her, including Gregoravich and Yuri.
She knelt and crushed herself to him. “I was so scared you didn’t make it.”
He buried his head in her hair, inhaling the wondrous scent of sunshine and white jasmine. The scent of joy and passion. And love.
“You’re shaking.” He slipped a hand beneath the cloak, gripping her waist to determine that she was indeed naked beneath. He hauled her onto his lap, snuggling her closer.
She pulled back enough to look in his eyes, her emotions bright on her face. He smiled and wrapped her nape gently, stroking a thumb along her jaw and whispered, “So the white queen wasn’t exactly what we thought, was it?”
She laughed, cupping his face. “No. It was more.”
Without a care for propriety, he melded his mouth to hers, slipping his tongue inside to taste his woman, to remind her she was his and he was hers. He quickly learned that not all parts of him were so injured.