Taking all of Emil’s holdings, regardless.
Mikka Halsbrand swipes up Lars and Arvid’s rings from the ground now. Her gaze stony, Svanhild Magnussen steps up beside Bjorn. Stooping, Bjorn picks up his father Oggi’s black ring from where it fell; as he stares down at it in his hand, I see the pensive frown that takes him.
As he wonders whether he can ever be the Magnussen Jarl, now that he did not kill his father in battle.
“Jarl Oggi Magnussen was ended by the Black Dragon. His Outcasting of you is now over,” Bjorn’s great-aunt, Svanhild Magnussen, says now, as if reading Bjorn’s mind. She reaches out, touching Bjorn’s shoulder, as her eagle-gaze penetrates him. “Not only that, but you ended the Black Dragon, Bjorn Magnussen. By our ancient clan laws… that makes you the next Magnussen Jarl.”
“So it does, by any clan laws and by the Lineage’s laws, as well.” King Huttr stares Bjorn down hard, with Svanhild. “If you want it, the Magnussen Jarldom is yours, son. The question is: do you want it?”
As Bjorn stares down at the ring in his hand, I feel the deep war that sweeps him. His inner war is only temporary, because something magnificent rises up through my First Bloodmate then, the dragon inside him burning.
His eyes seethe gold, hot and bright, as a burst of gold-red and white auric fire rushes off him. And I know his decision, as Bjorn inhales a massive lungful of air.
And roars like the true Jarl he is.
That roar is echoed back at him by hundreds of throats, as the Magnussen contingent suddenly roars with him. As Bjorn startles, because he didn’t know how many of his people wanted him on the Jarl’s seat, it makes tears come to his eyes, as I feel his throat grip hard.
As he roars again, echoed again by the strength of his clan, I feel the towering rightness of it. As Svanhild Magnussen seizes his hand and thrusts it up into the air, she cries out, “The next Magnussen Jarl has come! Repent, all those who served their former master, as Jarl Bjorn Magnussen rises!”
The third and final roar rips from Bjorn’s throat, the towering overtones and bass notes of his dragon thundering through the air on a tidal wave of white auric fire, as his people roar back one last time.
To confirm him as their next Magnussen Jarl.
The place he should have had all along.
Bjorn claims his ascension to the pinnacle of his clan, and cheers heave up from the vast Magnussen contingent. Ström grins, slapping him on the back, as Baldur cinches Bjorn close by the shoulders and gives his cheek a peck.
Bjorn seizes me in his arms, crushing me close now as he claims me with his kiss; auric fire seethes through us both as we explode with it, resplendent.
Rightness blazes all through me, as Bjorn accepts his Jarl’s seat. As our kiss breaks and we part, I feel how my heart celebrates. Every heart aroundme celebrates, too, as I feel there is only one last thing to do now that we have destroyed the Black Dragon and all those bound to its fate.
I kneel now, retrieving Lithava’s black master ring from the ground where it fell as she dusted away. Bjorn understands what I’m doing as he places his father’s black ring into my open palm with Lithava’s. Mikkel gives me Emil’s, and Mikka gives me the rings from Lars and Arvid.
With each black ring in my palm, I contemplate them a moment. The dark aura still festers inside them; although the Black Dragon was destroyed and all the souls bound to it, these rings are made of older magic, and have resisted that destruction.
They simmer in my hand, a cool sensation easing off them even after their bearers have gone. I feel how they are still a gateway for the cosmic division energy to enter our world—a problem I intend to fix right now. I inhale, raising my auric wildfire to the max.
Then make a fist—blazing love filling me as my auric wildfire razes them.
Nothing of Hedda’s black rings is left as I open my palm, letting their white ash dust away upon the wind. As it goes, I feel a sigh lift from our assembly, watching the last of Hedda’s infernal malevolence drift away.
And then we are cleared, as I suddenly realize we have accomplished what Hedda could not. The unity of our people, this unity within ourselves. A tremendous wave of joy breaks all through me now as I open my mouth and roar in heady abandon with all the bass notes and overtones of my Bloodwalker dragon in my voice, to celebrate.
And each and every one of the Dragons of Blood and Bone roars with me—complete.
32
FOREVER
My resignation parchment is in my hand as I step into Reginald Durant’s office at the Red Letter Hotel Paris. I set it on his desk as he tracks its descent with his pale blue-grey Siren’s eyes; scanning it through and noting my signature at the bottom, he signs it with a flourish from his gilded fountain pen. Rising, he extends a hand, his intense eyes pinning mine. I accept it, giving his hand a solid pump.
Before Reginald opens his hand, stepping around his gilded desk and escorting me to the door.
He opens the door as he ushers me through, both of us walking side by side to the outside portico where my new motorcycle is parked. All my things are already packed and shipped up to Sweden. My suite on the fourth floor of the Hotel is vacant, and I have only the clothes on my back now as he walks me to my bike.
Those clothes are badass, though—a hot little number in royal plum, my signature color, with sequins all over it to throw the light. It’s a party outfit, courtesy of the Hotel’s finest seamstress, Amalia DuFane, because I’m headed to a party tonight after I’m done here. It’s a party I can’t waitto get to now, as Reginald eyes me and I see the smallest smile steal in around the corners of his lips.
Pleased with my elated attitude tonight.
