Elias backed up, his hands rising in defence. ‘The mountain is coming down, cousin.’
‘Careful with that word, Elias.’ Light bloomed at the entrance to the cavern as Alarik stepped inside, keeping his sword raised. ‘I can see now family means nothing to you.’
Elias stumbled, falling at the king’s feet. ‘Not as much as respect.’
‘Or coin, I imagine. A title, I’m sure.’
Elias didn’t deny it.
Alarik curled his lip. ‘You should have come to me.’
‘What would you have given me, beyond the scorn of the Felsings?’ Elias shot back. ‘The family that has shunned me from birth, denied me the riches and title that have always been rightfully mine?’
‘I suppose we’ll never know now.’ Holding his burning torch aloft,Alarik looked down on his cousin in disgust. ‘Seeing as you’re Regna’s spymaster, I’ll be killing you either way.’
Elias scrunched his eyes shut as Alarik’s blade met the point of his chin.
Through his teeth, the king said, ‘Where is my wrangler?’
Greta’s vision was fading fast, her lungs choked on ash and dust. She tried to call out to Alarik, but no sound came. He wouldn’t spot her here in the fallen rubble, hidden by shadows and rock. Not until it was too late.
A smoky huff made Alarik raise his head.
The dragon crept forward.
With his torch flickering before him, Alarik looked up, into the ancient, glittering eyes of a long-extinct beast, and said, in a strangled voice, ‘A dragon, then.’ His throat bobbed. ‘Good. Great.’ Another swallow. ‘Forgive the intrusion.’
The beast cocked its mighty head, and with her fading mind, Greta sensed it was taking the measure of him.
Seeming to make its decision, it swung its head in her direction and released a breath of fire. Enough light to make the shadows around Greta fall away.
‘Greta?’ cried Alarik, forgetting all about the traitor at his feet.
He flew to her without a second thought, tossing the torch aside as he came to his knees. Groaning from the effort, he lifted the boulder from her chest and began unburying her from the rocks. She gasped an inhale, coughing the dust from her lungs.
He cupped her face in his hands. ‘Are you badly hurt? Can you breathe?’
‘Barely,’ she huffed. Her chest was badly constricted, and her legs were pinned, but her armour had prevented her ribcage from shattering.
‘All right, wildling,’ he said, keeping his voice steady as he unburied her, but she could see the panic in his eyes. He was lifting and hurling rocks with the strength of ten men, barely pausing to breathe. ‘I’m getting you out. I’m getting you home.’
Alarik was so distracted by freeing her, he didn’t notice Elias scrabbling for his fallen sword.
Greta eked a ragged shout. ‘Watch out.’
Alarik turned just in time, narrowly avoiding Elias’s strike. He was on his feet in the next heartbeat, running for his own sword. Their blades met in a blinding clash, once and then again.
In the flickering half-light, they looked like ghosts. Alarik was the stronger of the pair, but Elias was quick on his feet and fighting to kill. Greta could feel the dragon’s growing impatience, her glittering eyes assessing the men as they fought, as though she was deciding which one to incinerate.
Seized by a growing urgency, Greta set about unburying her legs. Alarik had removed the heaviest rocks, allowing her enough movement to finish the job. When she clambered out of the rubble, they were still fighting. Alarik had drawn blood – a gash in Elias’s side and another on his left shoulder, but his cousin was not going down easily.
Greta grabbed her fallen oil lamp.
The dragon began to pace, smoke swirling around her nostrils as she turned on Elias. But the men moved too quickly,circling each other as a great gust of dragon fire swept across the cavern.
Alarik was thrown on to his back. Elias, who had been flattened against a nearby wall, regained his footing quicker. He leaped at the king, just as Greta lunged at him, swinging her oil lamp with reckless abandon.
It slammed into his temple.
