“Reason.” Vhox lifted her lip in a sneer. “Youare the one who taught mereason.”
A murmur of agreement from the dhemons as they crept closer, muffled by the snow. Madan knew just what level ofreasonshe referred to, and it was the same that he’d fed to all of his followers. To them, it was reasonable to take an eye for an eye and spill the blood of vampires to satiate their own need for revenge. It was the same reason that he’d once felt as he was raised by the Crowe to hate his own people.
With his earliest memories including Markus murdering his mother, Madan never questioned it until he and Azriel went to live amongst the vampires.
“You were taught the reasoning of a madman.” Ehrun signaled to the dragons above with his mind. “If you choose to continue to follow what I said before without listening now, then you are lost to us and to Keon.”
Vhox laughed heartlessly. “Keon wants them dead.”
Above them, Sehrox and Brutis lowered, billowing snow with every down-draft of their wings. Nhosja tucked her nose behind Vhox, heat rising from her nostrils, and though Madan didn’t hear anything from the dragon, he also didn’t sense any more hostility from her despite her first words to them.
Stepping back, Whelan jumped to gain a hold on Brutis so he could pull Madan up behind him.
But Madan hesitated. He stared at Vhox before saying, “Does holding onto such hate not hurt?”
“Are all vampires as stupid as you?” Vhox snarled. “I don’t hold onto hate—it’s what keeps me focused, and this traitor can say all he wants, but I’ll never march beneath a half-breed’s banner.”
“Vhox,” Nhosja cautioned. “Perhaps we should listen to them.”
“I would rather die.” Vhox pulled a long, wicked blade from the sheath at her hip.
The silver dragon shifted, barely visible in the tumultuous snow. Only emerald eyes seemed to pierce through the haze. “If we fight with them,you get to kill vampiresandwe are more likely to gain peace to avoid further bloodshed.Is that not what you want?”
Something shifted in Vhox’s eyes at that, and she slid her attention to Madan. She seethed silently and Madan took a step away, not turning his back to the dhemon as he mentally searched for Brutis to guide him backwards.
Then she swung the blade. Madan’s boots slipped in the snow as he tried to lurch away from the sudden attack. Everything slowed as the sword careened for his neck. His breath caught and arms wheeled to maintain balance. Above him, Whelan screamed his name and Brutis roared, lighting the sky with flames.
But it was neither of them who caught the sharp blade with a bare hand inches from his throat. Blood sprayed from Ehrun’s palm as he blocked the strike, forcing the momentum upwards so that the razor-like edge slid across Madan’s ear and cheek instead. Heat flared from the wounds, but more so from the surge of fury—from himself, from Whelan, from Brutis and Oria and even Sehrox for his own bondheart’s injuries.
“We came here inpeace,” Ehrun snarled as claws wrapped around Madan and yanked him into the air. “I spoke of a way toendthis gods forsaken war, and you retaliate with violence against a man who has not only shown mercy, but kindness to those who rejected him?”
“Leave,” Nhosja said, knocking Vhox aside with her nose. The dhemon stumbled through the snow before slipping and falling to a knee. “I will bring any here who wish to fight with you.”
Vhox gaped at her bondheart. “You wouldn’t leave me.”
A chittering laugh from the dragon. “I will help my friends with or without you.”
Distance grew between Madan and the dhemons below as Brutis lifted higher into the sky. Before long, they were lost entirely amidst the swirling snow.
“Take me back,” Whelan demanded as Oria rose into the sky with them, Sasja trying to shout over the wind at them.
“Do not take him back,” Madan said and brought his hand up to his bleeding face as he teetered in his dragon’s grip. It was a completely undignified way to fly, yet he wasn’t mad at Brutis for keeping him safe.
“Oh,” Brutis said, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
They flew until they located a ridge that blocked the greatest gusts of wind. Brutis dropped Madan into the snow there before landing to allow Whelan to dismount and slide over the slick rocks to push Madan’s hair away from the already-healing wounds. He muttered curses under his breath as his fingers grazed the edges of the cuts.
“I’m fine.” Madan tried to push his hand away only to be met with a warning glare.
“Almost your entire fucking ear is gone.”
Great. As if it wasn’t enough to be missing his arm, now he’d have to live with whatever taunts came with half an ear. “I’ll live.”
“I will kill her,” Whelan swore in the dhemon tongue. “I will rip her fucking head off.”
“That is a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” Sasja asked as she approached to eye the wounds as well. Like Whelan, she lifted Madan’s curls and inspected the area. “He’s almost healed as it is.”
Whelan seethed. “She tried to kill him.”
