“Stay by my side,” Azriel said, fist still raised and without looking at his wife. Doing so would be detrimental. He couldn’t focus on her, but neither could he allow himself to watch her go off on her own. Not again. Not when they wereso closeto completing the ritual together. “Don’t…leave me.”
This time, Ariadne’s words held no hesitation. “I promise.”
Her hand brushed against the back of his, and Azriel closed his eyes to inhale. Florals.
“Don’t underestimate their speed or strength,” Azriel said, and the words echoed back through the ranks in common, dhemon, and fae. “Rusans are just as lethal as Caersans in their own right. They lack healing and therefore train harder to not get injured.”
Boots took up a beat, the soft thudding of soles on dirt and grass rising in a steady rhythm. The same rhythm as the night he’d been named Dhemon King. It thundered through him like a drum—like a heartbeat. It enlivened him, as it appeared to do for the rest of his soldiers.
Another flash of crimson, closer this time. They couldn’t risk the Rusans setting up in advantageous positions, so Azriel flared his fingers and let his hand drop, pointing forward.
No words were needed. Dhemons, fae, lycans, and mages surged past. The air rushed, tousling the few hairs from his top knot that refused to stay in place into his face.
Sounds of battle rose almost immediately. Shouts. Orders. But others that he’d not grown accustomed to were tangled with those which he found most familiar. Snarls. Howls. Barks. Claws on cobblestones. The snap and crash of magic. It created a cacophony that grated on Azriel’s ears like nothing he’d heard before—not even in the Pits.
What he missed most as he and Ariadne started forward, at the rear of their army now, was the sound of wings. The screech of dragons. The thunderous roar of flames consuming everything in sight.
But Razer would not be leading any dragons, old or young, into the fight during the daylight hours. The greatest advantage for most was their stealth in the dark. Like his bondheart, several others who had agreed to fight bore dark scales and had been training for weeks to evade projectiles. Even the recent hatchlings were capable of fire already.
“I knew you missed me,” Razer said, sifting through Azriel’s thoughts like memos on a desk. “It’s about time you realized just how much you want me around.”
Azriel cursed under his breath. “Now is not the time.”
“I think it’s the perfect time.” Razer’s chipper mood conflicted with the sudden rush of panic as a crimson-clad soldier appeared on the far side of Ariadne.
Lifting his sword, he watched as his wife parried the soldier’s swing, twisted in a full circle, and slammed her elbow into the Rusan’s face. The vampire stumbled just enough for her to yank a dagger free from beneath her breast plate and lodge it in his neck. Blood gushed as she yanked the blade loose, rushing down her hand and arm.
“See?” Razer’s voice gave hints of laughter. “She’s fine.”
“You won’t be if you don’t shut up.”
A mental prod, then Razer huffed indignantly. “Tell me how wonderful it is to have me around.”
Another handful of soldiers rounded the corner. Azriel met the first with a heavy downstroke of his blade, taking the Rusan to the ground in one swing. The next dodged his attack as the third engaged with Ariadne.
This wasn’t good.
Keeping one eye on his wife, Azriel stepped back to bring the soldier who tried to stalk behind him back into view. He exchanged blows with the man and cursed as the fifth stalked around the far side of Ariadne in the hopes of gaining the advantage of her distraction.
“I’m waiting.” Razer prodded again.
“Fuckyou!” Azriel slammed back at his bondheart at the same moment his fist collided with the soldier’s jaw. As the vampire careened backwards, he swung his sword again, this time dislodging the man’s head from his body.
Razer snorted. “That was unnecessary.”
“Go away.” Pivoting, Azriel slipped between Ariadne and the fifth soldier just as she tripped the man she faced and drove her sword through his throat.
The young Rusan he forced back from her widened his eyes in shock just before Azriel knocked the sword to the ground. He raised his hands in surrender. Had it been someone who had attempted to fight his wife fairly face-to-face, Azriel might’ve been merciful. He likely would’ve leaned in and told the vampire torun.
Instead, Azriel angled the sword and drove it up beneath the soldier’s armor into his chest cavity. A strangled gasp escaped the Rusan, and Azriel bared his fangs.
“He was surrendering,” Ariadne said as he ripped the sword free. “I thought we were letting them surrender.”
Azriel growled. “Not when they try to stab you in the back.”
In the brief lull in which he was able to catch his breath, Azriel silenced Razer’s incessant voice by shutting the dragon out of his mind. The last thing he needed was to lose his focus thanks to a bondheart that couldn’t stop yapping. Having Ariadne fighting by his side was enough of a distraction on its own.
When Ariadne did not look convinced by his reasoning for killing the soldier, Azriel said, “Maybe the next one.”
