I watchin confusion as she points at certain riders and immediately their former allies turn on them. The attacked riders don't see it coming. One of them takes an arrow tothe throat from his companion. He clutches at the shaft, eyes wide with betrayal, then tumbles from his saddle. His wyvern circles around confused, looking for its fallen rider. It doesn't understand why its kind attacked. The creature's distress cry echoes across the burning city.
Fae warriors who moments ago flew in formation now loose arrows at each other. Wyverns clash in midair, their riders locked in deadly combat not with Svenn, but with their own kind.
The infighting spreads like wildfire through their ranks. Three wyvern riders break away from the main group, diving toward a single fae who flies alone beneath them. There's something different about the lone rider. His armor is finer and marked with Eirik's sigil.
A fae commander.
The three converge on him with vicious precision. He fights brilliantly, managing to wound one attacker and disable another's wyvern. I can see him trying to shield his beast with his own body as the attackers close in. There's something almost noble in the way he prioritizes his mount's safety over his own. But three against one in the air is impossible odds.
An arrow finds his shoulder, then another his thigh. The wyvern tries to protect its rider, but a blast of fire strikes its wing.
They hit the ground hard in a plume of ash and debris. The impact echoes across the ruined city. I run toward the crash site without thinking.
Coral bounds after me awkwardly, making distressed chirping sounds. The rational part of my mind screams that this is madness. I should be fleeing, not racing toward a fallen enemy commander. But something pulls me forward.
My boots crunch through ash and broken glass. The heat is worse here, closer to where the wyvern fell. I can feel it throughmy soles. I leap over a collapsed beam that's still smoldering. Coral keeps pace beside me, her size forcing her to scramble over obstacles I can vault. She knows this is dangerous. But she follows anyway.
I find them in a crater of disturbed earth and ash. The wyvern lies on her side, breathing heavily. Her wing is bent with the membrane torn and bleeding. The rider is tangled beneath her, one leg pinned under her massive flank. He's murmuring something in the old fae tongue, words of comfort as soft as a lullaby.
My dagger is in my hand before I fully realize I've drawn it.
This is one of them. One of the monsters who burned my kingdom, who slaughtered innocents. The rage that's been building since I stepped through that portal crystallizes into a single, burning desire for vengeance.
The fae commander's armor is dented, cracked in places. Blood seeps through the joints. His helmet has been knocked askew. His wyvern's golden eye locks on me, massive and slitted like a cat's.
He finally registers my presence. "Oh… it's you."
I know this voice.
He reaches up with his free hand and pulls off the helmet. His red hair falls loose and his blue eyes meet mine, sharp even through the pain.
Landon.
The Herald of the Wild Hunt.
This is the face of my kingdom's destruction, the herald who brought such terror to our lands. He led the forces that turned Aelfheim to ash. Thousands of my people are dead because of him.
"Your Highness," he says, and there's no mockery in it. Just exhaustion and pain.
My fingers tighten on the hilt. All I have to do is drive it forward. Into his neck. Between his ribs. Anywhere vital. One thrust and he's dead.
His wyvern makes a soft sound, almost a whimper. Her good wing stretches over Landon, trying to shield him despite her injuries.
Landon's hand moves to comfort Dorcha, stroking the scales between the wyvern's eyes. "If you're planning to kill me, at least release my wyvern first. Some wyverns can survive without their bond to their rider—"
"You did this." My voice doesn't sound like mine. "You burned my kingdom. You killed my people."
"Yes."
The fae gives no excuses or justifications, just simple acknowledgement.
"People lived here." I'm nearly shouting now, my control breaking. "Children. Families. People who never hurt anyone, who just wanted to live their lives. And you burned them."
He meets my gaze without flinching. Anger surges through my chest, hot and vicious. I want to drive this blade between his ribs and watch the light fade from those too-bright eyes.
The three riders who attacked him are circling back. I can hear their wyverns' wings beating against the smoky air. They'll be here in seconds. I could step aside, let them finish what they started.
But then I remember the moment in Avalon when he could have killed me and didn't. I drop to my knees and start cutting through the ropes tangling Landon and his wyvern. My hands shake with rage and confusion, but the blade is sharp. They are free from their bindings instantly.
