“The fighting though? What do you do now, just training?”
I grunt in dismissive agreement. He’s not wrong.
I like living in Vernallis—it’s not goddamn cold all the time for one thing, and my friends are all there. I like training the army. I like…other things. Still, I do sometimes wish that Daemon was more of a Warhawk.
I wanted to attack Hydratta last year when their king kidnapped Odessa and Kastian. Our army wasn’t ready for a war and it certainly wouldn’t have been an easy fight, but we could have won. But once it was clear that both Kas and Dessa were fine, Daemon and Alix didn’t think the loss of life was worth it anymore. If it were up to me, Hydratta would be part of Vernallisby now—I suppose that’s why they’re the king and queen and I’m just the commander of the army.
We’ve been walking for about an hour when Kai gives a silent command to the scout, Mynthe. She immediately stops to strip off her armor, before shifting into a medium-sized russet collared Wolf, and running ahead to scout the landscape. Without missing a beat, Gunnar grabs Mynthe’s armor and weapons off the ground, struggling under their weight. I’m tempted to offer to carry them instead, but I wouldn’t be doing the kid any favors.
It doesn’t take long before a flash of russet fur darts between the trees, and Mynthe returns, muzzle dripping with snow, yellow eyes locked on Kai. I hear her voice in my head as clearly as if she were speaking out loud.“Two adolescent wyvern are sleeping in the sun on that hill. The larger male isn’t there.”
Kai’s jaw tightens, the scar tissue on his face pulling white against the strain. His eyes dart between the trees, scanning the shadows as his hand drifts to the hilt of his sword.“Eyes up, the male could be anywhere.”
Kai follows Mynthe, still in wolf form, out of the woods. We all trail behind them up a sloping hill which gives way to a rocky incline. The snow is thinner here, barely covering the jutting stone, letting us scramble upward on two feet instead of four. Ahead of me, Luka’s armor clinks softly against the rocks as he climbs, while behind me, I hear Gunnar’s labored breathing as he struggles with the extra weight of Mynthe’s gear.
I reach the top of the ridge and freeze. Two wyverns lie coiled together on a sun-warmed rock, their scaled sides rising and falling with each deep breath. Kai raises his hand, signaling us all to stop. Then, he jerks his head toward me, his gaze never leaving the creatures as he draws his blade with excruciating slowness.
I understand immediately—I’ll take one wyvern, he’ll take the other. If we can reach them and sink our blades through their throats before they wake up, this could be over in minutes. We move forward in slow unison until we’re barely feet from the sleeping wyverns.
Suddenly, an arrow whistles past my ear and thuds into the nearest wyvern’s flank.What the fuck?
I barely have time to react before the beast’s eyes snap open, yellow slits widening in rage. It rears back, throat glowing orange-red, then belches a stream of liquid fire. I lunge sideways out of the path of the flames, but Kai is closer and can’t move fast enough.
I watch, frozen, as flames engulf the side of his face. His scream tears through the air as he staggers backward, hands clawing at his burning skin.
“Fuck!” I swear again, loudly this time.
I want to get to Kai and see if he’s alright, but I can’t reach him with the two wyverns in the way. I raise my blade and bring it down hard, catching the nearest one in the wing. It screams with pain and rage, but can’t get its wing free fast enough to take flight before Luka runs up beside me and hacks over and over into the wyverns’ side with his enormous axe. Black blood sprays everywhere, staining the rocks and patches of snow.
The other wyvern manages to get into the air, wings beating furiously as it climbs. I wish Aurelia were here to knock it out of the sky with her air magic—she’d have it pinned to the ground in seconds.
The wyvern swings around midair and dives. Without a plan or Kai to give orders, we scatter across the blood-spattered snow, all running in different directions.
I hear one of the women—Ilona—shouting at Gunnar. “Shoot it down! Now! Don’t let it dive again!”
I glance over my shoulder, and I’m unsurprised to see the boy frozen in place, his crossbow trembling in his white-knuckled grip. He was too quick on the trigger and might have gotten his alpha killed, and now he’s frozen with terror as the wyvern banks for another pass.
“Give me that,” I growl, lunging for the kid and ripping the crossbow and spare bolts from his hands. I spin and shove the bow into Ilona’s arms instead “You know how to use it?”
Ilona nods, looking relieved as she loads the crossbow, bracing it on her shoulder. She switches back to mind-speak.“Tell me when.”
I look back at the wyvern, squinting against the sun. It’s circling now, looking for an opportunity to dive. We can’t let it scatter us again, the chaos is almost worse than the beast itself.
“Break off!” I yell at Luka, my voice hoarse against the frigid air. “Draw it to you!”
Part of me is shocked when he doesn’t hesitate, and immediately sprints away from our group, his armor flashing in the winter sun as he waves his arms overhead, making himself the perfect target for the circling wyvern.
Sword raised, I backpedal across the bloody snow, positioning myself opposite from Luka. I blink against the bright sunlight until I catch the telltale hitch in its flight—the sudden tuck of one wing, the predatory drop of its head as it spots Luka below. Its body banks sharply, sunlight glinting off scales as it commits to the dive.
“Now,”I command.
Ilona exhales as she pulls the crossbow trigger and a bolt whistles through the air. I hold my breath until it punches through the leathery membrane with a wet thunk. The wyvern’s wing crumples mid-beat, sending it into a spiraling descent.
Its shriek vibrates in my chest as Luka throws himself sideways, snow spraying from his boots as the creature crashes where he’d stood heartbeats before.
I sprint across the blood-slick snow, boots skidding as I close in.
The wyvern’s yellow eyes lock onto mine, pupils narrowing to slits. My arms burn with the weight of my sword as I swing—steel whistling through frigid air before meeting scale, sinew, and finally bone with a wet, grinding resistance that travels up through my wrists and shoulders. Hot black blood sprays across my face, getting in my eyes and mouth.
