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“There’s nothing we can do. Silver—”
“What will you do now, Drak?” Silver responded. Although I couldn’t see her, the sound of her voice made me flinch and shrink like a child facing an abusive father. “The king dies again.”
“You’re bleeding,” Lux said to her. “Save your energy.”
“Drakkar.” Silver ignored her, and her voice dripped with that taunting venom again. I wouldn’t have the power to resist it. “Push harder.”
Lux grunted, fighting my strength as I tried to push the dagger deeper. I noted the sweat beading on her brow, soaking her braid, and the open wounds on her arms. I squeezed my eyes shut and channeled the last bit of energy I had to fight off the compulsion. We became deadlocked, with our hands on the dagger and Silver free to fuck with us.
This was my end. The second one or both of us waned in strength—when the surge of battle-driven energy subsided—compulsion would win.
I didn’t want to die like this. In Lux’s arms, I couldn’t ask for more during my final breaths, but these were the arms of my wife, bloodied and bruised and broken because of me. I refused to give in to the release of death and the release of this agony until I knew she was okay.
Until I promised to find her again, in the next life, because this life was over for me. It was short and so sweet, having spent most of the last sixty-nine days from resurrection to death with her.
“Skald, baby, I’m sorry for hurting you.” I licked my lips, the sweet flavor of blood on them. My own blood tasted too good, and that sickened me even more. The shattered parts of me remained. “I’ll build you that library on our farm, but it’ll have to be in the next life. I need to tell you that before I…” I drew another agonizing breath. Closing my eyes, I soaked in the steady sound of her breathing. In this moment of peace, my thoughts sharpened, and the truth hit me with more force than any weapon. I wouldn’t survive this, but Lux could still claim victory over her sister with the help of those she could call upon. Lux didn’t have the practice and power yet to reach the other gods, but she held command over someone else who would keep her safe.
Maybe then, knowing my wife got help and escaped torment, my death would be worth it. “Lux,” I whispered. “Tell me the saga of the Valkyries.”
Lux
My worst fear unfolded before me. A fear I didn’t even know my nerves harbored, because I didn’t see this coming. None of us did. For all the foresight in the world, I ignored the most frightening truth of all: restoring his soul didn’t fully free Drak from his maker.
Even Odin’s powers couldn’t fully erase a vampire. I’d hoped Drak’s cravings—the cracks—were superficial or only a traumatic memory, not a weapon for Silver to exploit.
I bit my lip and grunted as the pressure of Drak’s strength bore the blade deeper. It only sank a fraction deeper, but he flinched, and my well of tears flooded with the fear of losing him again.
Only our combined strength, his resistance to Silver’s compulsion, and all of my effort kept the dagger from puncturing his heart.
“What did you say?” I asked.
“The Valkyries,” he breathed. “Tell me about how Odin commands them.” My brow furrowed. Why did he want me to focus on a saga right now? Odin was definitely not something Drak wanted to hear about when his life was ending.
Which meant it was a hint.
My gaze flickered to Silver. My sister stood back from us now, with her attention rooted in compulsion. Blood vessels bulged in her throat, and her eyes narrowed. Her breath strained, either from the effort of compulsion or the wound seeping blood from her side.
Killing the king, my husband, was all that mattered to her right now. If she understood whatever Drak wanted me to do, she gave no indication.
A sickening gurgle came from his throat. Blood surrounded us—mine, his, Silver’s. I alone would survive today, and only because of my role as Odin.
“Push harder!” Silver’s screech rivaled the deafening crash of steel, the screams of dying villagers, and the sound of vampires hissing. Those left anyway. Our overwhelming number was our only hope—Vylheim, the people who had come to respect and revere Drak as their king after he broke the Blood Council. Because of him, they had a reprieve from the slaughter enacted by executioners. Because of him, they finally had access to the histories again. Because of him, they showed up, fought to their deaths, unaware that he’d fallen too.
“Skald,” he grunted. His eyes rolled up from the dagger, locking with mine and completely capturing my attention with just one look. That same look he’d given me outside our farmhouse. “Remember what I said: if I die today, I’ll have you killed by him.”
His words triggered understanding. “Soren.”
He closed his eyes as his resistance wavered. The dagger slipped deeper, and a cry ripped from my throat.
I’d been calling on the wrong person. Hel wouldn’t help me with Silver’s tainted soul, but Soren was bound to my word.
“Call for him,” he said. “He’s here. He came with me.”
“Soren!” I screamed, wasting no time. “Soren, heed Odin’s call.”
Silver laughed. “Soren? As in the castle’s thief?”
“She doesn’t know?” I whispered. Drak couldn’t respond, but the twitch of his lips answered for him. Childhood friends or not, Silver didn’t understand the depth of Soren’s abilities. He remained a secret, even from her.
