Page 13 of Clash of Storms
Turning around, Sirius strode in the other direction, ignoring those of his fellowdrekiwho turned to speak to him.Not now. Warriors scattered when they saw his face, and Sirius damn near snarled at his half-brother, Roar, when the bastard dared step into his path.
"What's the rush?" Roar drawled, straightening his shoulders in some vain attempt to stand as equal, despite the inch between them. "I thought you ought to be celebrating. You've just won a princess."
"And I thought you threatened to try and take her from me." Sirius stepped closer, letting all the anger and rage he felt seep to the surface. "If you want to challenge me for Árdís's hand, you're quite welcome. I would relish the opportunity."
Sirius focused all his thwarted rage on Roar. He'd been a drekling boy found sniveling on the slopes of Hekla over forty years ago; an unspeakable blemish on their father's behalf. Stellan considered dreklings and humans beneath him, and yet he'd clearly lain with one.
It had been King Reynar who'd insisted all drekling were welcome at court—including his brother-in-law's by-blow.
Sirius could still remember the look on his father's face as the king forced his hand. Sirius's sympathies had originally lain with the boy, for Stellan made those first few years as difficult as they could be for Roar.
But the drekling didn't just bear Stellan's blood.
No. He alone seemed to have inherited all their father's worst tendencies. And when Roar finally managed to shift and be nameddreki, he'd made it clear he didn't intend to show any mercy to his former drekling brethren. Whether it was some misguided attempt to win their father's favor, or whether he despised the reminder of where he'd come from, Roar showed an inclination toward cruelty that Sirius despised.
If he weren't certain Roar would abuse his power if he mated with Árdís in Sirius's stead, he might even have been tempted to step aside.
"Oh, I'd love to challenge you." Roar's smile never faded as he brushed dust off Sirius's shoulder. "Alas, Father forbade it. In the wake of Magnus's death, you're the favorite." Leaning closer, his breath reeking of onions, he whispered, "But if you ever decide to displease him,dolet me know."
Sirius snatched Roar's wrist and forced it away from him. "Likewise. He seems to want you breathing."
"Well, I guess there's only two of us now. He cannot afford to lose another son."
Rage burst its banks, and when Sirius blinked, Roar was smashed against the wall and both of his fists were curled in Roar's coat.
"You arenotmy brother," he breathed. Roar made sure of that many years ago. Sirius gave his trust once, and once only. "My only brother lies broken and bleeding in his rooms, and I will do anything to protect him. You are a stain on this family's bloodlines. And the second I get a chance I will remove it."
Shoving away, he turned toward Andri's rooms.
"Give my regards to Andri," Roar called. "He got blood all over my new boots. I haven't taken him to task yet for that."
That was it. Sirius turned, but Roar was giving a faint, mocking bow, and over his bent spine Sirius could just make out his father's door opening.
Remember what you promised.
Killing Roar would be enjoyable, but the cost would be astronomical.
Squeezing his fingers into a tight fist, Sirius stalked away. It wasn't until he was standing before Andri's room—or cell, if one was being particular—that he could breathe easier.
Sirius broached the door to his brother's room and crossed to stand by the bed. He needed to remind himself of what he fought for. Andri still hadn't woken from the coma he'd been in since he returned with news of Magnus's death, though the bruises were fading from his skin. Finally.
His father had told the court their precious Prince Rurik had beaten the boy half to death, but Sirius knew the truth. A month ago Stellan had sent Andri and Magnus to confront Rurik and kill him. Treachery wasn't in Andri's nature—of all four of Stellan's offspring, he alone bore no stain upon his hands. He'd refused to attack Rurik from behind, and when the prince killed Magnus, Andri had worn the blame for it in Stellan's eyes.
Sirius tucked the blankets up higher, testing his brother's temperature. Andri didn't move, still in the healing sleep.
Sirius eased onto his usual chair by the bed and sank his head into his hands. "What am I supposed to do, Andri? Unless the princess reneges, tomorrow I am bound by my word to mate with her."
He could still see the anger on Malin's face.I could only despise a man who flirts with one woman while sworn to another....
Still feel the tremble beneath her skin when he captured her arm.
He couldn't have her. He'd always known that. He'd spent years avoiding her. Years watching from a distance, curious about this gift the Goddess had given him.
He'd been so furious at first. It wasn't Malin's drekling state that insulted him, but the meek and timid nature of the woman herself. He'd always dreamed of a lioness, a warrior, a flame so bright his mate could stand toe-to-toe with a male like him and not flinch.
Instead, he'd been given a young drekling woman who curtsied and whispered and barely dared look him in the eye. It didn't matter what he said, she stared right at his boots, no matter how he provoked her.
"Yes, my prince."
