Page 131 of Clash of Storms
"This feels so strange," she said, trying to work out her human limbs again.
Tormund tossed Sirius his clothes and the sword he'd taken from the throne room. A blush crawled up Malin's cheeks as she glanced down at his cock, and from the way she dragged her long red-brown hair forward over her breasts, he knew she was distinctly aware of their nakedness.
He'd never grow tired of seeing those blushes.
"Lady Malin," he teased, as he hauled his trousers on, "are you propositioning me with those eyes?"
"There is a battle raging right behind you," she replied primly.
"And you're naked right in front of me. How could I concentrate on battle when I want to trace the extent of your blush with my tongue?"
"Behave," she chided, then bit her lip. "What am I going to wear?"
She'd burst out of her gown when she changed shapes, and the remnants were long gone.
Averting his eyes, the enormous Norseman stripped his shirt off, and handed it to Malin. The shirt looked like it would hang to her knees, but she instantly seemed more comfortable, and perhaps Sirius wouldn't have to kill him, after all.
Though he didn't particularly care to see her wearing another man's shirt.
Another man's scent.
"You're wearing mine," he said abruptly, tearing it from her fingers and offering his.
The littledrekirolled her eyes at him, but accepted the exchange. "Only as long as you accept a rune of protection from me."
She sliced the fleshy pad of her palm with his sword and used her blood to paint a strange rune on his chest. Sirius arched a brow. "Is this anelvishrune? You do realize they're the enemy?"
"Their runes work," she retorted. "This shall protect you against the queen's Chaos magic, if I craft it correctly. Now be quiet." She began to chant under her breath as she traced the rune, the foreign words tripping off her tongue.
A shiver ran through him, and it almost felt as if her blood sank through the top layer of his skin.
"Did it work?" she asked.
"I guess we'll find out. Now remain close to me," he told Malin. "But stay out of the fight."
* * *
Light glitteredoff an enormous warrior across the field from Sirius.
He recognized his father's dark hair, sunlight refracting back off the golden coat of chainmail Stellan wore, that had been taken from Fáfnir's treasure. He wieldedDáinsleif, the dwarven-forged sword that, once drawn, must cause a man's death. A single wound from that blade would not heal.
Cheating, even to the end.
Prince Rurik fought valiantly, but the air whined as if cut with every single blow Stellan flung about him. As Sirius watched, Rurik's shield crumpled beneath a monstrous swing, and the prince fell back.
Sirius tensed. Kill his father and save the prince?
Or slay the queen?
As if to make his decision for him, Árdís went to her knees in front of him, crying out in anguish as her husband tried to help her stand. The green spirit form she wielded against her mother was flickering in and out, burdened by some sort of golden chains the queen had thrown at it.
If he killed the queen, then Stellan would feel it.
Remove her magic from the battle, and it would even the playing field.
Not to mention a certain promise he'd made before the Goddess.
"Hold him off,"he sent to Rurik, and started stalking toward the queen, the storm rumbling behind him."I'll take your mother out of the fight."
