Page 4 of Clash of Storms
Sirius slowly pushed his brother's hand away and stepped back to put some distance between them before this turned deadly.
They'd never been friends—competitors who stood side by side occasionally, should the need arise—but somehow the pair of them had managed to sidestep each other all these years.
His brother was the most formidabledrekimale at court, carving a swathe through challengers to see himself head of the unspoken court ranking.
But both of them knew what Sirius could do with his powers.
Magnus had never dared challenge him directly, and Sirius had never given him reason to. A fight between the two of them could tear half the court to pieces.
But he could see the rage firing in his brother's eyes.
"We don't hit women," Sirius said softly.
"She's a drekling, brother. She's nothing."
He had to salvage this somehow. If Magnus guessed what had driven him to move before he even thought, there would be blood spilled. Sirius would have stood against the blow, regardless of whether the girl was his mate or not, but he'd moved so quickly.... And the rage pouring off him—it was taking everything he had not to tear his brother's throat out. Magnus might begin to question his sudden fury. "It doesn't matter. The fault was mine."
"Not in front of Harald and his daughters,"he sent, hoping to reach Magnus where nothing else would.
His brother was nothing if not vindictive.
Magnus would seek the girl out if he couldn't be distracted.
"But if you want someone to take offense with, I'm right here."Sirius spread his arms, his feet settling in a slightly defensive stance.
And he smiled his most unsettling smile, letting Magnus see the challenge in his eyes. Released the reins just a little so the furious mating urge of thedrekiwould show in his eyes, demanding blood.
"Hardly the time.Brother," Magnus spat, gesturing with his wine-soaked hand and seething with rage. He stepped closer, and Sirius tensed as they stood face-to-face. "You deal with it if you're so enamored of protecting drekling. Father's right. They should have been culled. They are not worthy of the Goddess's gift."
Visibly seething with rage, Magnus quit the gathering, stalking toward the court as if to change his clothes.
To stand there and allow the challenge to go unanswered took everything Sirius had. Particularly withherso close to him. He barely dared breathe, lest the drekling's scent overwhelm him.
Lest it confirm his worst suspicions.
"What anintriguingencounter," said Princess Solveig, but her charms had lessened with the shocking blow of his mate's true identity.
He turned on the girl.
"What's your name?"
The drekling cowered. "M-Malin. I'm so sorry, Your Highness. I didn't mean to spill the wine."
"I've never seen you before."
"I'm new at court. My father gained me this position."
"Your father is one of the courtdreki?" He needed to know everything about her. "How old are you?"
"T-twenty. And yes, I am Malin Sigurdsdottir. I'm sorry. I wasn't—"
"Enough with your groveling, girl," Harald said. "Get out of here, before the prince returns."
Sigurdsdottir.
The Lore master. The one who reviled Sirius's father and thedrekiqueen, and every single one of theirZilittuinterlopers.
Including him.
