Page 92 of Clash of Storms
"I wasn't going to hurt her, Árdís!" he bellowed as the princess swooped in a tight circle.
The otherdrekilanded behind them, and Malin's gaze darted toward the prince. His enormous amber eyes were narrowed with hate, and suddenly it all made sense. This wasn't just about twodrekimales raised in bitter competition. Sirius had played a direct part in Rurik's exile.
Rurik's lungs expanded, and Malin remembered everything she'd heard about the prince.
He could breathe fire.
And suddenly none of it mattered.
"No!" Malin leaped in front of Sirius before he could stop her, throwing her arms wide in a foolish attempt to save him.
He hauled her out of the way, and Malin held her breathe, waiting for a death that never came.
A gold shimmer swept over the mighty prince as he shifted into mortal shape.
Sirius tensed at her side, trying to keep an eye on both Rurik and the princess, who'd landed behind them. Malin could barely breathe. The prince. She was actually going to meet the prince. She would have been almost giddy at the thought, if it wasn't for the sudden intense glare the pair of princes exchanged. Anyone stepping between them would be practically incinerated.
This might not end well....
"You dare walk these lands?" Rurik asked, straightening out of his crouch.
Sirius tipped his head toward the standing stones. "I'm not in your lands."
Rurik picked up the bag he'd dropped and dragged out a pair of leather trousers.
"Semantics," he snapped. "You had better have a damned good reason for being here."
"Couldn't I have simply missed my cousin?"
Cursed territorial males. Malin dug her elbow into his side as the prince strode toward them, shirtless and somehow still regal.
Rurik the Gold. Rurik the Honorable. Rurik Fireheart.
The crown prince. The banished heir.
The leader all her people spoke of.
He was—
The breath choked off in her lungs as she made an abrupt curtsy.
Golden hair swept back from Rurik's forehead, a lock of it tumbling over his amber eyes. He was slightly taller than Sirius, though his body was leaner, his skin tanned a beautiful golden color all over. He looked like a god given form. Like a hero of old, requiring only a single sword to take back his realm.
He looked like every hope her people had ever had, molded into flesh itself.
And he was glaring fiercely at her protector.
"My prince." Malin nearly fell on her face as she rose from her curtsy. "Please don't burn Sirius alive. He's not quite as stupid as his loose mouth would suggest, and I owe him my life."
"If you bat your eyelashes at him, I swear I shall throw you over my shoulder and dump you in the nearest pool of stagnant water,"Sirius growled at her, mind-to-mind."And I don't care whether Rurik challenges me for it or not."
Malin wasn't strong enough to return the psychic connection without linking with him. Damn him. She wasn't batting her eyelashes at the prince!
And if he thought he was going to lay hands upon her without losing at least a finger, then he had another think coming.
“Go ahead,”he dared her with an arch of his brow.
"Árdís," Rurik warned.
