Page 32 of Storm of Fury
It was like staring into his mother’s face—his own face—though her ashen hair was far lighter than his.
The world seemed to suck at him, as if some sixth sense drew him toward her. Marduk couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. Instead, he lifted his hand toward her, gesturing for her to take it.
The strange woman eyed his hand with a flat expression. But her gaze returned to his face and she hesitantly began to lift her hand.
Their palms almost touched.
Only the bars of the cage kept them an inch apart, and he yearned to narrow that inch.
Instantly, the song roared through his ears as if someone had enhanced the volume. But worse, he could see the music in the air now, see the shimmering green strands that overlaid everything.
A thousand futures stretched before him.
A thousand pasts.
A thousand other worlds, all linked to this one with threads of virulent green Chaos.
It was too much for his mind to take in. Strain began to push behind his right eye, and he winced, trying to tear his hand back, but some strange magic kept him there, straining toward her, as if she could sense the lifeline he offered.
Marduk gasped as he wrenched himself backward. Instantly, she clenched her hand and pressed it to her temples as if she was drowning in the overwhelm again. He wanted to retch. Every inch of him shook. Mother Goddess, what was she?
Who was she?
Certainly not the soul mate he’d been expecting to find.
“Get away from her,” someone said sharply behind him.
Marduk whipped around, drawing his sword. He felt clumsy on his feet, his gut still heaving.
Torches flared to life along the walls as a trio ofdrekistrode toward him.
A tall, elegant woman wearing black leather armor led the way, her dark hair braided back and her eyes gleaming as blue as ice in the Arctic. She carried a spear carved of ebony, and gold rings dripped from her fingers. Every inch of her was cold and regal, and Goddess forsake him, but he could have sworn he recognized her.
Behind her stood twodrekiwarriors, though their hoods shielded their faces and something about their auras seemed wrong. The very shadows seemed to shrink away from them.
“What are you doing here?” the woman demanded. “How did you bypass my guards?”
Marduk considered his options. He wasn’t his brother Rurik, invulnerable and fierce, but he could fight if necessary.
But his gaze strayed to those shadows and the way even the flames seemed to dim as the largest warrior paused beside a torch.
This wasn’t the time to fight. Nor was it the time to flee.
He wanted answers.
“In my court,” he said, “we allow ladies to speak first. Who are you?”
“I am Zorja Ravenspire, Queen of theIkkibucourt. And you are trespassing where you do not belong.” The spear lowered, settling right in front of his heart.
But it wasn’t the weapon that gave him pause.
“Zorja,” he repeated.
The ruling queen of the Forbidden Court.
Son of a dragon.
None of this made any sense, least of all that name. But he hadn’t bothered to ask where he was. These last few nights he’d merely headed east, drawn by the growing song on the wind, barely aware of where he trespassed.
