Page 133 of Master of Storms
Marduk had been a roguish youngdrekimale newly arrived at her court, but there’d been dozens like him in the past, and her senses had never been set off like that with them. No, the moment she saw him, it had sent a shiver down her spine, like claws scratching over slate.
A feeling that something was wrong—something profoundly upsetting for her equilibrium that she’d never been able to slake. She’d wanted him out of her territory. Out of her life. And yet, the second he’d done so, some part of her had been screaming on the inside.
And that feeling hadn’t let up until several months ago, when rumors surfaced of a goldendrekiprince skirting the edges of her territory.
Despite every single logical thought telling her to let the past go, she hadn’t been able to curb the instinct to set Bryn Brightfeather hunting him. She’dneededto get her hands on him again.
Somehow.
And in her head, she’d called it revenge.
But what if it wasn’t?
Oh, gods. Solveig buried her face in her hands. This was the worst thing that could ever happen to her. “No, it’s not possible. I’dknow. And I don’t—I don’t wish for a true flame.Ever. No.”
“Solveig?” Árdís asked. “Are you all right?”
“Don’t tell him.” The words burst from her lips. “Please don’t tell him.”
“I won’t tell him. I promise. If he hasn’t figured it out yet, then he’s an idiot and he only has himself to blame. But….” Ardís sat on the edge of the chair, rubbing her back. “It’s not as bad as you might think. Actually, it’s quite delightful.”
“No.”
It was such an emphatic denial that the other woman reared back a little before sighing.
Solveig slowly toppled back onto the chair, running her hands through her hair.
Are you there?she whispered to herdreki.Is that what you’ve been trying to tell me?
There was no answer, but she could sense the unease within her.
Because there was one little problem with that scenario.
Perhaps it was true. Perhaps herdrekiwas recognizing its mate.
But if so, then it was very clear that Marduk did not feel the same.
* * *
The restof the group was plotting war in the throne room.
And so Ardís helped Solveig down the stairs before pausing in front of the doors to brush her skirts down. It wasn’t her preferred style, but she couldn’t wear her armored corset yet, and so they’d reached a compromise with the green gown.
“Perfect,” Ardís said. “You look like a queen.”
“I feel like I’m going to fall flat on my face.” This weakness was infuriating. She needed a minute to catch her breath after taking the damned stairs.
“Then take my arm,” Ardís replied. “We’ll enter together. If your knees start to shake, I’ll pretend to swoon.”
It felt strange to have a fellow conspirator. It was almost like havinganothersister.
And as Ardís strode forward and shoved the throne room doors open, Solveig realized that if anyone tried to harm her sister-in-law during the coming fight, then they were going to have to go through her.
If she could bloody well fight herself.
Draco and Andromeda sat at the head of the table, theZilittuking clad in harsh black leather, while his queen wore a white silk gown that Solveig approved of. His brother, Rune, and sister, Viveka, sat to either side of them, and their warlord, Talon, loomed behind them, one hand resting on his sword hilt as he leaned against the wall.
Across from Draco sat Rurik and his wife. Rurik watched Draco like one would watch a poisonous snake.
