Page 48 of Soul of Fire

“No, you thought it was a punishment.” My father laughed and drained his second glass. “But I knew if you could survive Ironholm—if you could bond that dragon of yours—that you would be a force to be reckoned with. A king with blood of both wolf and dragon.”

My stomach dropped to my feet, and I gripped the back of the chair to steady myself. “Edvard is to be king. I signed away that birthright at your behest.”

“Because it was required by the jarls.” He waved his hand as if this were merely an inconvenience. “They did not wish to bow to a king who was also a dragon. They wish a chance to inherit the throne for their own clans by wedding their daughters to Edvard.”

He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, looking more eager than I had ever seen him. “But contracts signed on paper can easily burn, as you well know.”

I kept my face as impassive as I could, despite my thundering heartbeat. “You would have me rule over a wasteland. None of the jarls would stand for such a thing.”

“Probably not.” My father smirked and sat back in his chair, his expression difficult to read. I thought perhaps it was pride, which made me feel sick. “Which is why you must win me this war.”

He stood and tapped on the map, on the tiny stone dragon poised at the edge of the fae lands.

“Edvard’s cruelty hides a coward’s heart, and the jarls know it. The moment he tries to take the crown, they will depose him. And then there will be another war the likes of which this continent hasn’t seen since the Wolf King himself. Thousands will die. But you…” He looked up, his eyes hard-edged steel.

“You will wed your woman. You will bed her and put a child in her. And then you will take your drage and win us more land, so thatwhenI name you as my restored heir, the jarls will have no choice but to bow or burn.”

I didn’t bother correcting him about the chances of Eisa and I producing a child. The entire scheme was too horrifying to properly process, but I managed to keep my blank mask in place. “And if I refuse?”

My father smiled faintly, as if he’d known I would ask. “Then I will find another way to motivate you.” He moved another stone piece across the map to join the dragon. “Or I will find another Dragehersker who will do as I command.”

My blood ran cold at the implied threat, and my father sat back in his chair, his victory complete. “Now. Tell me about the Rift.”

Chapter fifteen

Eisa

“I’msorry,hewantsyou to do what?”

It was Branka who asked the question as we gathered around the table in the sitting room with Arne the next morning for our own small council of war.

I had slept for a day. The ache was still a dull throb when I woke with Arik’s arms wrapped around me, his hand pressing delicious warmth into my abdomen.

I fidgeted uncomfortably in the wooden chair, the cotton rags Branka procured for me bulky and uncomfortable beneath me.

Do you need to lie down, Kjære?Arik stroked a thumb over my lower back, and I could feel the warm pulse of Baldur’s magic as he shared his power. It didn’t take away my pain entirely or stop the bleeding, but we had discovered it took the edge off enough that I could function.

I’m fine, and stop that. You’ll use up all your magic on me.

Arik shot me a wry look, his brow raised in exasperation.You are a worthy cause.

“Hello, lovebirds, we’re still here!” Branka snapped. “He wants us to invade the fae lands?”

Arik and Arne had already told Jorgen about the Althing last night. They’d stayed up far too late drinking too much wine and trying to come up with a way to stop the king’s mad plan.

Branka’s reaction was a mirror of my own.

“And be king,” Jorgen reminded her, yawning and popping a grape into his mouth. “Don’t forget that pleasant nugget.”

I’m withering away,Idunn whined irritably. My appetite had finally returned somewhat, and I had dared to stop eating for a whole minute.I am hungry and I hurt. I do not think I like sharing a mortal body after all.

You enjoyed it well enough the night before this,I reminded her, feeling heat of a different sort creep up my body at the memory of Arik beneath me, writhing at my mercy.

Hearthmother save me, now was not the time to be thinking about Arik’s naked body.

“I’m not going to be king,” Arik declared, his face impassive. “Nor are we invading the fae lands. It would be suicide, and we barely have enough drage to hold back the odemarksdyr as it is.”

“And how exactly are ye going to avoid it, lad?” Arne asked. He looked as tired as Arik and Jorgen did, dark shadows purpling his eyes, which were a duller shade of green than when I last saw him.