Page 168 of Commanding Flame and Shield
“Get them out of here!” August bellowed towards us. Alec cleared the space between us in a handful of heartbeats. He scooped up Layla, and James, and led them back to drop them at our feet. He returned, and pulled Sam’s larger frame up from the ground, wiping the blood from his face before bringing him back too. He freed them of their binds, but I moved my attention back to the center of the valley.
“Don’t,” the word was barely even a whisper on my lips. Alec glanced to me, but kept his attention on Sam, as if tending to a wound. Explaining the delay.
My eyes locked on tiny Freya, still standing tall, defiant. Short Auburn hair whipping in the breeze like a flag, she stood toe to toe with the giants around them. August strode forward and untied the ropes binding her trembling hands. She finally freed herself from her gag, scrunching her face up in relief, and then threw her slender arms around his neck. She seemed to sob as they embraced. Freya’s wrists were an angry purple, and she buried herself against her big brother for a moment, ignoring the monsters’ commands to move.
All my anger, all of that fire slamming itself against my skin, was funneled into the roar that erupted from me, feral and promising death. The souls echoed Aren’s own snarl as it rumbled against me. My smile grew savage as the demons and blood wolves hurtled for me, and Adrastos' eyes followed. Aren knew. Sensed it or scented it, I didn’t care. He released me, and I unleashed myself into our enemies, knowing Alec and the Commander were on my heels.
But the demons and wolves were easy work, my eyes circling back to August and Freya. Freya, as her hands steadied, as she planted a kiss on his cheek. Freya, as she whispered something in his ear. Freya, as she slowly stepped away from her brother, and turned her attention to the giant.
And then the world went still, as she flashed a coy smile at Agamemnon, and drew her glorious fangs.
SEVENTY-ONE
BROKEN
AUGUST
Anger spasmed in my gut as I took in the livid bruise along her cheekbone. The blood and bruises lining her slender arms. The filthy fabric they’d used to gag her.
Freya stood, raising her chin in a glorious fuck-you kind of defiance towards the commands of the giants. A torturous mixture of pride and fear gripped me—pride that my baby sister had a pool of courage so abundant within her she dared to defy monsters. Dared to wrinkle her face in disgust as they spoke and yank her arm from their gargantuan hands. Her energy was enormous and electric, somehow bottled within the slight frame. Jesus, she was still just a kid.
But they had shown her no more mercy than an animal led to slaughter.
My blood boiled furiously against my skin. I stared down into the depthless black eyes of the more brutal of our enemies and reached forward to free her hands from the ropes that bound them.
The rope fell to the bloody earth, and my stomach turned at the furious color of the welts left on her wrists. She tore the filthy gag from her mouth, chucked it aside, and then threw herself against me. Wrapping her arms around my neck, she shuddered into me. But once she’d settled, her body stilled. She didn’t tremble, as I’d expected she would have. Steady. Breath easy. Each inhale felt oddly intentional, strength emanating from her. As though she was drawing in strength before she acted. Fear roiled in my gut. Fear for what they’d do to her if she made to resist this bargain.
She nearly growled when Adrastos barked for us to separate, and then she turned her face to mine, planting a quick kiss against my cheek. In the same terrifying moment, I heard Alvara’s curdling scream for me, louder than ever. When I looked up, I found her heaving against Aren, and she seemed to burn his hand around her, as he recoiled, and she yanked free from his grasp. In a blur of fury and metal, she threw herself into the demonic line of defense in front of them, and the four cloaked demons fell to their knees as their skeletal heads toppled to the ground. As if she had sliced through them all in one brutal swing.
Fighting erupted anew. The wolves lunged for Ally, and Adrastos dove into the chaos towards her, the cloaked demons flanking him. Aren and Alec rushed into the demons before them. There was an outburst of screams, snarls, bays, and shouts, and Agamemnon turned his attention to their greatest threat.
But Freya held my focus, as she was whispering in my ear, and the words set the hair on my arms on edge.
“It’s been too long, your majesty. Move when I do. Deal?” Something hard and chilled pressed into my hands, and I realized Freya had pressed the hilt of a blade into my palm. Something in the way she said the words eerily resonated, despite the way my brain recoiled. In a heartbeat, I decided not to question her, as she effortlessly pulled herself from my death grip. In the next, Freya flashed a mischievous smile at the monster, and my breath caught. The fact that she had drawn fangs…that she wasone of us…had barely registered before she dove towards Agamemnon, a blur in the night.
He staggered backwards in shock, but he was too slow. In one motion, Freya had thrown her tiny body around his back, and pierced his meaty neck with her long teeth.
Protective instincts had me hurling towards Agamemnon and Freya. They were still grappling with each other as the monster roared his indignation and made to flip her off his back.
She had her hands around him in a near choke hold, legs wrapped tightly around his torso, fangs still sunk deep in his flesh. The cruel face was twisted in outrage, pain and shock, and I lunged forward with the blade she had slipped me. He parried the attack and brought his sword down against the dagger. It took all my strength, and both hands to force back his wallop. He threw his body forward in a violent lurch, tossing Freya from his back. The motion yanked a bellow of agony from him, as she tore muscle clean from his shoulder. The wound poured a wave of dark blood down his body, reeking of decay.
I couldn’t help but stare, bewildered, as the young woman I thought was my gentle baby sister pulled another knife from under her blood-spattered blouse. When in the hell had she managed to take them? She turned her face to spit his filthy blood to the ground and wiped her arm across her face. Snarling a feral, horrifying noise, Freya bared her teeth at the monster. Her eyes darted to me, and she jerked her head behind me before lunging for Agamemnon.
I whirled just in time to dodge the blade of one of his soldiers. Lightning fast, I slid downward and sliced the dagger across his knees, before stabbing the blade through his Achilles. He roared as he fell, and the sound cut off with a sickening gurgle as I sliced his throat. In a frantic attempt to stop the bleeding, the monster dropped his sword, and it clanged against rock. He held his enormous hand to the wound as he fell to the ground. I swiped the weapon, and then whirled back to Freya and Agamemnon, still engaged in a bloody duel as the battle continued to explode around them.
Freya was merciless in her assault on the monster, and he returned the fury as he brought the full weight of his arm down relentlessly, leaving Freya the briefest seconds of recoup between each blow. She snarled defiantly, arms trembling under the effort of blocking his attacks. I quickly weighed the dagger in my hand—studying the balance. These were Renown blades. Which likely meant they were poisoned or enchanted. Freya saw the movement and dropped to her knees. A flash of victory twisted Agamemnon’s cruel features, until my blade sunk into his chest with a meaty thud.
He staggered.
Yanking the blade from his chest, Agamemnon roared his anger. The sound was echoed by his soldiers, and my eyes had only a second to assess the chaos before he advanced. I couldn’t tell where Alvara was. Couldn’t spot Aren or Alec. And then we were dancing, swords clashing. Freya lowered into a crouch, head cocked to the side, analyzing the giant. Teeth bared like an animal. Dagger clutched defensively in her right hand.
I circled the giant and assessed him. He was losing blood from the two wounds at an encouraging rate, his teeth bared either in anger or pain. The wound from the blade shouldn’t seal if we kept him on his feet, if Alvara and Aren’s dire injuries were any indication.
“Once I’ve gutted you,” Agamemnon growled, “the bitch is next.”
I knew he meant Alvara. The growl in my chest was low, but enough to bring light to his eyes. He anticipated the fight. Lived for it. A sadistic warrior to his core.
I wouldn’t grant him the satisfaction.
