Chapter 26

 

Magnus woke the next morning to a soft tapping on the door. It was just light enough to make him doubt it actually happened, but the second one had him prying one eye open and squinting across the room.

His gaze automatically went to the figure tucked against his chest and the tiny fist loosely curled over his heart. Zara seemed not to have been disturbed by the sound.

“It’s Riley,” she mumbled groggily. “She wants to convince you to help her train.”

Magnus groaned. “Why me?”

“Because you’re the best.”

He peered down at the top of her blonde head. “Not if Octavian kills me for helping her.”

Zara lifted her face. Her chin rested on his chest.

“She’s going to need it.” Her expression softened. “Octavian doesn’t know it, but she will be fighting and you will be the deciding factor whether or not she lives.”

Magnus dropped back against the pillow and closed his eyes. “Why would you tell me that?”

Her shoulders trembled with her silent chuckle. “Because you’re a good man.”

“Since when?” He poked her in the side, making her jump. “What happened to my black soul?”

“I can hear you!” Riley shouted through the door.

“I’ll see you downstairs!” he yelled back.

Silence followed. He guessed she’d heard him.

“Your soul is still black,” Zara assured him.

“But?”

One shoulder lifted. “I might like it a little.”

Magnus pulled her beneath him and stretched out over her. His hips parted her thighs and he tucked himself between them. He studied her beautiful face.

“I don’t want you to be here when it all starts.”

Zara lowered her gaze. “I don’t think it will be safe anywhere.”

“I’ll find a place,” he promised.

“There is no such place.” She touched his cheek lightly. “Except with you.”

“I don’t know if I can do what needs to be done if I’m worried about you.”

Her smile poured through him as warm as sunshine. “You’ll worry about me?”

For a moment, he didn’t know what to say.

“You know I will,” he murmured at long last, accepting that baring his soul to her the previous day left very little room for concealing shit now. “All I’ll want to do is protect you.”

Her answer was the gentle glide of her fingers sifting through his hair to cup the back of his head. She drew him down to her.

Magnus sank into the embrace. He kept his weight elevated off her with his forearms, but he nuzzled the side of her neck and just let himself have that moment.

“Magnus?”

Her fingers skipped along the back of his neck and followed the bumpy path of his spinal column.

“Hmm?”

“There’s something I need to tell—”

Another knock sounded.

“Goddammit, Riley!”

“It’s Valkyrie. It’s your turn on patrol.”

Magnus sighed. “Can’t a guy get a few minutes alone?”

He climbed off Zara and padded to where he’d discarded his cargos the night before. He drew them on, on his way to answer.

Valkyrie stared back at him from a drawn, pale face. “Nothing to report,” she mumbled. “I’ll see you in six.”

With a nod, he shut the door and made his way back to the bed where Zara was sitting up, sheets to her chest.

“Don’t sit there like that,” he muttered. “It makes a man want to say screw it and join you.”

Her blush didn’t help. “I would like that, except...”

Another knock, the third in a matter of minutes.

“Jesus! What the fuck?”

He marched back to the door and threw it open. His snarl died in his throat when Agnus peeked up at him.

“Is this your room?”

Magnus frowned. “No, this is just where I decapitate people who keep knocking at my door.”

The girl raised her eyebrow. “Cool. I can totally see that.”

In the process of rolling his eyes, Magnus wasn’t quick enough to stop her from ducking past him.

“Hey, the porn star.”

“What’s a porn … oh!” Zara’s cheeks darkened. “Oh my.”

“What did I tell you about using that word when talking about my wife?”

“Wife?” The girl’s eyebrows migrated to her hairline. “What happened to kind of?”

“She’s my mate,” Magnus clarified.

“Yeah, I see that.” Her attention strayed away from Zara to the room itself. “So, this is nice. Tidy. A total serial killer room.”

Normally, he wasn’t much of a kid person. He could handle them in small doses, but that went for a lot of things. He just wasn’t built for patience. But he liked this kid. She was a snot and mouthy, but those were qualities he could relate to; it reminded him of Gideon.

“Was there something you needed?”

Agnus shrugged. “I wouldn’t say no to a tour of the dungeon.”

“We don’t have a dungeon.”

Her gray eyes squinted up at him. “What kind of people are you?”

“We don’t keep prisoners.” He stalked to the dresser and yanked out a t-shirt. “We just kill them.”

But the moment he said it, he thought of Devlin in the crawl space beneath the house. He inwardly grimaced, remembering his promise to Zara about asking for his release. He made a mental note to do that the next chance he got.

“Nice.” Agnus smirked at him and took another look over the room. “So, what happened to your face?”

He tugged the hem of the shirt over his cargos.

“Got distracted,”

It was the simplest explanation without going into details about Riley’s father selling his soul and becoming a forsaken.

“I thought maybe you pissed her off.” She nodded towards Zara. “Does she talk?”

“I do,” Zara stated through both their minds. The simple response reflected the amusement dancing in her eyes. “I’m Zara.”

“Agnus, and you’re totally in my head. Are you like Professor Xavier?”

Zara lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know who that is.”

Agnus seemed unperturbed by Zara’s lack of pop culture. “It’s cool.” She faced Magnus. “So, what you doin’?”

“Getting ready for patrol.”

He stalked to the closet and yanked open his cubby of weapons.

“Dude!” Agnus scurried over and poked her head around the doorframe to ogle his stash. “Can I—?”

“No!” Magnus smacked the back of her hand when she reached for a battle axe. “Don’t touch.”

“But—”

Magnus pulled out a pair of cigar cutters off a rack and held them in her face. “Know what this is?”

Agnus studied it a long moment, then him. “A cigar cutter?”

Crap, Magnus thought, glowering down at her.

“No, this is a finger chopper. You touch this closet and I’ll chop all the fingers on that hand off, one at a time. Then cauterize the wounds with a hot iron.”

“Jesus,” the girl muttered. “I’m just a kid. What’s the matter with you?”

He clicked the device once for emphasis. “Stay away from the closet.”

Agnus pursed her lips. “Psycho.” She ambled over to the bed and made herself at home on the end. The mattress bounced once with her weight. “Can I come on patrol with you?”

“No.” He stuffed a blade into his boot, another into his belt loop. “You can stay here with Zara.”

Agnus glanced back to where Zara still sat with just the sheets covering her nudity. “Is she going to get dressed first, because she’s making me uncomfortable?”

Magnus paused in tucking away a series of ninja stars into one of his pants pockets and shot her a dry frown. “She can talk, and hear you.”

“She’s adorable,” Zara decided.

“Adorable isn’t the word I’d use,” he grumbled back.

But she must have only said it in his head, because Agnus glanced between them curiously.

“Who’s adorable?”

Magnus strapped the sword across his back. “Apparently, she thinks you are. I think you might be the spawn of Satan.”

“My dad preferred Mr. Satan, thank you.”

In the process of adjusting the holster of his throwing knives more securely around his upper thigh, Magnus burst out laughing.

“You’re a shit.” He threw his coat on and tugged down the collars before turning to the two watching him. “Remind me to introduce you to Gideon.”

“Who’s Gideon?”

“My brother.”

He started towards the door, but his feet took a detour towards the bed. He circled around to Zara’s side.

Her face was already tilted to his when he reached her, but his fingers still gripped her chin, holding her in place when he settled his lips over hers.

“Can I come with you?” she asked when he began to pull away.

Magnus slipped his palm beneath her head and cradled her neck up. “No, not until we get an answer from Abraham. Stay away from the diner. Keep to the back of the house.”

Her delicate brows furrowed. “I don’t want to hide.”

“It’s not safe,” he told her. “I need you ... safe, Zara.” He kissed her again to silence her. “Get dressed. I’ll be back soon.”

Her fingertips skimmed his scarred face. “Be careful.”

Making no promises, he straightened and started to the other side. He ruffled Agnus’s hair in passing to the door.

He went out the backdoor, in no mood to be intercepted by anyone. He climbed the trellis to the roof and sat.

Magnus had always preferred the quiet of scouting, the solitariness of it, but for the life of him, he couldn’t concentrate. Every time his mind struggled to focus, a piece of his attention kept drifting to the woman below, snapping to attention at her every movement. There were at least thirty feet between them and a good three stories, yet he knew the moment she left the room and made her way downstairs with Agnus. He knew when she reached the diner.

“You’re not supposed to be there,” he mumbled through the link.

“I need food, and so does Agnus,” came her amused response.

Magnus grunted. “Hurry up. You’ve already been there too long.”

“We only just arrived.”

Her quiet laughter intertwined with the low buzz of chatter. The overlapping voices made him shift uncomfortably when he couldn’t hear Zara anymore.

“Where’s your door?” she teased. “Put me in the room with you.”

“I will in...” he checked his watch, “five hours and twenty-six minutes.”

Her laughter filled his head, stifling all the other voices. “Can I bring you food?”

“No.”

He could almost hear the roll of her eyes. “Riley is looking for you.”

He’d forgotten all about the redhead.

“Tell her I’ll see her when I get off.”

He could hear Zara talking to Riley, could hear both women’s thoughts jumbled with all the others in the room. Zara apologized, and Riley seemed to accept it.

Magnus twirled the arrow between his fingers. His gaze narrowed on the path. The early morning chill crept along his skin and snuck into his coat. He tugged the collar up, but that didn’t seem to matter.

“I can bring you coffee,” Zara said.

Magnus shook his head. “Stay in the house, Zara.”

“It’s fine,” she insisted. “I’d know if anyone was nearby. I’d sense them.”

“Not demons,” he reminded her.

“No, I can sense demons,” she argued. “When we were in that market place, I sensed them. But the demon that came by the other day…”

“Exactly,” he stated. “He’s the one I’m worried about.”

“Then let me have someone else bring it to you.”

“Who?”

“One of your brothers, maybe? I can ask Reggie…” She broke off, and for a moment, he thought maybe she was tracking Reggie down, except her silence held the weight of tension.

“Zara?” Magnus was already beginning to get to his feet.

“Someone’s there. Magnus, get down!”

No sooner had her warning rang out when something ripped the air inches from his face and embedded itself into the shingles.

Magnus didn’t stay down. He was already on his feet and running in the direction of the front. His boots punched into the slick slope, but he didn’t stop, even as another arrow zipped over his head and another inches from where his foot landed next.

At the edge, overlooking the front porch, he lunged off. Air rushed past him, snatching at his coat flaps and making them snap out like raven wings. Halfway to the ground, he executed a somersault and landed perfectly in a crouch on the gravel below. But he didn’t stay there. He bounded to his feet and charged up the porch steps.

The front doors were open. Screams echoed as creatures bolted for cover, escaping the dark figures invading the space. Steel and iron gleamed in the light of day, creating arcs with every swing.

“Zara!”

His voice barely carried over the panic. It was lost before it even left his mouth. But it wasn’t enough to simply lose his voice, he couldn’t hear her in his head either.

“Magnus!”

He whirled at the sound of his name, but he had just enough awareness to register that it wasn’t Zara when Imogen frisbee’d a plate at his head. He ducked just in time to miss the sword coming down at his skull. The plate smacked the invader in the face.

Magnus’s sword hissed as it was freed from its sheath. The sing of it pulsed through his senses, a familiar lover. He swung in the same motion to neatly decapitated the man.

He didn’t watch the man drop. Magnus was already charging at another as the open doorway became overrun by rogue Casters, men and women he’d fought with, had trusted to watch his back. He knew none by name, but he recognized most of them as members of the east and south.

He didn’t care where they’d come from or what they wanted, his only goal was finding Zara.

He spun once and dropped to his knees. His slash arched across the attacker’s abdomen. Magnus knew it wouldn’t kill him, but it would hurt like hell, possibly a life lesson.

Gideon had joined the battle. Magnus caught a quick flash of Octavian and Reggie, however, he was intercepted by two southerners and his family’s presence was pushed to the back of his mind.

His brothers weren’t the only ones fighting, he dimly noted as he pushed a southerner over a table and punctured his abdomen with his own blade. Several of the refugees had gathered up arms and were fighting as well. Maybe they were protecting their families, or maybe they were taking their own revenge, it made no difference to Magnus. As far as he was concerned, they needed all the help they could get.

But their numbers were still too low. The dozen he’d counted originally had seemed to multiply as the battle wore on. The entire diner was packed to capacity, choked by the hindrance of the fallen beneath his feet; there wasn’t enough room.

“Riley, guard the doors!”

The sound of his mother’s command had Magnus spinning. He faltered in his attack at the sight of her, tiny and pale, and drenched in blood. A sword was held firm in one hand. The blade gleamed with every precise swing. She drove back the cluster trying to push past her to the kitchen doors.

Riley was nearby, a crimson blur of red hair and dripping talons. Blood sprayed in arcs with every definitive sweep of her arms. Bodies fell, their blades unable to protect them.

His father pushed through the crowd and put himself at his wife’s side, his usually immaculate suit tattered and stained.

No one seemed harmed, from what Magnus could tell in the quick once over he gave each of them. But it was Zara he was actually looking for. His mind kept jumping between her having reached safety at the back of the house and her being somewhere beneath their feet, trampled and dead. There were too many unmoving faces, too many possibilities.

His distraction was the thing that did him in. He felt the blow resonate all the way through him. It collided with the back of his shoulder and sent him sprawling forward. The ground made impact with his knees before he could throw out his hands to stop his face from meeting the same fate.

Someone screamed his name, but a dull, muffled buzz had begun between his ears from the assault. He could inexplicably hear the thump, thump, thump of his own heartbeat, but nothing else. The world around him slowed in volume, even as the chaos continued to rage. He fought to shake it off, to get back on his feet.

The boot ramming into his ribs sent him sprawling onto his side. The jarring force knocked the wind from his lungs, but he had just enough sense to roll once to avoid the plummeting blade plunging towards his chest.

A familiar pair of eyes bore down on him from a face he could have recognized anywhere, even with the streaks of blood marring it. Long, dark locks of hair spilled over broad shoulders and down a naked chest littered in tribal tattoos.

“Kyros?”

The man smirked down at him. “Hello, brother.”

The greeting was followed by another biting kick into Magnus’s ribs. Pain rippled over his abdomen in waves.

“Hey, asshole!”

Imogen appeared out of nowhere brandishing a frying pan. The cast iron skillet slashed through the air in a smudge of black and caught a surprised Kyros in the face. The resonating pong echoed almost like a gong over the chaos. It mangled with the crunch of breaking bones.

But Kyros remained erect, a solid force of bronze muscle and rage. It twisted his face into a sneer smeared with blood from his shattered nose. The sword in his massive fist slashed upward in preparation to swing.

Magnus acted first. He kicked out with his feet and caught the Draconian around the ankles and pulled him down before he could take Imogen’s head. The floorboards vibrated with the giant’s fall. He took down a few of the people around him on the way down, but that didn’t hold Magnus’s attention.

He struggled to his feet and rounded on the Banshee. “Get out of here!”

Skillet in hand, Imogen didn’t need to be told twice. She sprinted out of sight as quickly as she’d appeared.

Freed of the tangled arms and legs, Kyros rose, a hulking mountain towering over all the others. Magnus included.

“What are you doing?” Magnus demanded, staring into the face of his best friend. “Since when do we raise our swords against each other?”

“Since your brother ruined my life,” Kyros snarled, teeth red with the blood rushing from his nostrils. It spilled over his lips and down his chin. “I was next in line to the throne. I had a few more years of Tiana. The kingdom would have been mine. But the moment I allowed your brother and that Harvester whore in … it all ended. Everything. And you betrayed me.”

Magnus shook his head. “I have never betrayed you.”

“You were going to let your family kill me. Me!” he roared. “I saved your life. I brought you back from hell. I gave you a family, and you couldn’t be bothered to lift a finger to help me.”

“You’re wrong,” Magnus argued. “I never would have let that happen. I was going to talk to them, convince them you were a friend. Baron took you before I could—”

“I don’t want to hear any more of your lies,” he cut in and spat blood and saliva onto the ground at their feet. “We will win the north, and I will kill that Harvester.”

Magnus had lost his sword during the attack, but he unearthed his angelic blade and gripped it at his side.

“I can’t let you do that,” he told the other man firmly. “I won’t let you hurt my family and Valkyrie is family.”

Kyros punched a fist against his own chest. “I was your family. I was your brother.”

Magnus tightened his fingers around the handle of the blade. “You still could be.”

The Draconian shook his head. “No, brother, that time has passed.”

The bigger man struck first. Magnus barely caught Kyros’s blade with his own. The two clanged upon impact. Sparks crackled to life with the strength of Magnus’s driving force pushing the other man back. The razor-sharp strips of metal connected again, and again, violent blows that sang up his arms. Hours of training with the Draconian had given him some insight to the other man’s methods, but the anger that drove Kyros was new. It gave him strength and speed Magnus did not possess. It left him scrambling for defense against getting struck down opposed to actually landing any blows himself.

His arms throbbed. The muscles thrummed. Sweat slickened his grip, but he held on tight.

“What’s Baron promising you?” he panted, needing to distract the man long enough to catch his own breath.

“What belongs to me.” Kyros shoved him back two full steps.

Magnus swiped the sweat off his brow with the leather sleeve of his coat. “He’s a demon, Kyros. He lies.”

“And yet, I am king, just like he said.”

Magnus had no energy to think of a response. He wasn’t sure there even was one. He was just so fucking tired.

Draconians were known for their strength. Granted, they weren’t nearly as powerful as strigois, but their strength—the strength of dragons—was impossible to match with Magnus’s lesser abilities. Had selkies retained their powers rather than pouring it all into creating the pond some several centuries before, he could have taken Kyros down with a slap. But the days of the water creatures were no longer.

“Give me the Harvester and we’ll spare the rest of your family.”

Magnus barked a laugh. “You clearly don’t know my family. We don’t need you to spare us. And I sure as shit won’t give you my sister.”

Magnus lunged. Kyros deflected the attack with an effortless counter swing of his sword.

“Fortunately for you,” Valkyrie appeared next to Magnus’s elbow, a stunning vision of death and beauty in leather and heels. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this, Draconian.”

Magnus barely spared her a glance. “I got this.”

Valkyrie stepped between him and Kyros, blue eyes fixed on the other man. “No, he’s mine.”

Magnus stepped aside as the two squared off. Kyros took the first swing, a high sweep of his blade that Valkyrie nimbly dodged. Her own blade jabbed upward while he was still trying to right himself and punctured his side. It was so quick, so fluid, Magnus blinked.

Kyros roared, an enraged bull getting mocked by the bullfighter. He swiped again, harder, faster, his massive bulk too big for Valkyrie’s smaller one, which made him appear like he was swatting a fly. But she danced around him, an agile ballet of leather and steel. Both were a blur, barely recognizable until a new nick or puncture hole appeared on the beast.

Magnus wished he could take credit for the Draconian’s slowness by claiming he’d worn the man out, but he knew that wasn’t it. Valkyrie had something to prove, she had a pride to reinstate and a point to make. She was the better warrior.

He left her to it. He was clearly not needed. She had Kyros exactly where she wanted him.

Magnus moved towards the half dozen crowding around his parents, forcing them back from the kitchen doors. Even with their attempts, it was clear his mother was beginning to grow tired. Unlike the rest of them, she wasn’t built for battle. She wasn’t properly trained. He needed to get her into the back with the others.

She looked up when he reached her side. Her face was pale and drawn beneath the blood.

“I’ve got this,” he told her. “Find Zara. Make sure she’s all right.”

She started to shake her head. “There’s too many. I can’t leave—”

“We’ve got this,” Magnus assured her.

Breathing hard, she nodded slowly. She staggered slightly as she willed her body to turn away, leaving Magnus to catch the blade aimed at her back. He kicked the bastard in the gut, sending his feet out from under him. He hit the ground on his face. Magnus’s blade sunk into the westerner’s back. He wrenched it for good measure before tearing it out and lunging for the next warrior trying to dash past him to the back.

A table crashed on the other side of the room, a splintering sound that momentarily drowned out all other sounds. Someone cried out, a strangled, choking sound like a mouse getting stomped on. Then there was a scream, a brain melting wail that sent friend and enemy to their knees in agony. Weapons clattered to the ground as hands shot up to clutch at skulls and ears. Visions blurred as heads turned in the direction of the noise. Valkyrie spun away from her fight with Kyros. Riley faltered mid attack. Octavian, Reggie, Gideon all stopped. Even the warrior Magnus had been clashing swords with stopped.

Imogen.

Magnus knew even before he spotted her. She stood alone, body rigid, head back as she sang her death melody. A bit too late, he mused, squinting a glance over all the fallen. The diner had become a warzone of blood and dismembered parts he refused to identify, nor did he look too closely at any one.

“Imogen!” Kyaerin appeared at Magnus’s side, hands over her ears.

“What are you doing here?” Magnus roared over the noise. “You need to—”

But his mother—either ignoring him, or not hearing him—bolted through the mess in the direction of the banshee.

“Kyaerin!” Liam started after her.

Riley screamed and shoved forward, but she wasn’t headed in the direction of his mother. Her focus was something on the other side of the room, in the opposite direction.

“No!”

Magnus faltered, mind lost in the chaos. He had no idea what he was moving towards, except that whatever had Riley in a panic, he needed to keep away from his mother. He didn’t even stop to process what the threat was. He reacted, throwing himself through the crowd just as Imogen abruptly stopped. The loss of her shrieking plunged the room into a sudden silence that no one was prepared for. Even Magnus skidded to a stop, bracing for whatever it was, but the reality was so much worse.

“Imogen!” His mother’s cry of terror spun him to face the object of her distress, but he was too late.

Imogen was already slumping to her knees, her mouth still shaped in her wail. Blood trickled over her bottom lip and down her chin to mix with the blossom forming where the curved edge of a sword protruded from her chest, a shiny, metal horn piercing through her heart.

Kyaerin screamed, a gut wrenching sound of a mother watching the death of her child. It whipped through the room, muffling the forgotten clang of iron hitting the ground as the skillet slipped from Imogen’s fingers. Her body thumped alongside it a split second later.

Her blue eyes stared over the room, big and round, and unseeing.

She didn’t move, not even when Riley dropped down next to her and scooped her up into her arms.

“Imogen?”

Even from across the room, Magnus knew she was dead. He’d seen enough of it in his lifetime. But Riley continued to sob and shake her as if it that might bring her back.

It didn’t.

It wouldn’t.

Fuck, Magnus swore inwardly.

But that was all the reprieve any of them got when Riley howled in pure anguish and lunged to her feet. The southerner who had taken Imogen’s life hadn’t moved. He remained perfectly in place, watching his handiwork with a look of triumph on his bloody face. It quickly vanished when Riley turned on him.

“You son of a bitch!”

With a running leap, she was on him. Her talons had anchored into his face. The other set burrowed into his chest. She tore his heart out even while he screamed. It hit the ground before he did.

No one moved. There was no sound, except Kyaerin’s soft weeping and Riley’s ragged breaths. But it didn’t last.

Kyros took his opening and slammed the butt of his dagger into the back of Valkyrie’s shoulder as he’d done with Magnus. The underhanded assault sent her down to her knees. The crash of her weight hitting the hardwood catapulted the room back into chaos. Gideon roared and lunged forward to stop the same blade from sinking into his wife’s back.

Reggie spun to follow, to help and got a fist in the mouth. The attack sent him crashing over a table and sprawling across the floor on the other side. Octavian plunged his blade into the assailant’s throat before he could go after Reggie and finish the job.

In all the movement, Magnus lost sight of his mother. Someone shoved him from behind and he whirled. Instinct propelled his blade up in a defensive position, but the attack came from below. The dagger swiped across his abdomen, tearing through fabric and slicing through flesh.

He snarled and threw his weight at the asshole. They crashed into the counter and Magnus drove his own blade into the man’s gut. In the same motion, he tore it out and plunged it again into his neck.

The man slumped to Magnus’s feet, unmoving.

Magnus, panting, touched the place now slick with his own blood and winced. The cut wasn’t deep, but it was bleeding enough to be concerning. It flowed down to soak his pants and leave a trail at his feet.

“Shit!” he hissed, staggering back a step.

He’d deal with it later, he told himself, turning back to the fight.

But the fight was over. Kyros had Kyaerin, had her pinned with a blade at her throat. No one was moving. Liam stood a few feet away, barely breathing. His blue eyes stared at his wife in terror, his hands already up in surrender.

“Enough,” he panted. “Release her.”

Kyros, a jigsaw of cuts and holes courtesy of Valkyrie, bared his teeth. Blood stained the once white surface, transforming his otherwise handsome features into something grotesque.

“Drop your weapons,” he growled.

Not one person hesitated. Weapons hit the floor without question.

“Release her,” Liam said again once the sound of falling steel had subdued.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Kyros replied evenly. “We came here with a purpose. Releasing her would defeat that.”

“Don’t!” Magnus started forward, his heart and gut wrenching together as the implication of his former friend’s words drove into him.

Liam put a hand out without taking his eyes off the giant. “Take me—”

“Liam, no!”

He ignored Kyaerin’s gasp. “Take me,” he repeated slower, calmer. “Let her go. Whatever you need, I’m the one who can make it happen.”

His father’s hands were shaking. The sight was earthshattering. His father, a man he’d seen in battle, a man who had driven his horse into the very heart of the enemy’s camp, a man who had never shown fear … trembled with terror.

Magnus wanted to throw up.

“I want her head.” Kyros gestured with a nod towards Valkyrie. “I want her mate,” he spat the word mate as if it were foul, “to do it.”

Gideon’s nostrils flared. His fingers balled into fists, the knuckles a murderous white. But for the first time in his life, he said nothing.

“Give it to me and you will get your wife and we will leave,” Kyros finished.

No one moved. The very room seemed to be holding its breath.

“No…” Kyaerin whispered at last. “Don’t do it.”

“Quiet,” Liam murmured back.

“You promised,” she choked back, voice as thick as the tears in her eyes. “You swore to me you would never let anything happen to our children. Valkyrie’s my daughter.”

Valkyrie stiffened. Her warrior’s mask slipped for just a fraction of a second, just enough for her chin to wobble and her eyes to fill. Then it was back, more furious and determined as ever.

“Do it.” She stepped forward.

Gideon grabbed her, but he said nothing. He couldn’t. What could he possibly say? Don’t save my mother? Save her and let me kill you? There was no way to save both and there was no way to pick which one to see die.

“Kyros.” Magnus hazard a step closer. “Please. You were my brother. We fought together. We bled together! Don’t do this.”

For a second, it almost seemed like his plea worked. Kyros relaxed the hand wielding the blade. A muscle coiled in his jaw, a familiar gesture of uncertainty Magnus recognized. But it ended when he shook his head.

“I have orders,” Kyros said wearily. “To teach the north a lesson in keeping their word. Someone has to die.”

“Me!” Liam blurted. “Take me. I’m the leader. No other death will mean nearly as much.”

“No!” Kyaerin cried, starting to struggle. “I can’t watch you die, mo ghrá.”

“No one is going to die.” Riley interjected with a venomous rage that blanketed all else. She took a step forward, blood dripping from her mouth and finger tips. Her crimson eyes bore into Kyros. “Hurt her, or anyone else in this family and I will be on you before you can take your next breath. I promise you. Let her go and get out.”

“But will it matter?” Kyros asked calmly. “She’ll be dead. Killing me won’t bring her back. Now, who will it be?”