Battle arrived on the wings of a storm, just as the sun began its steady decline toward the horizon.

Árdís landed on the grassy plain that marked the edge of Rurik's territory, and Haakon slipped down from her back, looking faintly queasy. Thick brewing clouds darkened the west, and she could see lashes of lightning flickering there and a hint of wings. A brief shimmer of her power, and she stood next to Haakon in her mortal flesh. He handed her the bag with her clothes.

"Magnus fought in his dreki form," he murmured, his hard gaze raking the dreki in the air opposite them. "You truly think they'll change to mortal shape?"

"There's too many of us," she replied, dressing swiftly. Lightning crackled above them as Rurik landed with Freyja and Malin astride him. "Dreki don't fight in numbers. There would be simply too much damage, and more than ten dreki clashing would tear the earth apart, and fuel a set of storms that could change the weather patterns of the entire world. We'd send a sudden winter hammering down through Europe. It's a pact between the different courts that even my mother dares not break.

"It will be a challenge, one-on-one," Árdís added. "Mostly physical, to keep magic out of the fray as much as possible. One of them will challenge Rurik. He's the strongest male here. Another will possibly challenge me. Or your claim upon me."

"Your customs make no sense," he muttered.

"You're talking about an entire race of arrogant creatures driven by conceit," she pointed out. "Honor is everything. To defeat another in battle is a source of pride, but how can one be proud if you destroyed a puny mortal? It's an uneven battle. It means nothing. It is shameful."

"Watch your back today," he said, helping her into her lightweight leather body armor.

He wore a shirt of chainmail, with a ruff of fur on his shoulders. He looked dangerous, and vicious, and all hers.

Árdís kissed him quickly. "I will. You watch yours. I've managed to shield you psychically, so they cannot overcome you the way they did last time. You're difficult to kill, but not impossible."

He grinned at her suddenly. "Nothing's impossible to kill. I plan to add to my tally today."

She rolled her eyes and sniffed. "Dragons don't count. They're practically wyrms."

"Tormund thinks he's going to cut down more dreki than I." Haakon drew his sword with a steely rasp. "I have a point to prove. But I will watch my back—and yours—and tonight we'll celebrate."

Men.

She wished she had half his confidence. Her eyes lifted to the skies. One, two, three, four, five....

"She's not here," Árdís whispered, searching the group for the distinct emerald green scales of her mother. Her heart lifted as hope began to tease through her. "My mother didn't come."

A single dreki soared in slow circles in the air above them. Keeping track of the forthcoming battle for Amadea, no doubt.

"Why would they not bring their greatest weapon?" Haakon murmured, his eyes narrowing.

"They're dreki," she said, as if that explained everything. "And she can wield her powers from a distance."

"Her powers are stronger if she's closer. Isn't that what you said?"

Árdís shrugged. "Maybe she's afraid of me?"

No. That didn't feel quite right. Árdís frowned. Her mother would be wary, but there was more than one way to handle a threat. I will definitely be watching my back.

They joined the others, watching as Tormund, Gunnar, and Bjorn rode up behind them. The enormous ballista lumbered along on a wagon driven by Marek, just in case the tides of battle turned, but the three men were here to fight by hand.

It evened out the numbers somewhat.

A lone dreki stood on the hill overlooking the grassy plain. She didn't need to look closer to know who it was.

"Go to him," she told Malin, who'd braided her hair in a crown around her head and was wearing an old dress of Freyja's.

Her handmaid shot her an uneasy look, and then started up the hill. It was dangerous to bring her to the battle, but they had to find a way to keep Sirius out of the fight.

And Árdís was playing dirty.

If they fell here today, then there'd be no place her handmaid was safe anyway. At least here, Malin could perhaps turn the tide of battle, and Sirius would protect her should they fall.

The ground started quivering beneath their feet. Lightning lashed through the skies, and one of the dreki screamed as a bolt of it seared the air dangerously close to him. Freyja held her hands into the air, her eyes turning electric blue as power speared through her.

She was controlling the storm.

"Rurik?" Árdís turned to her brother.

"I told you," he replied on a psychic thread of gold. "She's not human. We don't know what she is, but she's been growing in power for the last month, ever since we mated."

The enemy dreki landed on the smoking ground, and light flashed as they shifted shapes to their mortal forms and dressed.

"It's time," Árdís whispered, drawing her sword.

Stellan was the first to stride forward, his legs eating up the ground. Lightning flickered and danced behind him.

"Uncle," Rurik called, forcing the other dreki to come and meet him.

Stellan ignored him, turning his head to stare at her. "You've caused a great deal of trouble, Árdís."

"I am not returning to court," Árdís said. "I have chosen my mate, and I will not submit to the will of either of your sons."

"We no longer wish for your return." Stellan's lips thinned. "You are not worthy of the right to bear the Zilittu name, nor to mate with any of my sons. You have despoiled your blood with this human. Your mother has made the proclamation before the court, exiling you from the clan. You bear no dreki title, nor can you lay claim to your previous place. You are nothing. No one. Rut with whomever you want."

It took her aback. All along she'd been fighting to free herself, and yet the sudden loss sheared through her.

No longer a princess. No longer a part of her father's court. She might have held no ties to her mother's family, but her father's.... It was her inheritance. Her place in this world.

A hand slid into hers, fingers lacing between them. Haakon. She squeezed back, grateful for the silent support.

"You're my wife. That is your place," he muttered, and she looked at him sharply, surprised he'd heard her thoughts, though she shouldn't have been.

They were one now.

Almost.

"You do not have the right to strip Árdís of her name," Rurik growled, stepping forward. "And the court belonged to my father. My mother's claim upon it is spurious, if nothing else."

"I hear the words of a ghost," Stellan mocked, his eyes glittering. "Your words have no weight here."

"I hear the words of a coward," Rurik shot back, and every dreki within the area sucked in an audible gasp. "One who likes to hide behind lies, and the lives of his sons." He gestured to the barren lands around him. "Well, I have helped take one of your sons from this world. Perhaps you would like to step out from behind the others? Face me as the dreki warrior you claim to be."

Stellan's eyes narrowed.

"Enough."

The word echoed through all their minds, like a lash of lightning.

The dreki parted, and behind them, Árdís saw a woman skirting the bubbling pools of mud, stagnant ponds, and the hissing steam vents that marked the caldera. The heat drained from Árdís's face. Her mother walked with stately grace, wearing a gown of emerald green velvet, her unbound hair tumbling in loose golden waves down her back.

She hadn't been hiding after all. She'd been waiting to make an entrance.

"You sent me a challenge," Amadea hissed, her golden hair streaming behind her in the winds. "Are you ready to face me, daughter?"

Árdís stared at her mother, swallowing her fear.

"A challenge?" Rurik called. "I haven't heard anyone here offer challenge."

"Oh, but that's not true, is it, Árdís?" Her mother's smile widened. "Go ahead and tell them the truth. How many nights ago was it when you sent your spirit dreki to me? And now I am here to fight for my crown."

The blood drained out of her face. "But I didn't mean...."

A green glow began to ignite in the queen's eyes. "You stupid kit. Did you think I would merely hide in Hekla and wait for you to grow in strength?"

She'd barely begun to master her magic.

But she'd told her mother she'd kill her if she ever touched Haakon again. A wince went through her as she remembered what else she'd said. You are not the only one with power, she'd hissed. I'm waiting for you, Mother. Come and get me.

Technically a challenge. She slid her sword back into its sheath. Her breath hitched. This wasn't the fight she'd expected, but she could do this.

She had to do this.

"Árdís," Haakon said, his face grim.

"This is my battle," she whispered to Haakon. "If I fall, then remember the plan."

"You're not going to fall."

She pressed a gentle hand to his arm. "I love you."

"I love you too." He bent and kissed her cheek. "And I don't think she'd be here if she wasn't a little afraid of you, Árja. I also think she's going to cheat."

"She can't. If she breaks her word, then the entire court will turn on her."

All her life she'd been too afraid to take what she wanted. She was no longer that young woman, sheltered and alone, looking for someone to fight her battles for her.

This was her fight.

And she was no longer afraid.

"Árdís?" Rurik called.

"I challenged her," she said, striding to the middle of the ground between both groups. "She has the right of it."

Amadea stood before her, weaving wisps of electric green light to life. A net of shimmering, incandescent green.

Excellent. Who knew what that could do?

Árdís planted her feet, and reached down deep within her.

Just as she drew her breath to delve into her new power, a sudden shocking slam of another dreki's mind lashed against hers. A blow of psychic proportions, that she narrowly turned away with a psychic shield. Stellan.

"Árdís!" someone bellowed.

She was on the ground, on her knees, and her magic evaporated through her fingers. The net flared wide as her mother cast it at her, filling her vision.

Move! Árdís threw herself aside, still trying to blink through the shock of the assault. She splashed through hot mud, and the net sizzled as it hit the ground where she'd been standing, and vanished into the earth, leaving behind a carved grid.

Behind her, swords clashed as Stellan leapt forward to drive her brother back. Árdís staggered to her feet as her mother's dreki charged forward, cutting her off from the others. Amadea had vanished behind them, taking her dangerous magic with her.

What was happening? This wasn't how dreki fought. The challenge had been accepted by her mother, which meant the fight ought to remain between the pair of them. Árdís drew her sword as two of the dreki advanced. Behind them, she could just make out Haakon, advancing upon Roar with his sword drawn.

He was cut off from her by the two dreki circling her. She recognized Lor, one of her mother's pets, and Florian, who generally preferred to keep to the shadows.

"This is a challenge," she snapped. "Between my mother and me. Get out of my way."

Lor's smile sent a shiver down her spine. He towered over her, and his reputation was brutal enough to make her very wary. "Your mother changed the rules. It was a challenge. But who's going to tell the court?"

And they were the only ones who mattered.

Árdís took a step backward. This had been the plan all along. Lure her out and cut her off from the others, who were battling behind her to break through. Keep her distracted by fighting for her life, unable to take a second to bring her magic to bear. "You think there won't be any witnesses to this fight? This is breaking all the rules."

"I know," Lor said, and lunged forward, bringing his sword down upon hers.

* * *

"We have to do something," Malin cried as the melee beneath them suddenly shifted, revealing how outnumbered Rurik and Árdís were.

Every muscle in Sirius's body locked tight.

"Get down here," Stellan snarled in his head. "It should have been you attacking the prince."

Rurik and Stellan fought like a pair of titans, their entire focus locked upon each other as they bashed and hammered at each other's swords. Mud churned up beneath their feet, but Sirius's father was keeping the prince busy. Behind him, Rurik's woman paced nervously, not daring to intervene with her magic.

Amadea laughed as she withdrew to a grassy knoll, leaving Árdís facing Lor and Rolf. Árdís was holding her own. Barely. But Lor was letting her wear herself down, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

And beyond them, Árdís's mortal husband kept trying to reach her side, but Roar danced between them, grinning as he lunged forward with his sword. Behind Haakon, Florian shot the queen a sidelong glance, then withdrew the dagger at his belt and took a stealthy step toward the Norseman.

It would be death from behind, with Roar deliberately distracting Árdís's husband.

Sirius could see the tides of the battle turning. The man would fall, and then both Florian and Roar could take on Rurik. The humans who were trying to wade into battle to save their friend would be obliterated with a thought.

This had never been intended to be a fair fight. Both Amadea and Stellan had accepted challenges, but they weren't going to finish them alone. Árdís would be worn down, and the only one remaining who could fight would be Rurik.

The prince's odds narrowed the second the others fell.

They should have known the queen would never fight honorably. Not after she'd arranged to have their father murdered.

Rurik's strength—and weakness—was his sense of honor.

"Please," Malin whispered, turning to him. "Please don't let this happen. You could stop this. You're the only one here who can."

Sirius closed his eyes. "This is how it was always going to end."

"It doesn't have to. I said I despised you, but it wasn't true. There is something good within you. I don't know how your father didn't crush it out of you, but it's there. I've seen it."

To take a side meant he could never go back. He could cost Andri his life.

But if Rurik lost today, if Stellan and Amadea were victorious, then there was nowhere Malin would be safe. They would kill her. Or they would try. And then he would be taking a side anyway, for he could not let that happen.

"Please be a hero," she begged.

The words cut right to the core of him.

"I'm not a hero," he snapped.

"Then be my hero," she whispered.

Of all the things that could have changed his mind…. He was trapped, no matter which choice he made. He knew if he entered the field of battle below, he would not return. Stellan would never allow him to survive such a betrayal.

But the decision was made. For Malin's sake.

His life for hers. The price would be worth it.

Here it ends.

It almost felt like there was finally something to fight for. A means to atone for all he'd done.

"Stay here," Sirius told her softly, pressing his dagger into her hands. "And don't let anyone near you."

She watched him go, relief filling those beautiful eyes, and he knew she did not realize this was goodbye.

* * *

Mud kicked up, and Haakon whirled, deflecting the blow from the bastard prince. Shock echoed through his arms as their swords met. Roar was stronger than he was, and slightly taller. For a man used to hunting dragons, Haakon was suddenly in the fight of his life. The edge of Roar's sword shuddered down his, and glanced off the leather vambrace he wore on his arm as they fell apart.

No time to breathe.

The fight was chaos. A fist slammed into his face, and he responded with a boot to Roar's knee. He caught flashes of the others as his cheek throbbed, especially Árdís. She'd been right. They weren't trying to kill her, but if they disarmed her....

His cheek stung as the very tip of Roar's sword kissed it. Right. Pay attention. Because while Árdís wasn't in any immediate danger, he was.

"First blood," Roar grinned at him, as if that made any damned difference. "You can fight. For a mortal. But I'm going to win."

Haakon twisted and slammed his shoulder into the bastard. Roar staggered, and he followed through with his fist, his knuckles driving into Roar's scarred cheek.

There was a pistol at his waist. A grappling hook. And no time to grab any of it.

Roar lunged forward, beating him back, the intensity of the fight suddenly increasing. Haakon barely had time to wonder why. Moves that flowed like water down a hill were suddenly sloppy and careless. They battered at each other, hammering with fist and sword, until all he could see was the dreki. His sword arm was getting heavier. But he was meeting every strike, and he could see the bastard prince's frustration growing.

The dreki had expected an easy fight.

"I think I'm going to fuck her right here in the mud for the first time." Roar laughed as they broke apart. "Right next to your dead body."

Like hell. Árdís was his. Haakon slammed into him in a violent crunch of steel and leather, and drove the bastard back. He couldn't get his sword up in time. Simply slammed the pommel of it into Roar's teeth, and heard a satisfying crunch. Blood sprayed across his face, and then they were locked together, the steel inserts on his chainmail tangled with Roar's. Metal shrieked. Clapping a hand over Roar's to pin his sword low, he drove a knee into the other man's thigh.

They finally broke apart, and Haakon sucked in a much-needed breath, his lungs burning. Roar hopped out of the way, favoring his leg and spitting blood and bits of tongue. His eyes flashed dreki-gold. Murderous.

"Guess I'm not the only one who can bleed," Haakon mocked, though every inch of him was starting to ache. There was a sharp ache of exertion deep in his side and groin. The world seemed far too bright and chaotic, and he knew he needed to finish this quickly, before the tide of energy racing through his veins suddenly broke and came crashing down upon him.

There was something about the other man's vicious bloodied smile that made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. "We'll see."

"Behind you!" A man yelled.

Instincts honed by years of battle, Haakon turned, catching a glimpse of a dark shadow rushing toward him. His elbow was moving, up, up, into the newcomer's face, but silver flashed beneath his arm, into the gaping vulnerability of his chainmail.

A knife.

Haakon's breath exploded out of him as it rammed into his side. He felt the punch of it as the hilt hit skin, and slammed his elbow into the would-be assassins face. The dreki went down, taking the knife with him, and it was only then that Haakon felt the rest of it.

Burning agony exploded through him. There was a tight pulling up under his arm. Pain searing along his nerves.

His legs weren't working properly, his right knee threatening to go out from under him. Blood. All over his side. He clapped his other hand there, and felt it weeping warmly over his fingers. Sweet gods.

How bad?

White began sucking at his vision. Between one second and the next, he found himself on his knees, his sword in the mud. He couldn't remember dropping it. Couldn't remember hitting the ground.

"No!" Even from across the field, he heard Árdís's scream cut through the air as if the very sound vibrated.

Everyone clapped their hands over their ears.

Haakon blinked, and then the dreki who'd stabbed him was on his feet. Moving toward him with the knife held low against his thigh.

"He's mine. I get to do the honors," Roar said, spitting blood into the mud as he stalked forward with an unhurried step, bringing his sword up. "I want her to see it."

Haakon's fingers groped for his sword. His vision was narrowing. Fingers slippery with blood as he tried to pick it up. His right side throbbed just under the ribs.

"Haakon!" He couldn't see her, but he knew Árdís was fighting her way toward him.

Árdís, his sunlit princess.

His heart.

His everything.

No. He didn't want her to see this.

Roar lifted the sword, and sunlight flashed off it as it began its descent—

Steel whined as it shaved the air next to his ear, and then a shower of sparks rained over him as another sword met Roar's.

The bastard prince's eyes widened, and then he was staggering back, a boot in his chest, as someone stepped between them.

Not just anyone.

But the dreki who'd once sworn to kill him.

"Hello, brother," Sirius almost purred.