by Ann Gimpel
But he was getting ahead of things. He girded himself. Just because Johannes didn’t believe any of the others had embraced darkness didn’t mean they hadn’t.
“Watch yourselves,” he warned.
“Och, as if I hadn’t already figured that out for myself,” Britta replied.
Raene didn’t say a word, just positioned herself slightly behind him. His heart went out to her, but she’d proven herself a warrior today. You didn’t coddle warriors. You stood shoulder to shoulder with them and plotted battle strategy.
Chapter 10
Raene swam mindlessly, plowing through the chilly water. It wasn’t easy to keep her mind clear. If she relaxed her guard for even a moment, she was right back in the cave plunging the knife into Gregor. That it was a magical knife said a whole lot. Yet it hadn’t acted on its own. Britta had said it sensed her need and jumped to fulfill it.
Did I hate him enough to want him dead?
The question gave her pause. She’d hated Rolf in those early years, and she hadn’t hesitated to cut the last few days off his life once he’d revealed where her skin was. He was dying anyway. Maybe that was why she hadn’t lost any sleep over easing him across the veil.
What she’d done to Gregor was cold-blooded murder, though. An act driven by fury and fear. Air bubbled from her blowhole. She let go of the iron grip she had on her mind, determined to replay what had happened. She’d been crouched on top of the shreds of Britta’s borrowed clothing sending as much magic as she could to assist Aegir.
At first, he’d done well avoiding Gregor’s blade, but either he was tiring, or the sword held otherworldly magic that was getting a feel for his evasive maneuvers. It might have been the twentieth swing or the thirtieth, but she recognized Aegir’s reaction was a split second too slow before he did. She cried out before the sword nabbed him, but maybe he was so intent on his adversary, he didn’t hear her. Blood spattered, so she knew the blade had bitten deep.
After that, things grew fuzzy. She’d lunged to her feet, a nasty-looking dirk with a six-inch serrated blade gripped in her hand. How it got there was anyone’s guess, but she didn’t question her good fortune. Instead, she cloaked herself with invisibility. Gregor was fixated on Aegir, and the other two Selkies may as well have been dead for all the good they were doing anyone.
She’d circled around behind Gregor and launched herself onto his back, thrusting the knife deep before he could react. She aimed between his ribs and right into his heart, twisting the blade in a circular fashion before jerking it out to do it again.
And again.
And again.
In a distant part of her mind, she’d known he had to be dead, but she couldn’t make herself stop until Aegir put his arms around her and held her back. Had the blade been driving her?
It was a convenient theory, but far too simple, and it ignored her part in Gregor’s death. Her hatred may have ignited the dirk’s bloodlust, but it had kept right on stabbing, powered by her out-of-control disgust and contempt for the thing that had been her father.
Raene backed up a step or two. She’d sprung into action to save Aegir. He was in trouble once he’d been wounded. No way to maintain the leaps and twists that had been keeping him out of the blade’s path.
Raene clung to that last thought. It made the rest bearable. She’d caught the stench of poison from the longsword, but Aegir seemed to have neutralized it. If he’d been cut too many more times, though, he wouldn’t have been as fortunate.
She shook herself from head to tail tip. It was over. Done. If the same scenario presented itself, she’d do the same thing all over again. She cared about Aegir. She couldn’t have stood by and done nothing while her father sliced him to ribbons.
And Gregor would have done just that. If her father had ever held a scrap of humanity, it was long gone. Every line of his muscled body had bled determination. Determination to kill. Determination to rule.
A chill settled around her heart. She’d been dead set on finding Gregor. All by herself.
What a fool she’d been.
Aegir must have known at least some of what Gregor had turned into. It had to be why he hadn’t been forthcoming about the other Selkie’s location. And why he’d offered to come with her. Not that he’d really given her any choice. If she wanted to lay eyes on Gregor, her only option—other than thrashing around the seas and hoping for the best—was to go with Aegir.
She’d thought him manipulative at the time, but her world view had shifted radically. He’d been trying to protect her without blurting out an unpleasant set of truths.
No child, not even a grown one, wanted to face evidence their parents were evil. She probably wouldn’t have believed Aegir. Would have chalked his assessment up to an old feud, or rival pods, or some explanation other than that he was right.
She turned hard left after Aegir and Johannes. Britta swam next to her, bubbles trailing from her mouth and red hair swishing around her, courtesy of the currents.
“Have you found the young dragon yet?” she asked Britta.
“Aye.” The dragon shifter turned golden eyes, shiny with seawater, her way. “We’re heading straight toward him.”
“Does he know we’re coming?”
“Nay. I canna break through the enchantment with words. I’ve tried.”
Raene considered asking a few more questions. Things like whether Britta was confident she could rescue the youngster, but she held silence. Tarika shared Britta’s consciousness. Between the two of them, if rescue were possible, they’d find a way.
Light shimmered through the waves in blues and greens and violets. Raene moved her head from side to side trying to figure out what they were. Some types of sea vegetation held an iridescent quality, but nothing like this.
A structure came into view, but it was unlike anything she’d ever encountered. White and pink coral had been piled into columns to create partial walls. Within them, magical globes were the source of the light that had caught her attention.
Johannes swam ahead. Aegir waited for Raene to reach his side. “This must be the Selkie castle,” she said.
“Aye, lass. Ye’ve not seen one afore?”
“How would I have?” she replied. “I’ve never been part of a pod.”
“Ye might have stumbled upon one. They’re not hidden.”
“Come with me.” Britta’s voice held urgency, and she swam quickly parallel with the coral wall. Her limbs churned water, turning into a blur, but Raene had no difficulty keeping up.
Aegir paced both of them. “Where is he?”
“Here.” Britta sank to the ocean floor and directed magic at it. Sand, dirt, and rocks flew through the water. A chasm formed and grew deeper as she dug.
“How can we help?” Raene asked Aegir.
“Not sure.” He swam in a circle around where Britta had created a hole many meters deep.
“Britta!” He made his voice sharp. “Hold up. Ye’ll never get through that way.”
“But he’s here,” she protested. “I feel him. Not much farther now.”
“We must neutralize the evil holding him prisoner. Once we do that, he’ll come to us.”
Britta stared at the gap she’d opened in the ocean floor. If it ran much deeper, she’d hit the earth’s crust. “So, he’s not down there?”
“Nay. He is close. Even I feel dragon nature other than yours in this place, but Brock or Gregor layered dark power around his prison. If they hadna done so, yon dragon would have left on his own. What is his name?”
“Glaedr.”
Aegir began to chant, using his sea voice and the Selkies’ language. Raene recognized the incantation and joined her voice to his. As they sang together, asking Poseidon and Amphitrite’s assistance to rid the sea of impurities and evil, she felt a part of something larger than herself for the first time in her long life.
Rather than remaining on the sidelines or compromising to satisfy part of who she was, she sensed the call of her true nature. It was w
ild and pure and powerful. Before, she’d felt sad to leave the sea and return to her bakeshop, but now she wasn’t sure she’d be able to make the transition.
Aegir had told her Selkies belonged to the sea. It wasn’t that she hadn’t believed him, but she assumed she was the outlier, the one Selkie who could make her own rules.
Tarika took form where Britta had stood and wove golden strands of power in with their magic. Raene felt the shape and form of the dragon’s prison as they drew it from shadow. It hadn’t been buried, but behind an eerie enchantment obscuring it from view. A wavery globe of darkness moved toward them, drawn by Tarika’s command. It burst when it could no longer cling to the evil that had spawned its existence.
The demon who’d shaped the wickedness was dead, which might have helped. The king and queen of the sea may have aided them too. Raene wasn’t certain who or what was tangled in their magic.
A smallish golden dragon with whirling green eyes leapt out of the eye of the bursting evil and lunged for Tarika. She caught him with her forelegs, and he wound his around her as far as they’d go.
Gemstones rained down on the ocean floor. It took a moment before Raene realized both dragons were crying. The fortune in precious stones falling to the sand below were their tears. A mighty blast of magic with dragon stamped all over it shook the water until Raene hoped Tarika hadn’t loosed a tsunami. Before the dragon power cleared, both of them were gone.
One of the stones rippled with light. Clear, oblong, and red, it might have been a ruby. It called to her, so she batted it with a flipper until it rose into the water and she flicked out her tongue to catch it. Selkie-hood had a few complications, one of which was a lack of pockets, so she tucked the gem into her cheek. Aegir must have been preoccupied because he didn’t mention the blood-red gem.
The ocean rocked and rolled around them for long moments before quieting. She touched shoulders with Aegir and said in her sea voice, “I’m happy for them.”
“As am I, lass. I would leave as well, but I must see to the welfare of this pod. Ye can go if ye’d like. I trust ye can teleport back to my island.”
“I could, but I’d rather remain. Perhaps I can help in some way.”
His whiskers twitched. She wasn’t sure what it meant, but he didn’t send her away. They swam back around to the front of the Selkie castle. Rows of Selkies trod water, clearly waiting for Aegir. As he came into view, a cheer rose from all of them.
If Raene had been human, she’d have cried. These poor Selkies were finally free. She and Aegir had done a good turn today for more than Glaedr and Tarika.
Aegir held up his flippers, and the crowd quieted. Raene counted at least fifty, perhaps a few more. “Ye owe your freedom to her.” He nudged Raene’s shoulder with his. “Her name is Raene, and she’s who killed Gregor.”
The cheering began again. This time with her name on everyone’s tongue. Embarrassment swamped her. She’d never been the subject of this much attention, or any attention at all. Unless she counted Rolf stealing her pelt.
“Please. Stop.”
Her words didn’t make a dent, so she tried again, raising her flippers as she’d seen Aegir do. “Please,” she repeated. “Stop. I did what I had to to save Aegir.” If anything, the hooting and hollering and barking grew louder.
Because there wasn’t any other option, she waited until the crowd settled before saying, “Thank you. I hope to get to know all of you in the days to come.”
“Who here was Gregor’s current mate?” Aegir spoke up.
“There isn’t one. She died of shame, but he may as well have killed her outright,” a coal-black Selkie answered.
“Aye, ’twas long ago, that happened,” another chimed in.
“I ken the royal line is dead, and the children from their mating long dispersed, but did Gregor not marry again?” Aegir asked.
“Nay,” Johannes said.
“None would have had him.” A female Selkie glided nearer, disgust clear in her voice.
“Who would lead this pod?” Aegir scanned the group.
No one swam forward.
“Ye have two choices,” Aegir continued, still in his sea voice. It was deep, resonant, and his next words made Raene proud of him. “Ye can remain here and govern yourselves as ye will, or ye would be welcome in my pod.”
“May we discuss it among ourselves?” the black Selkie asked.
“Of course. Raene and I will be near the cave on shore. We will wait until the moon is low in the sky. If no one comes, I will assume ye wish to remain here.”
Without waiting for a response, Aegir turned and swam back the way they’d come. Raene joined him. It didn’t seem to take as long to reach the icy beach as it had taken to swim to the castle. They crawled out of the sea in the depths of an Arctic night. The sky was inky black and shot with millions of stars.
Aegir shifted, so she did as well and stood shivering on the ice-coated rocks while he hid their pelts with magic. The ruby rattled against her teeth, so she spit it out and held it in a closed fist.
“Come on, lass.” He held out a hand.
She knew she had to go inside the cave. Had to don the clothes she’d removed or she’d freeze, but she didn’t want to see the remains of her father. Chiding herself for being a coward, she slipped and slid after Aegir, stopping when she came to her discarded pile of garments. The cave reeked of dragon, of fire, of expended magic, and of death.
“Get dressed.” Aegir’s words were abrupt. “I’ll set fire to what remains of Gregor. Doona think about this. Remember what it was like riding Tarika, instead.”
He was gone before she could thank him. Shivering so hard she could barely get her legs into the warm trousers or her feet into the shearling-lined boots, she smelled fire. Its clean, pure scent chased the overtones of death away.
Raene shifted from foot to foot, directing magic to help warm her chilly fingers and toes. A convenient pocket held the purloined gemstone. Aegir had suggested she focus on Tarika, but when she thought of the dragon, she remembered the flash of gangly forelegs and small haunches as Glaedr launched himself into her arms. Tarika hadn’t rebuked him for his stupidity roaming too far from Fire Mountain.
No. She’d just held tight letting the youngling know without words how much he was cherished. From what she’d seen of the dragon, she would never have guessed Tarika had a tender side, but her tears had fallen as freely as Glaedr’s. The ruby—for what else could it be?—pulsed warmly from where she’d tucked it away. Chances were she’d never see another dragon, and she’d treasure her memento of the brief interlude she’d spent with Tarika, Britta, and Glaedr.
Aegir walked from the interior of the cave to join her where she stood beneath its arched entrance. “Give the fire a few moments to do its work,” he said. “Soon, naught will remain beyond the same pile of cinders marking the ruin of what used to be Brock.”
“How does that work? The fire, I mean. It burns hotter, or has magic in it?”
“Both, lass. Once long ago, ’twas called magefire. ’Tisn’t as hot nor as efficient as what dragons produce, but it gets the job done.” He positioned himself in front of her and dropped both hands onto her shoulders. “How are ye doing?”
Raene shrugged. “I’m all right. Or I will be eventually.” She looked away. “In a very short time, I’ve moved from barely using my magic to full immersion in archetypal battles. It’s a lot to take in.”
He nodded, his expression solemn. “I haven’t thanked you for saving my life.”
“Oh, you’d have figured something out. Or Tarika would have stepped in. Or—”
He moved a hand until it partially covered her mouth. “I was fighting as hard as I could. My magic barely made a dent in Gregor’s attack. Tarika was busy dealing with the demon. Nay, lass. Ye did, indeed, save me. Just as ye destroyed your father to do so.”
She stood straighter, uncomfortable being reminded about her father, but defiant to her core and ready to defend her actions. “I’d do the
same again.”
“Och, ye would, eh?” He gripped her shoulder tighter and cupped the side of her face with his other hand.
Raene leaned toward him, drawn by something she didn’t understand. She should maintain distance between them because she didn’t trust herself with him this close. So much had happened, she wasn’t certain who she was anymore. The cheery bakeshop proprietor swathed in an apron that smelled like vanilla and sugar felt like a stranger.
He rubbed his thumb along the line of her jaw. His hand was warm, and magic spilled from him, easing her muddled mind. Maybe because she didn’t pull away, he took it as assent because he angled his head and settled his lips atop hers.
The kiss was gentle, tentative. It offered her choices. She could walk away—if she did it now. Except she didn’t want to. He tasted sweet, like aged whiskey or confections she browned in her oven. The scent of his magic, wild with the salt tang of the sea, rose around them, kindling all her senses with excitement at the nearness of him.
Raene tried to fight the sensation, but desire for the man next to her ran through her veins like quicksilver. She wrapped her arms around him and crushed her mouth against his, hoping for the thrust of his tongue. He groaned and licked her lips, easing his tongue along the seam between them. She threaded her fingers through his thick, wet hair, loving the feel of him, the contrast between rough, stubbled skin and unruly hair.
She’d never made love with a Selkie. How could she have? She’d mostly avoided human men too. She’d been a maid when Rolf stole her skin, and she’d kept to herself once he died. He’d been considerate—if she didn’t count him imprisoning her—and willing to wait until she came to his bed. It had taken a couple of years, but they’d coupled thousands of times after that. The passion on her side had been quick to flare up and equally quick to vanish. She’d never loved her husband, but she’d found ways to not be too unhappy as his wife.
Aegir curled his arms around her, splaying his fingers across her back as he kneaded her tense muscles. She molded her body to his, all too aware of her nipples forming stiff peaks as her breasts were crushed against him.