He and Shelmir turned and raced back to the army.
“Hold!” Shelmir shouted as they spun to face the dark fae.
What was so powerful that it could take down the strongest of wards with one strike was a mystery to Voron. He didn’t have time to figure this out at the moment. Ohlian was now exposed.
The tension in the air grew thick. The darkness washed over the sky, taking away the light. Voron didn’t know what the hell was going on. He kept his attention on the horde and saw movement.
“They are moving!” he shouted, pulling his sword from the sheath. Even in the dark, he made out the rushing army. He held his sword up in the air. “Forward!”
He sensed the anticipation amongst the men behind him. They were true warriors and never backed down from a fight.
“For Faery!” Voron shouted.
“Faery!” His warriors echoed.
He ran toward the horde. No fear. His adrenaline swept through him. He released the hold on his powers and let the anger and rage he kept bottled up, out. It was something he had learned to do when he was a slave fighting for his life.
Now he fought for a more significant cause.
It wasn’t just him he had to think of. In his past, Voron didn’t care what happened to him because he gave his all for his realm. His life was changing before him, and he had no control over it.
Arnarra wanted to be with him. Mate with him. Spend the rest of her life for all eternity with him. She knew his background and didn’t care.
A woman as unique as she was, one a man would fight to be with.
Voron let loose a curse. If Arnarra was going to go through the trouble to get him to acknowledge what was between them, then he was going to damn well survive this so she could have what she wanted.
He agreed with Arnarra. The dark fae would regret the day they attempted to invade Faery.
The roar of his men’s battle cries echoed through the air.
The horde rushed toward them. Voron gripped his sword tightly and tossed his cape behind him.
A massive troll raced to Voron.
That was the reason for the darkness. Some of the dark fae creatures needed the night.
For a troll, like a gargoyle, the light would turn them to stone.
Trolls, ogres, and goblins made up most of the dark fae armies.
The troll let loose a roar and sent his fist veering near Voron. He stepped back, avoiding the punch. The troll, unbalanced, stumbled forward, swinging again. His dark eyes were locked on Voron.
Voron swung his arm and landed a left hook to the side of his foe. He was leaner than the troll and much faster.
The troll arched his back as Voron landed two hard punches. He swung around swiftly and faced Voron with his fangs brandished. The troll charged, wrapping his arms around Voron with all of his might.
Voron grunted at the excruciating pain. He gripped the handle of his sword with both hands and brought it down at the back of the troll’s neck, sending it deep into the spinal cord. With a hard twist, the sword severed the bones.
The beast’s mouth flew open wide with a silent roar. His arms weakened and finally fell away from Voron.
Voron dropped to the ground in a defensive stance. Fighting continued around him. He knelt next to the fallen troll and flipped him over. He snatched his sword from the body and stood to his full height. His men were fighting valiantly.
“For Faery!” he hollered, holding his sword, dripping blood of the dead troll, in the air.
“Aye!” his men hollered.
Voron turned around in time to see a tall, dark fae stalk toward him.
Flashbacks of his time in slavery hit him.
He knew this warrior.
But couldn’t put a name to him.
The menacing fae held a sword in his hand. A scowl lined his face. “Slave.”
His voice was deep, bringing forward another memory.
Now wasn’t the time to be reminiscing his past.
“The correct address would be General,” Voron retorted.
“We know what you truly are.” A devilish grin spread along his lips. His jet-black hair was pulled back into a high ponytail with loose strands blowing in the wind. His scaly gray skin appeared pale, but there was no escaping the black pools of his eyes locked on Voron. “The king will be pleased if I bring home his prized fighter.”
“I am no longer his fighter. My loyalty is to King Maglynn and Faery,” Voron growled. He was no longer the property of the dark fae ruler, and hearing that the king wanted him back was getting quite old. A rush of an electrical current pulsed down his arms. Never before had he had such a feeling.
A surge of power coursed through his veins. The fae rushed toward Voron with a mighty yell with his sword held high.
Voron met him with his. Blade. The clang of metal filled the air. He returned the stare of the fae head-on while their swords pressed against each other. Voron pushed forward, the fae unable to match his strength.
“That’s what I want to see. Let your power out,” the fae demanded.
Voron sensed a presence coming up behind him. He swung his sword, meeting that of another. This fae had black skin, silver hair, and pale eyes. He glared at Voron with a growl.
Voron’s blade sliced through the air as the two fae warriors went on to attack him. His movements became fluid while he fought for his life.
The war raged on. His men defended Faery with every breath in their bodies.
Briefly, a vision of Arnarra came to Voron’s mind. He didn’t know where she was. She’d disappeared earlier after the meeting adjourned.
A resounding roar shook the ground beneath him.
Qytho.
Voron knew who would be riding the black dragon.
Arnarra.
His steady footing kept him upright until the ground settled.
“You can’t take us both on,” the first fae hollered. His chest rose and fell swiftly.
Voron relaxed his knees and gripped his sword in both hands. His gaze shifted between the two of them.
“Try me,” he snarled.
With a roar, Voron rushed forward, willing to die to protect everything he held dear.
Chapter Eight
Arnarra cursed, observing the fight below. The darkness that had once covered the sky was growing lighter, making it easier to see. She held on as Qytho dipped lower to the ground.
She caught sight of more of the dark fae army rushing toward the melee. Her father’s army was unaware of the second wave of dark fae headed their way.
Without a word, Qytho knew where to go. Their unspoken bond allowed them to communicate.
She had to help the soldiers who were defending Ohlian. The horde thought they would bombard the city. They would soon regret it.
Qytho cut through the air, eating up the distance.
Burn them, she whispered in her head.
Qytho heard her.
He released his scorching fire. Arnarra grinned at the sound of screams filling the air. The soldiers stalled, desperately trying to beat the flames from their bodies. Those that could turned and ran, but not all were so lucky. Most dropped to the ground, the fire consuming them.
Qytho swooped up into the beautiful sky to a greater altitude. Arnarra held on tight, unafraid of being so high up in the clouds. Arnarra had been riding Qytho for years, and they were almost one when they were together. She trusted Qytho unconditionally. He would never let her fall.
The wind whipped through her dark strands, obscuring her vision. Qytho turned around. Arnarra squinted, trying to assess the fight below.
They raced through the air, heading back. As they drew closer, Arnarra made out the bodies below. From their distance, the soldiers appeared like ants.
“Closer,” Arnarra murmured.
Qytho huffed but did as he was told. He was such an alpha dragon, never wanting to be commanded, but for her, he would do it.
He flew over the melee, and she tried to find Voron. Finally, her gaze la
nded on him. His cape blew in the wind while he bravely fought two giant warriors. She narrowed her eyes on them. If she commanded Qytho to use his fire, he would burn not only the enemy but her soldiers as well.
She’d have to get close and personally join in this fight. She was prepared. Her hand itched to wield her sword. She had nothing but eyes for Voron. Three additional dark fae soldiers surrounded him, but Voron didn’t back down. It wasn’t looking good for her mate. More of Sanev’s army was appearing.
Where the hell did Sanev get this army from?
She’d be damned if her mate would fall in this battle.
Suddenly, a loud boom rocked the air. Qytho screeched and turned away from the energy pulse. Arnarra wrestled to hold on to her dragon and swiveled around to see what the hell had happened.
Voron.
“I knew it.” She laughed.
The power that she knew lay dormant in him had finally exploded. Bodies of the men who were attacking him lay sprawled on the ground.
“Get the enemy, Qytho. I’m going to help my mate,” she murmured.
Qytho’s head jerked to signal he had heard her. The oversized dragon would enjoy this time. She’d basically given him free rein to attack the horde. There was no doubt in her mind the dragon would know what to do.
She narrowed her gaze on Voron and blinked, disappearing from Qytho’s back.
Arnarra opened her eyes, finding herself a few feet from Voron. She immediately grabbed her swords from her sheaths on her waist and dropped down in a defensive stance. Her gaze roamed the area searching for a threat. At the moment, all eyes were on Voron. The fighting had stilled.
“Arnarra,” Voron called her.
Her gaze cut to him. He stood with his sword pointing to the ground. He had a confused look. She immediately rushed to him. Voron was downright shaken.
“Are you all right?” She slid one of her swords back into the sheath. She reached for him, laying a hand on his forearm. His muscles were still drawn tight.
“What the hell just happened to me?” he asked breathlessly. He took a staggering step forward.
She wrapped his arm around her shoulder and took some of his weight. A grunt escaped her as she tried to hold him up. He was weakened, and his eyes drooped while he rested more onto her.
He was going to faint. He’d used a substantial amount of energy, and his body was shutting down.
“General,” Shelmir shouted and rushed over to help Arnarra. “I got him, Your Grace.” He shifted Voron around and leaned the general onto him.
Arnarra stepped back and turned to take in the scene surrounding them. The horde had once again run away. What the hell? She was torn.
Should she follow them or tend to her mate?
“Mate,” a voice whispered in the back of her mind.
There would be many other days she could fight.
“The horde,” Voron gasped.
His head fell forward, leaving Arnarra worried.
“Whatever just happened has scared them away. They are retreating,” Shelmir replied.
“We must get him to the infirmary,” Arnarra interjected. She replaced her other sword in its sheath to ensure both of her hands were free. She waved for Shelmir to follow her.
“What about the dark fae?” Shelmir asked.
“I can still fight,” Voron protested. He tried to stand up to his full height, but his knees gave out.
Shelmir cursed and fought to keep the oversized warrior from face-planting on the ground.
“You cannot.” Arnarra moved to stand in front of him. She reached up and cupped his face. His eyes were bloodshot, and his pupils were dilated. He needed to be assessed by the healers. “Shelmir, have your men ensure the horde is gone. We need to understand how they got so close to Ohlian without us knowing. Do you have men you trust to do this?”
She turned her gaze on the warrior her mate trusted with his life.
“Aye, I do.” He nodded. He tightened his hold on Voron and searched the group of men standing not too far away. “Tomlin, Romon.”
Two soldiers stepped forward. Their swords dripped with blood, while they were covered in grime and dirt. They strode forward with the air of confidence of all fae warriors. They both stopped and bowed deeply to Arnarra before shifting their attention to Shelmir. He barked orders to his men, who nodded then jogged away.
“Now I haven’t done this with three people,” she murmured. She wrapped an arm around Voron’s waist and laid her other one on Shelmir. “Hold on, boys.”
It was much quicker for her to transport them to the infirmary than run. Voron was becoming dead weight, and they wouldn’t make it in time.
Closing her eyes, she envisioned her destination, and the battlefield disappeared from sight.
“What happened out there?” the king boomed.
Arnarra sat on the edge of Voron’s infirmary bed. It had been hours since she and Shelmir got him there. The healers immediately surrounded them and assessed him. Deep, healing sleep was the official diagnosis to explain why Voron wasn’t waking up. The wave of power that had flowed from him zapped his stores of energy.
According to Zelia, the lead healer, Voron needed to reboot or recharge. They’d put him in a private area in the infirmary to allow him to continue to rest.
She didn’t like seeing him this still. Voron was full of life and was a warrior at heart. He was weak at the moment. Vulnerable. She refused to leave his side.
Arnarra was tempted to reach out and see what he was experiencing while unconscious. With one touch, she would be able to dive into his psyche. Just as she had with the prisoner who had been close to death at Shelmir’s hand.
But that would be an invasion of his privacy.
There was much she and Voron had to work out. She didn’t want to lose the trust he had in her.
“I’m not entirely sure, Father,” she responded. She brushed a piece of lint off the white sheet that covered her mate. His chest was left bare and uncovered. Her gaze dropped down to the scars that not too long ago she’d traced with her tongue. If she closed her eyes, she could still remember what he tasted like.
“I’ve known Voron for a long time. I’ve heard that an energy blast from my general halted the entire battle.” Her father stopped on the other side of the bed.
Arnarra tore her gaze from Voron and glanced at her father.
“Yes. By the time I got to Voron, he was dazed and confused.” Arnarra sniffed. She reached down and took his limp hand in hers. “He was brave, Father. You should have seen him. Five soldiers attacked him. He fought valiantly then—”
Arnarra shook her head, unable to explain. She’d sensed that he harbored a power inside him, but she didn’t think it would explode the way it had. She had hoped to help him learn how to draw it himself. Just like she had learned as a young child.
Arnarra couldn’t imagine what Voron had experienced when the energy just released. It was a wonder he was still standing afterward.
“I can tell by the way you look upon him that you really do care for him.” Her father watched her.
She nodded, unable to speak around the lump in her throat.
“You’ve accepted Voron to be yours.”
She tightened her grip on Voron’s hand and blew out a deep breath. “He is my mate.”
It was like having a weight removed from her shoulders. It felt good to officially claim Voron in front of her father. She had been unaware her parents knew she and Voron were to be together. She was glad that they were willing to accept Voron as a mate instead of one of the other many suitors who attempted to court her.
“Your mother and I have recognized it in the two of you for a while now. It’s about time you two saw what we’ve known all along.” Gormer chuckled. He stared down at Voron before turning his attention back to Arnarra. “He’s strong, Arnarra. Do not worry. Voron has faced worse in his life and rebounded. He will do the same now.”
“I know,” she whispered.
Voron’s chest
rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm.
“Until he awakens, I’ve put Shelmir in charge. He reported that the horde once again appeared and disappeared through large portals.”
“He must be stopped,” Arnarra said. Somehow, she knew Voron’s display of his power wasn’t a good thing. Something in the back of her mind alerted her that they would have to protect Voron. Him coming into his powers in front of the dark fae was not good. “Sanev cannot continue to use portals to send his army. What if he attacks the villages or towns next? He’s come after the Ohlian now twice—”
“Don’t worry. We will stop him. This going back and forth. It’s a game to him. It’s a strategy we used when we were young warriors. Test your enemy to observe how they react. He’s studying us.” Her father folded his hands behind his back and walked to the foot of the bed. “We will hold him off as long as we can. We need Voron to awaken.” His gaze flicked to her slumbering mate.
“I shall alert you the moment he wakes up,” she promised.
“Please do. There are many answers we need from Voron, and unfortunately, I don’t even think he knows what he’s hiding from himself.” He walked to her and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Guard your mate.”
He stepped away and disappeared into thin air. Arnarra didn’t need clarification about what he’d meant.
She had been right.
That display of power had been witnessed by the enemy, and she was sure Sanev knew of it.
She turned back to Voron and pulled the sheet up higher over him.
“Don’t worry, mate. I will protect you with my life.”
She leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Voron’s lips. It was a vow she would honor until there was no more breath left in her lungs.
Chapter Nine
“Rise, boy,” a dark, gravelly voice barked.
A young Voron stood from his position on the dirt floor. His heart raced at the thought of where he was going. He clutched his sword in his hand and gripped it tightly to keep his hands from shaking.
A loud roar shook the underground holding chambers. Voron and the other slaves were housed beneath the arena. The dusty cells were where fighters were kept until it was their turn for battle. Many didn’t return once they left for the arena.
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