Total pages in book: 208
Estimated words: 209645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1048(@200wpm)___ 839(@250wpm)___ 699(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 209645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1048(@200wpm)___ 839(@250wpm)___ 699(@300wpm)
“Did you feel the quake this morning?” she demanded.
Tor had. They all had.
It meant nothing.
Or Lahn hoped to his Tiger god it meant nothing.
“And anyway, you didn’t come down here just so I could hang with Circe,” Cora continued, using the kind of vernacular Lahn’s queen did, something none of the women from that other world had lost, even after the years slid by where they remained where they were meant to be.
In this world with the men who loved them.
“You came to trade Valerian steel for Korwahkian jewels,” Cora finished.
“There was also that,” Tor muttered, his lips twitching.
“Lahn,” Circe said quietly, and his gaze went to his wife.
Not a single measure of beauty had she lost in all these years.
In truth, his golden queen was more beautiful today than she’d ever been.
And tomorrow, as he knew from experience, she’d be even more beautiful.
“Circe,” he said quietly as well, “that voyage is treacherous, and we will not be taking it. I am sorry, kah rahna fauna, I simply cannot allow either of us to risk it.”
“But—” she tried.
“No.”
“You can’t—”
He took a chance, one that rarely to never worked, and stated resolutely, “I have spoken.”
It wasn’t going to work this time. He knew it when her face grew hard.
“I—” she began.
She said no more as they all turned their attention when Jacanda, Circe’s closest maid, came rushing in and skidded to a halt.
“I can’t…you don’t…you won’t believe…it’s fantastical…” She drew in a deep breath and cried, “The roof!” and then she rushed out.
All moved after her.
Lahn’s and Tor’s legs were longer, but that didn’t mean there was not some jostling as the men tried to keep their women belowstairs while they made their way to the roof.
But when Lahn alighted at the top, he saw all of Circe’s servants standing there, gaping toward the Majestic Rim of Korwahn.
He turned and looked that way as well.
Then he felt his frame grow solid and his jaw get tight.
Tor stopped beside him and muttered, “Bloody hell.”
“Holy crap,” Cora breathed.
“See?” Circe asked, and Lahn knew this was addressed to him.
Dax Lahn, the warrior king of Korwahk, drew a sharp breath into his nose as he stared at the enormous dragon sitting on the grand, rocky ledge of the Majestic Rim, its powerful tail drifting idly, its forked tongue could be seen lolling even from their distance, its scales and wings glistening in the sun.
Its message clear.
Fucking Frey.
As if noting they’d made the roof and saw it, the dragon’s mighty haunches bunched, and it soared gracefully into the air, great rocks falling from the rim at the power of that beast taking flight.
With only a few flaps of its wings, it was gone from sight.
“I suppose we sail the Green Sea,” he said to Tor under his breath.
“Bloody hell,” Tor repeated.
Frey Drakkar
Aboard The Finnie, 300 Miles East of Mar-el
THE GREEN SEA
Frey, standing on the deck of his galleon, his head tipped back, took his eyes from the dragon’s approach, the beast naturally falling into formation with all the others that soared above the ship.
He turned his gaze to the man who had come to stand beside him.
“I take it that means the message has been delivered,” Apollo noted, also gazing at the night sky.
“Yes,” Frey confirmed.
Apollo looked to him.
“Bloody things can fly fast,” he said. “Too bad we can’t put Tor and Lahn on the back of one. They’d be here now.”
Viktor had tried riding one of their dragons once.
Once.
“They’re not fond of passengers,” Frey replied.
“How much chance do you think Lahn and Tor have of convincing Circe and Cora to remain behind?”
“Are Finnie and Maddie right now in my quarters, drinking ale and playing tuble with my men?” he asked as answer.
Apollo sighed.
“None,” Frey finally answered him. “None at all. The queens will be in attendance.” His voice lowered. “All the women will.”
The men fell silent.
Apollo broke it.
“I do not have good feelings, Frey,” he said quietly.
Frey didn’t either.
The Finnie had survived the swell that had caught them late last night, but barely. They’d almost capsized and took on so much water, the men had been bailing it from belowdecks all day.
He’d have his dragons, Apollo’s tactical skills, Tor’s significant talents with a horse and a blade and Lahn’s sheer brute strength, not to mention the combined women’s magic.
But he would not have the elves. They did not leave the realm of Lunwyn.
And they faced an unknown enemy that, if myth proved true, was unstoppable.
“Let’s get past this first obstacle,” he muttered. “We enter pirate waters.”
“Fantastic,” Apollo replied.
“The flag of the Drakkar holds some power, even here, and especially with the beasts above us. We’ll sail past Mar-el and make Airen.”
“At least there’s that,” Apollo said.
Yes.
At least there was that.
Frey tipped his head back to study the bulk of the beasts that flew above, blotting out the moon, the strong flapping of their wings having been the constant accompaniment of their journey.