Embers In The North
19

REYNA DIDN’T SPEAK A WORD as they made their way through Chevine.

Even though the pace was sluggish, she knew they would be confronted by the approaching Fleet in a few minutes. Did Roth expect her to defeat an entire Fleet by herself?

A wave of anxiety washed over her as she considered asking Roth what his plan was to circumvent the Fleet. She quickly dismissed the idea. Turning around, she snuck a peek at him and a chill ran down her spine as she locked eyes with him. He looked as furious as he usually did - almost like he was made of steel. Roth was still furious at her, but who could blame him? She’d provoked the fury in him since they met.

But what surprised her the most was that he nearly smiled when their eyes met.

Gareth’s voice pulled her back to the present. “Alpha, they’re here,” he told Roth.

The approaching Fleet manoeuvred to line up behind them. As she watched them move into formation, her mind raced with a myriad of possibilities.

How many Egranox Fangs had been taken since they left the Citadel? The Krelon flag flapping in the wind caught her attention and her gaze shifted to Roth.

“What’s happening?” she muttered as the Commander of the Fleet bowed to Roth.

Decker remained silent, though a frustrated huff slipped from his lips. She had mentioned sensing another Fleet approaching, but why hadn’t he or Roth informed her it was a Krelon Fleet?

“Who in the Dustfall is the female?” the Commander asked.

“The Icehelm Luna,” Gareth said, answering the Fleet Commander.

The commander with long black hair and a finely ironed yellow scarf clasped around his neck made his way over to her. She followed him with her eyes. The other Fangs turned on their Reapers, standing at attention as the commander approached.

“Your howler is breathtaking, lady Moltenroar.” His tone was soft and kind as he spoke to her with a curtsy.

Reyna was taken aback by his unexpected compliment. It was unlike anything she’d expected from a Fang; a Krelon Omega no less. Nevertheless, calling her a ‘lady’ implied that she was mate to an Alpha, which she was not. Maybe he meant that as a reference to her Luna status?

“You’re different,” she said.

He tried not to show surprise but failed, just like she knew he would. Still, what could she say? The comment was true; compared to the other Krelon Fangs, he was relaxed and spoke softly to everyone around him…even her, despite their relative rank. It was easy to understand: with so many Omegas in his Fleet and having to earn respect from your inferiors. The Commander grunted as he shifted uncomfortably on his Reaper before relaxing again slightly.

“Commander Magnus of the Second Fleet, at your service,” he said introducing himself as he stepped to her side. “The Nameless Fleet has surrounded the Citadel. Warmaster Bandos locked it down, but couldn’t get the entire Egranox pack into the Mithril Obelisk in time on account of the solstice celebration.”

Roth, now joining them on the front line, added in a hushed tone, “They are a vast Fleet and we have no knowledge of how they fight.”

“Alpha,” Magnus acknowledged with a curtsy. “To reach the Warmaster, we may need to engage with the Fleet on the east side of the Citadel.”

“They’re berserkers; they fight like they’re possessed,” Decker growled. “Got a plan?” he asked Magnus.

“Something like that,” Magnus said with a shrill smile.

“What about the ones who didn’t make it inside?” Reyna asked.

“They were taken by the Fleet stationed in front of the citadel,” Magnus explained.

Reyna acknowledged it with a grunt. “How many?”

“Twelve,” Magnus answered, a crease forming on his forehead. “We’re only a fraction of their numbers, Lady Moltenroar. We have a lot of ground to cover, and we can’t risk any of my Fangs in a rescue operation at this moment.”

“My name is Reyna,” she told Magnus. “And I don’t need your help. There is an underground tunnel that runs into the Mithril Obelisk through the West Wing. Your Fleet can enter the citadel through the cave.” She clucked her tongue, and Ator started to trot forward.

“What are you planning to do, charge into a berserker Fleet for twelve people?” Decker said as they followed her out. He kept his voice low and calm, like a chiding father to his daughter.

She didn’t look back at him as they followed her out.

“Make a plan and think clearly. Blindly rushing in will only get them killed,” Decker urged. “You’re a Prime, act like one!”

Reyna turned to Decker, irritation simmering inside her. Of course she knew it would be suicide to confront a Fleet alone.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded.

“You are reckless, Reyna,” he criticized. “Ever since we left the Citadel you’ve been spoiling for a fight. You want to go out in a blaze of glory and you don’t care about anyone else — you’re staying with this Fleet and that is an order!”

The Embers stirred within her, a fiery tempest threatening to consume all reason. Reyna took shallow breaths, struggling to quell her rage. A physical duel with Decker or Roth was a risk she did not dare take. Still, the heat of her anger burned bright, whipping the wind into a frenzy above them, making the Fleet uneasy.

“Don’t ever speak to me like that!” she seethed. In that instant, the sky seemed to respond, pelting fiery hailstones down on Decker.

His Scourger moved fast, evading the onslaught, but the hailstones pursued him as the Fleet scattered.

A violent gust sent Reyna hurtling from Ator, crashing onto the ground. She blinked, trying to focus through the haze of smoke and ash. Roth’s face appeared over her, his voice raging.

“Calm yourself!” Roth roared, his weight pressing down on her like an anchor. “We gain nothing by hurting our own. Decker is an ally. Save this rage for the Berserker Fleet!”

“I’d say,” she heard Gareth murmur nearby.

She grunted, struggling against his hold on her wrists. “Let me go,” she strained to say.

He said, “I will once you calm down.” His voice was softer now, soothing the rage Decker had provoked. Her gaze locked onto him as he leaned in, his breath mingling with hers, his touch both grounding and electrifying.

I understand how you feel but now is not the time.

In her mind, his voice echoed like a soothing balm and she drew in a steadying breath. Then, his grip eased, allowing her the space she needed, just as Decker trotted back towards them, yet he didn’t move.

Roth.

Reyna. Do you have something to say?

Roth’s touch calmed her, like a gentle rain quelling a raging fire. It surprised her how his presence could temper the storm within her. She laughed softly, acknowledging the irony of the situation.

“I suppose I owe you an apology, don’t I?” she mused.

He offered her a reassuring smile. “I think we’re all feeling the weight of all this, Reyna. Apologies are unnecessary.”

Her eyes searched his until she felt a blush creep across her cheeks. Even now, she could feel the attraction between them. In only a few days, he’d gone from being an annoying stranger to someone who invaded her life - and made her feel more alive than she had in ages.

“You shouldn’t let me get away with my defiance,” she whispered.

“I shouldn’t, but in our own way, we’ve come to an understanding.” He told her with a small smile of satisfaction that mirrored hers.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Reyna reminded him. Not since she rejected his proposal to mate.

“It does, Reyna,” he said, his voice carrying a note of quiet insistence. “It always will.”

He was right — it would always be there. There was something unspoken about their connection that she found mesmerizing and terrifying. She felt it each time he gazed into her eyes and allowed her to test his patience, a bond she feared not even death could sever.

“I’d like a word with the Icehelm!” Decker’s voice cut through the moment, bringing them back to the present.

Roth was up on his feet in an instant, extending a hand to help her up. As they stood together, his gaze lingered on her for a heartbeat before he faced Decker who was dismounting his Scourger.

“Have you gone mad?” Decker’s words came out like a growl as he approached her.

“Decker-”

“No, I just don’t respond well to males barking commands at me like I’m a wanker, Decker.” She cut Roth off, facing Decker squarely. “I apologize, but know this: if you speak to me like that again, the consequences will be far worse.”

There was a flash of surprise in Decker’s eyes, quickly masked by his usual stern expression. He inclined his head slightly as he regarded her.

“You keep running your mouth that way and I will thrash you in front of the Fleet.” He leaned in close, his breath sending a shiver down her spine. Her heart raced, then seemed to stop altogether.

“We continue to the Citadel. The Luna will lead the way through the tunnel,” Roth commanded.

“Roth, a word,” Decker snapped before storming off toward the Alpha’s private runner.

Roth’s irritation was obvious as he strode past his Omegas, adjusting his cloak. His rigid demeanour made it clear he was not happy, and even from a distance, fear overwhelmed her. It seemed that one way or another, whatever the circumstance, her actions had caused him distress and that left an unpleasant taste in her mouth. The last thing she wanted was to see that fiery anger in his eyes again. Unwanted guilt crept up inside her.

Roth.

She called through their mind link, taking a hesitant step toward him.

He halted in front of the runner but didn’t turn to acknowledge her. Magnus, perched on top of his Reaper, blocked her path.

“Perhaps, Lady Moltenroar, we should leave well enough alone,” he advised.

She kept her gaze fixed on Roth until he disappeared into the runner, the door shutting with finality. Letting out a heavy exhale, she turned to Ator standing silently beside Roth’s Reaper and beckoned her closer.

“How well do you know the terrain behind the Mithril Obelisk, Magnus?” she inquired as she mounted Ator.

“Quite well. Why?” he wondered.

“There is an ice fortress near the western border, in the Hare Thicket Forest. The Alpha should know,” she instructed, turning Ator around to face Magnus. “Follow the brook in the cave to where the water springs from. There’s a path that leads directly into the west wing.”

As Quinn approached on his Shadowbeast, he voiced his confusion. “Why are you sharing this information? Don’t you mean to take us there, Luna?”

“No, I do not have the strength nor the desire to accompany this Fleet any more. By Odin, it was never my mission,” she replied quietly.

Gareth made a sound of disbelief. “You can’t just leave!”

Reyna urged Ator forward, veering towards the path leading back to the mountain of ice. The wind whipped past Reyna and she hunkered down. She knew they couldn’t go back — she’d done too much harm to Roth, Decker, and the Krelon Fleet already. They had to go forward and make their own way.

Deep inside, Reyna felt excited and scared. She did not know what to expect at the conclave. But for now, at least, she still had the freedom to go where she wished. Now, though, she could go as fast as she wanted without waiting for anyone to catch up.

She shook her head as she remembered how Roth looked at her — with a gentle conviction— and how sure he was that they were mates. It wouldn’t matter how much she fought, with a connection that seemed to take over her whole being, there was no point. As the mountain loomed in the distance, Reyna sat up, slowing Ator’s pace, readying them to reach it.

“What do you think you’ll replace?” His voice cut through the wind, and Reyna swirled around in surprise.

How had the Thorin managed to sneak up on her again? His silver hair danced in the breeze as he emerged from the shadows of the mountain’s cove.

“What?” Reyna stammered, still catching her breath.

“What do you expect to replace when you get to the conclave, Reyna Moltenroar?” he asked again.

“I don’t know yet,” Reyna answered honestly, “but I don’t believe that’s any of your business.” Her grip tightened on Ator’s reins. To get on her way, she simply had to get past him; Ator could scale it effortlessly. But, she could sense his Fangs lingering around the ridge.

His gaze shifted to Ator, a glint of admiration in his eyes, and Ator responded with a low growl.

“Magnificent Howler, Luna,” he said, smiling.

“What do you want?” Reyna demanded, dismounting Ator and grounding herself firmly. She glanced over her shoulder, watching as Ator faded into the shadows.

“I believe you already know that.”

“Let’s say I don’t, Thorin.”

“Seth, please. The Thorin name is lost.”

“Yet the silver locks and Alpha bloodline say different, Seth Thorin.” Reyna held her ground as he approached. He’d shed his cloak, now only wearing a white tunic and grey breeches tucked into sturdy, brown-furred boots.

“There isn’t much I can do about that,” he shrugged.

As he neared, Reyna noticed how much larger he got, and though every fiber of her being urged her to step back, she stood firm.

“Quite the roadblock you conjured back there,” he remarked, a wry glint in his eyes, stopping in front of her. “Choosing to side with those murderous arselings instead of an Icehelm?”

“Says the male who has my father’s citadel under siege.”

“The Warmaster erred when he welcomed the House of Maynord. I cannot forgive that. You are a Prime, surely you understand that certain things are necessary in war. We must never compromise our values, no matter the cost.”

Reyna fumed, her gaze steady on him. She kept her composure, fully aware that she had yet to unravel the extent of his capabilities; she couldn’t afford to underestimate him.

“I will not dignify that with a response. But it is foolish to blame that on Bandos when you invited both Alpha houses.”

His laughter sent an unsettling shiver down her spine. He circled her, hands clasped behind his back. “Uriel said you had quite a mouth on you. Just so you know, the Mithril Obelisk has already fallen. The Frostcall council already pledged allegiance to me as their Alpha; Bandos didn’t stand a chance.”

The revelation hit her like a blow. The entire council, sworn to him? It made her blood boil. The thought of Uriel spewing information about her to Seth only added fuel to her anger.

“If you so much as harm a hair on my father or my Fleet, I swear I’ll send you and your pitiful berserkers to Odin in a flock of fire,” Reyna spat in fury.

Seth’s grin widened, his silver eyes gleaming with amusement. “Do not fret, Luna. Egranox is only taken, no blood will be shed, not unless you do something stupid.”

She eyed him warily, her hand inching towards the hilt of her blade. “You’ll have to forgive me for not taking your word on that. Tell me what you want, arseling.”

He extended an arm towards the path to the conclave. “Our destination is the same, Luna Moltenroar. I have a proposal for you. I will give you what you want — safety for your father and your Fleet — but in exchange, I require that this one thing be done: you get me into the conclave.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And why do you need to get into the conclave?”

He smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You’ll replace out soon,” he said cryptically. “I suppose this is where I tell you that you’ll get me in or I will personally drive a blade through Bandos’ heart.”

Her hand moved before she could stop herself, snapping a sharp slap that echoed through the cold air as it met his cheek.

“You will not threaten me, Seth Thorin,” Reyna hissed.

The look of satisfaction on his face disappeared – replaced by anger. She saw the muscles in his jaw tense and clench; a sure sign of an impending explosion.

“You really overestimate yourself, Luna.”

“Don’t you dare speak to me like that!” she warned.

For a moment, they stood locked in a silent battle of wills, each refusing to back down as the frosty air swirled around them. Then, he moved like the wind behind her and her breath caught. Gripping her throat in a gentle squeeze, he thrust her against him. “You were saying?”