Chapter 27

DAELLA

Mabel’s words followed me all the way into the forest. I’d wondered why so few had put themselves forward for the Midsummer Games, when such a prize was within reach. None of them knew what Rivelin would ask of the island. He could never tell them, but they trusted he’d make the right choice. They believed he would find the perfect words to protect them from the empire.

And they were right to put their faith in him. He would do it.

If I had my way, I’d steal it all away from them. Or I would have, when I’d first arrived here. I didn’t think I could do it anymore, even if it meant I would never taste freedom again. Perhaps there was another option, but I didn’t see a way out of this.

“You’re quiet,” Rivelin said as we walked along the trail that wound east through the Ashborn Forest. A marvelous collection of trees stood like silent sentinels all around us. Redwoods with their brilliant rusty bark were interspersed with oaks and big leaf maples, forming a lush canopy overhead. Rabbits scampered by, along with red-bellied newts. Everywhere I looked, there was life.

Isveig hated life, and magic, and the elements themselves—except for the kind that thrived in the frosty wilds.

“I’m just thinking. It won’t be long before I must return to Fafnir.”

Rivelin glanced at me sharply. “You have a couple weeks yet, and we’ll find a way to free you before then.”

“If the fire didn’t work, nothing will.”

“I haven’t looked through all the tomes in the Archive,” he tried.

But I knew time was running out.

We continued to search for any sign of Gregor, venturing deeper into the forest. The day passed quickly, and soon, the haze of dusk began to creep through the dense trees. After taking a break to feast on one of Mabel’s mouthwatering pasties, I broached the idea that we should turn back.

“I don’t think we’re going to find him out here, at least not today,” I said quietly from my perch on a fallen log. I brushed the crumbs from my trousers and stood. “By the time we get back, it’ll be dark.”

Rivelin braced his forearms on his knees and frowned. “He can’t have just vanished.”

“Perhaps he stole the swords and went north to one of the other villages. He could do what you thought I would and pawn them off for a bit of coin. That could be all this is, instead of some plot for revenge.”

“That seems unlikely,” he said.

“Well, he’s not out here, so we should get back. We can’t protect the village if we spend the night in the forest.”

For a moment, I thought he might argue. Rivelin was a very stubborn elf, I’d discovered. It made sense with everything else I’d learned about him. He had decided on his role in life and he refused to waver from it. In his mind, if he bent he might break. If I wanted to reach him, I had to do so in terms he would understand.

“We need to get started on the next trial for the Midsummer Games,” I said. “If we don’t win this one, Viggo’s lead will be impossible to erase. And Isveig is far more of a threat than Gregor.”

He looked up. “You’re right.”

Just as he stood to go, a screech echoed through the skies above. A thunderous boom soon followed, like the heavy beating of a war drum. The trees quaked in response, their rustling branches raining leaves all around us.

My heart jolted in my chest. “What is that, Rivelin?”

“A dragon,” he murmured with a hint of confusion in his voice. “But I don’t know why they’d be here. They only leave their cave to hunt at night, and they rarely venture far from the mountains.”

Still, the dragons—or at least one of them—were very much here. The trees above seemed to spread wide, like the pages of a book fanning open. A red-scaled dragon swooped low and landed on the ground just before me. Hot air blasted into my face.

Sulphur and spice and saltwater. Hints of leather and dust.

The scent of the dragon consumed me, choking the breath from my lungs. I stumbled forward and fell to one knee before the creature. Its leathery snout inched toward me and sniffed. Even though it was bound, my hair whipped my face and neck, stinging my skin.

“Aska,” Rivelin murmured from somewhere nearby. “Stay back. This is Daella. She will not harm you.”

I glanced up sharply. The dragon was so close now I could see the varying shades of red on its scales and the reflection of my own face in its bulbous orange eyes, along with the sharp points of every tusk along its wings and the wicked teeth that were larger than my head. I could smell the smoke and fire and the overwhelming power that seemed to pulse from its skin. A tremor went through me.

I swallowed and managed to find my voice to say, “Aska? That’s its name?”

“Her name, yes,” Rivelin said, though he sounded more tense than I’d ever heard him, almost as if he wasn’t convinced these dragons were as harmless as he’d told me. “The others are Eldi, Reykur, and Hita.”

How odd. Those were orcish names.

“And why is she here?” I whispered.

A pause. “I do not know.”

That was not particularly reassuring, nor did I breathe even when the dragon relaxed onto her haunches and neatly folded her leathery wings against her back. She blinked at me, then sniffed again, cocking her head.

The dragon clearly smelled something. Was it me and my orcish blood, or…I glanced down at my pack. It still sat open on the forest floor, where I’d tossed the almost empty sack of Mabel’s mushroom pasties. Even all these hours later, the savory scent of them hung around us like a cloud.

I cocked my head and extracted the final one. “Is this why you’re here? You’d like some of Mabel’s treats?”

Aska eagerly thumped her tail, spraying dust and fallen leaves into my face.

“Well, fates be damned,” Rivelin said.

I started to place the food on the ground in front of the dragon, but Aska shoved her snout into my hand before I could manage. I tensed and slowly opened my palm. Tail still thumping, Aska gently took the pastie from my hand and swallowed it in a single gulp. I could only watch, dumbfounded. All these years, this was what I’d been afraid of? She was no more terrifying than Skoll.

Aska nudged my hand again, a deep rumble coming from her throat.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “That was our last one.”

She closed her eyes and sighed as she leaned her muzzle against my palm. I stroked her snout, a strange sensation kindling in my heart. It was that tug—that impossible-to-resist urge to bond myself to this dragon, to use her magic as mine. I’d felt this urge all my life, but it had been so easy to force it down when Isveig had eradicated all the dragons.

All but four, it turned out.

And if I was not careful, I knew I’d give in to this desire. I couldn’t ignore it forever. No one ever did.

Slowly, I pulled back.

“Daella,” Rivelin said, snapping my attention away from Aska and those flaming eyes that seemed to see through me, right into my soul. “Is your hand all right?”

“What? Of course it is. She wanted my food, not my fingers.”

“I meant your skin,” he said so intently, a chill caressed my bare arms. “No one can make contact with dragons. It burns. That’s why I can’t get close.”

I blinked. “Oh. I’m fine. I suppose that’s not much of a surprise since I seem to be immune to fire in general.”

“Yes, but I do wonder…” He stared at the dragon for a good long while, then blinked and shook his head when Aska suddenly pushed off the ground and returned to the skies, leaving behind a whirlwind of leaves and dirt. “Your mother was an orc, and she died in a Draugr fire, you said?”

I frowned. “Yes, that’s right.”

“That’s what I thought. I’d hoped, perhaps, Aska’s fire might melt your ice shard, but it’s too much of a risk to try.” He sighed. “We best return to Wyndale. After the past few days, I think we could both use a good night’s sleep.”

* * *

The next week passed quickly. Gregor never showed himself, and we focused our attention on the trial when we weren’t working on commissions in the forge and Rivelin wasn’t digging around the Archives for a way to melt my ice shard.

For the Jordur Trial, we were to use the elements of the earth to create something truly remarkable. Unfortunately, this task didn’t line up with Rivelin’s strengths the way the last two had. Every morning, I’d catch him at the dining table, surrounded by piles of sticks, rocks, and flowers, looking completely helpless. Truth be told, I wasn’t much help.

“Perhaps we could make a rock formation.” I poked around at the pile of stones. It was one day before we were to present our creation to the spectators. So far, we had little to offer.

“We could. And then we would lose,” Rivelin answered dryly.

I dropped into the chair across from him and tried not to stare at the way his freshly washed hair curled across his ears. The past few days had been fraught with tension between us. I hadn’t mentioned our intimate moments, and neither had he. Every now and then, I’d catch him staring at me from across the forge, sparks and heat dancing between us. But he never took it further than that, and neither did I. As far as I could see, whatever this was between us was doomed. Soon, I would be forced to leave this place, and I’d never find the freedom to return.

All I could do was ensure Wyndale was protected before I went.

“Right.” I flattened my hands on the table. “From what I can tell, the Games tend to follow the same pattern each year, yes? You always do something with a boat for the first task, and then you have to create something using fire for the second one. And now we need to present something earthen for the third. Is that the same every year?”

He nodded. “That’s right”

“So what have others done in the past?”

Rivelin drummed his fingers on the table. “Nature wreaths, bug hotels, flower arrangements, art using stones. Some have crafted bowls or plates. The truth is, all of these work just fine, but none of them are spectacular enough to guarantee a win. After that fireworks display, Viggo will have something up his sleeve, I guarantee it.”

A thought occurred to me, and I leaned forward. “Has anyone ever baked something?”

Rivelin went still. “I don’t know the first thing about baking.”

“Oh, but I do.” I smiled.

* * *

Rivelin headed to the market to collect a list of ingredients from the grocer—flour, eggs, butter, milk, and sugar—along with some sweet spices from the apothecary. He returned just as I finished clearing the dining table of earthen debris and scrubbing it with a saltwater dishrag.

He dumped his cargo by the sink and eyed me warily. “Are you certain you know what you’re doing?”

“I grew up making these.” I motioned at the satchel. “Did you get the muffin tray from Mabel?”

“Yes, she had one, just like you thought.”

“Good. Get me a bowl, then fire up the hearth. I’m going to need some gloves, too.”

His lips twitched as he moved to the cupboard. “Someone is feeling bossy.”

“You best believe it. We have a lot of cupcakes to make.”

The morning passed in a delicious haze of baking. At first, Rivelin watched me mix the batter and frosting, only jumping in to hold the tin over the fire. Soon, his house filled with the sweet scent of sugary perfection. After the first batch cooled, he sampled my concoction and gave me a wide-eyed nod of approval. Two more batches in, he jumped in to help mix.

When he poured the bag of flour into the bowl, a cloud of white sprayed his face and clothes. He blinked, coughing, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re supposed to pour it into the bowl, not on your face,” I said.

He waved at the fog of flour and slowly approached, like a wolf stalking his prey. “Oh, is that so?”

“Now Rivelin. Wait—”

He took his flour-dusted hand and smeared it across my face. My mouth dropped open, and as I reached for the bowl of frosting, Rivelin wrapped his hands around my waist and lifted me onto the dining table. Leaning close, he pressed his forehead against mine. Steam and flour and heat whorled between us.

“You look impossibly appetizing today, baking cupcakes in my kitchen with the scent of my house and my forge—and me—all over you.”

Shuddering, I breathed him in and tasted his scent, realizing that yes, at some point, ours had mingled, despite sleeping in different rooms and scarcely touching each other for days.

“They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” I said.

A man’s heart.

As soon as I’d said it, I wanted to take it back. How foolish and embarrassing could I be? Now Rivelin would get the wrong idea. He’d believe I expected more from him, that I’d read too much into a brief moment of passion. It had been meaningless and nothing more.

And I didn’t think I could face him every day, let alone work beside him, if he thought I was falling for him.

“My heart, eh?” He brushed his nose against mine, and a quiver went through me. And that was when I realized my fear of leaving Wyndale was not entirely about Isveig. I had met someone who understood me and had devoted his life to protecting his people—the people he’d chosen as his. He tried to hide how much he cared behind a gruff voice and scowl, but I could see the truth in him. Inside, he was just as soft as one of these cupcakes.

I smiled at him—really smiled. And I couldn’t remember the last time I’d tried to fake one. It had been days. Maybe even weeks.

He gripped the back of my head and kissed me fiercely, like he’d yearned for this moment just as much as I had. My toes curled as he explored my mouth with his tongue, tasting me as if he’d never get his fill. My heart throbbed painfully in my chest, a delicious, intoxicating thrill going through me. His touch set me on fire, but even more than that, everything about the way our bodies fit together felt achingly right.

When he pulled back, he ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “I’m sorry. I can’t fucking control myself when I’m with you.”

“What is there to be sorry for?” I wound my arm around his waist and tugged him closer. I wanted him here, like this. No more dancing around it or avoiding the tension that burned between us every moment of every day. Unless we could find a miraculous solution, I didn’t have much longer in Wyndale. Time was flying by. It was a waste to pretend like there wasn’t something powerful between us and not to relish this unexpected bond. Every moment was far too precious not to take it by the horns and live.

“I am not the kind of man you need in your life,” he said roughly. “I’m an insufferable, grumpy bastard. Those are your own words. As much as I’d like to spend every night in bed with you, you’ll be far better off if we don’t. In fact, I’ve started asking around about a house here for you. One that you can call yours. There are a couple vacant ones over near the—”

I pressed my finger to his lips. “You’re an insufferable bastard, but you’re also protective and courageous and kind. No one has ever treated me the way you do. No one, Rivelin.”

“You mean, like when I tossed your beloved mother’s dagger into the sea and then threatened you with bodily harm?”

“Eh, I would have done the same to you,” I said with a slight smile. “A murk washed up on your shore. What else were you to do?”

He searched my eyes. “I don’t deserve anything with you.”

I hopped off the table and pulled my tunic over my head. “You deserve it all.”

We couldn’t remove the rest of our clothes fast enough. When our garments were tossed across the floor, covered in flour, Rivelin hungrily lifted me back onto the table and took my breast in his mouth, teasing my peaked nipple with his tongue. I dropped back my head and moaned, tangling my fingers in his hair. Fates be damned, I had wanted this for days.

His free hand gently squeezed my other breast, then he slid his palm across my nipple. A delicious ache tightened my core.

Rivelin lifted his head and captured my mouth in his. His soft lips consumed me, his kiss so intent it was as if he thought he might never have the chance to touch me again. Our bodies crashed together as a hunger unlike any I’d ever known clutched me in its grip and held me there. My breasts pushed against his sculpted chest, and I hooked my leg around his thigh, tugging him closer.

I needed him, now more than I ever had. We’d given in to this before, but there was something different about it now. It was as if all the walls around my heart had finally crashed to the ground, becoming chunks of rubble. Rivelin had breached my defenses, and what was more, I was glad for it. For the first time in my life, I did not need to hide the truth of who I was and how I felt. I was free to just be me.

A deep groan rumbled from the very depths of his soul as he pressed his swollen tip against my core. Chills swept through my entire body at the feel of him there. His cock brushed against my clit. Oh fate. I spread my legs wider and arched toward him, my body begging him to take me here on this table with flour painting our cheeks and arms.

He inched inside me, slowly at first, before he thrust so hard and deep I cried out.

“Rivelin,” I gasped, clenching around him.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmured as he palmed the table on either side of my hips. He slid out, then pounded into me once more. Sparks of pleasure spotted my vision. Already, everything within me coiled so tightly I could barely breathe.

“Lean back,” he commanded. “I want to see you squirm while I bury my cock inside you.”

Another wave of pleasure washed over me at the dirtiness of his words. Heart pounding, I lowered myself to the table, feeling the scrape of wood against my back. I stared up at him and put both feet on the table, spreading my thighs even wider. I’d never been so bold in front of anyone, but something about the way he looked at me made me want to show him every inch of my body, show him exactly how much I craved his touch.

I could give him every part of me, and he would not use my emotions against me or wield them as a weapon. He would merely give himself over to me as readily as I did to him. I trusted him, I suddenly realized, my heartbeat loud in my ears.

I trusted this elven blacksmith with every single ounce of my heart and soul.

He gazed down at my soaking wetness with feral need pouring across face. Gripping my hips, he thrust inside me so hard the table rocked beneath me. The bowl of flour tumbled over the side and dusted the floor. I moaned, holding the table as it shook. At the sound of my pleasure, a wicked glint lit Rivelin’s eyes, and he thrust faster and harder until I was nothing but a panting mess, desperate for more.

Suddenly, he lifted me from the table and carried me to the wall, keeping our bodies locked tightly together. Steam hissed between us, the heat of it matching the fiery need in my core. More gently than I expected, Rivelin trapped me between the hard planes of his chest and the timber beams of the house, but it was his eyes that captured me. They were a bright, burning gold.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, dropping his forehead to mine. “Everything about you is perfection.”

He rocked his hips against me, gently this time, as if he were savoring every second he could spend inside me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and met his intense gaze with one of my own, one I hoped he understood. I wanted him. No, I needed him, here and now and every night to come. A slight smile tipped up the corners of my lips, conjuring a deep groan from Rivelin.

“Stay with me, Daella.” My name rolled across his tongue like a prayer as he continued to thrust inside me. “We’ll find a way to keep you in Wyndale. I want you here, in my forge and in my bed.”

My heart throbbed, my fingers tightening around the silken strands of his hair. “For how long?”

“I can’t imagine I’d ever want this to end.”

Desperate desire pounded in my head. Truth was, I felt every single word as if I’d spoken them myself. Being here with him like this was the best thing I’d ever known.

“I don’t want this to end, either,” I whispered back.

His thrusts grew deeper, and I slid my hands across his broad shoulders, relishing every inch of his powerful body, every flex of muscle as he savored how I felt wrapped around his cock. Our heavy breaths mingled between us, steam fogging the air.

Heat burning through me, my core tightened. As if sensing my building orgasm, Rivelin groaned and plunged inside me, again and again until—

White hot spots stormed through my eyes, and a powerful rush of fire swept through me. I cried out, shuddering between his chest and the rough wall, the powerful quakes of my climax pounding through every inch of my body. Rivelin released a primal groan as he came only seconds after, his throbbing cock emptying inside me.

I sagged against him, my heart pounding so fast I swore it might shake out of my chest. And with my head against his shoulder, I could hear the same frantic heartbeat from him.

He pressed his lips against my forehead.

“I want to be yours, at least until day breaks,” he murmured against my hot skin. “I don’t want to stop kissing you and touching you and tasting you.”

I met his eyes, smiled, and whispered, “Then don’t.”

That night, Rivelin finally joined me in the bed.