Page 42 of Of Steel and Scale

I’d never seen it happen, but there were stories, and they never ended well.

I clenched my fingers around the receiving stone. Three beats remained, even if one was rapidly fading. There was hope yet.

“There’re at least eight olm in the junction up ahead,” I said grimly. “This tunnel remains single file until we near that junction, and there’s no way we can get around them from here.”

“What about the junction itself?” Damon asked. “Is there anything that might provide cover for those people or us?”

I hesitated. “We’ve had a few tremors recently, so it could have changed since I was last here, but overall, it’s tear-shaped, with an exit at the point to our left and another directly opposite. A partial shelf that’s five or so feet off the ground runs along the wall between our tunnel and the one opposite, but otherwise, it’s relatively flat.”

“A five-foot-high shelf won’t give those soldiers much protection.”

No, it certainly wouldn’t. An olm could leap twice that height without any effort at all.

“If theyarein a feeding frenzy,” Kele said grimly, “at least they won’t notice us until we start burning their asses.”

I glanced at her. “Which we can only do if they’re not close to our people.”

“If those men are close enough to be burned, they’re probably already olm food and way beyond caring.”

A truth I didn’t want to think about. I once again glanced down at the stone still in my hand. “We’ve three still alive, but we’ll need to move fast.”

Damon unsheathed his sword, the blade a deep blue stone. The Blue Steel Mountains were the only place in Arleeon producing stone of that color, and while it was prized for its strength and imperviousness to weather, it was also extremely difficult to mine. Few went to the bother, though I knew Zephrine often used it for spears. This was the first time I’d seen a sword made of the stuff, though.

But then, he was Zephrine’s heir, so it made sense that he had the best weaponry available.

“If we split up,” he said, motioning with his blade to the junction ahead, “it’ll give us the best chance.”

I nodded. “I’ll go right, and Kele can go left, which should give us better flame coverage.”

“Meaning I’m straight down the middle.” He glanced at me then added, the seriousness in his expression blunted by the wicked glimmer in his bright eyes, “Please do resist the temptation to ‘accidently’ cinder the unwanted husband in crossfire.”

“You have absolutely nothing to fear from my flames.” Amusement danced through me, but I managed to keep my tone serious. “Unless, of course, you do not live up to a certain... shall we say energetic?... reputation.”

“What the whispers actually say,” Kele corrected blandly, “is that he has great staminaandardor in the bedroom—and that is definitely a good thing. It’s all well and good being energetic but a certain amount of intensity and passion is required for a truly great experience.”

“The gossips in Esan definitely have sharper ears than those of Zephrine,” Damon said, tone dry. “But I’m relieved they apparently approve of my bedroom endeavors.”

“I shall also point out that if it is just bedroom endeavors, our girl will be disappointed.”

I rolled my eyes at Kele, then glanced at Damon. “Ready to go?”

“Always.”

He obviously wasn’t referring to the task at hand, given that wicked glint, but I let it slide. Save our people first, drakkons second. If we survived all that, then maybe we could get down to that much needed discussion about what we both wanted—or expected—from this marriage.

Or, better yet, just do what Kele had originally suggested and ride each other senseless.

My hormones were currently leaning toward the latter option. No surprise there, given how little sex there’d been in the lead-up to the marriage.

I tucked the receiver away, then drew my sword and padded forward. The noise up ahead sharpened with every step, changing from a confused babble to something more definable—soft growls, teeth snapping, flesh and cloth tearing, the clang of metal hitting stone. And, ever so faintly, the occasional whimper.

The last had my stomach churning. I had no doubt it belonged to that fast-fading third pulse in the stone. If we didn’t get in there soon, he or she would die.

But if we hurried, we could die. The dagger-sharp rocks between the two blue veins were ready and waiting for the slightest slip, and the ground underfoot remained slick.

The tunnel widened as we neared the cross point. I paused, slipped my packs from my shoulders, then held up a hand and slowly counted down on my fingers.

When the last one dropped, we moved in as one.

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