Page 88 of Court of Treachery

Aedon laughed delightedly. “Oh, thank heavens! It’s about time.”

Brand grinned, his cheeks red at the unusual public display of affection. Erika’s smile was hard but filled with her own brand of affection as her fingers laced through his.

As they talked into the night, Aedon found solace in his companions, until the healers sent him and Ragnar scurrying for fear of disturbing the other patients. Aedon missed Valyrea fiercely. It was an aching void that would never be filled. Something within him died with her that day. He wondered if he could ever truly love again, as more than a friend anyway, for none of his companions would become as close of a soul mate as his dragon had once been.

He had lost his chance with Harper, for he did not know how to love her when she had sought it. He respected that she had realised her own worth was far greater than he had measured it, with no small amount of shame on his part. He was grateful she still cared enough to sacrifice herself for them. After his treatment of her, it was more than he deserved. He vowed to get her back. A part of him hoped that now, in the arms of her enemy, she had at least one to call a friend, or at least an ally, temporary or not, in Dimitrius. She would need to find much strength before they saw her again.

“Are you all right, friend?” Ragnar, released from the infirmary to reside once more in the königshalle, paced beside him silently.

Aedon huffed, and scrubbed at his eyes which stung with gritty tiredness. “Just worrying, Ragnar. Just worrying.”

At Ragnar’s silence, he continued. “I mistreated Harper. I see it now. She’s been a better friend to us than we deserved, even after we doubted her at first. I hope she is as safe as can be.” His thoughts strayed to Dimitrius and his promise to protect her. Did he trust the spymaster? He had seemed so sincere, yet it had been many years since they had seen eye to eye. “And that our paths cross again,” he said finally, his voice heavy.

“Against all odds, we are all here.” Ragnar’s voice was warm, reassuring. Aedon was grateful that his friend never lost hope. “We will find her again.”

“More than that,” said Aedon grimly. “We’ll do everything we can to stop Saradon. I would not be doing my duty as a former general of the Winged Kingsguard if I did not stand up to protect those who cannot protect themselves from power such as his.”

Ragnar looked at him in surprise. “You would take up your old position?”

Aedon snorted. “No. No matter the current situation in Pelenor, I would not be welcomed back into those ranks, butthere is nothing to stop me acting of my own volition. I may have a dragon no more, but her fire burns in me, and I will no longer squander it selfishly. She would want me to fight, as we always did, for the peace of others.”

Ragnar clapped him on the back. “I’m proud of you, my friend—my brother.”

Warmth bloomed within him. Aedon nodded, but glanced at him sidelong. “You know, you could help the cause, too.”

Ragnar scowled.

“Hear me out. No matter your personal squabbles with Korrin or anyone else here, your rank holds power. You know as well as I what good that can do. We must not permit suffering if we can avert it. Look at the sacrifices your people have made already, let alone our companions. Think of the suffering to come.” Dimitrius’s words weighed heavily upon him, his fervent promises of the destruction Saradon would wreak upon Valtivar. “You could stand against that,” Aedon insisted.

“But how?” Ragnar’s quiet voice held hope and desperation.

Aedon only shook his head. “Who knows, my friend. The opportunity will present itself, I am certain. Saradon’s Curse spreads. Somehow, Harper is the key, as are the Dragonhearts. But moreover, we must all stand as one against him. Nothing will spell our doom more surely than dividing.”

Ragnar sighed. “I do not know if I can reconcile with Korrin.”

“You can try, and that is all I ask you consider.”

Through the rock of Keldberg Mountain and across the valleys lay Afnirheim, a shattered reminder of their fate should they fail.

“We must stop him,” Ragnar said.

“Let us hope we can outrun the storm long enough.”

79

HARPER

When Harper awoke, it was to darkness, silence, and solitude. Heavy chains slithered and clinked as she moved in the small, confined space—but not too far, for she could do little more than sit or lay curled up, thanks to her restraints. The metal was freezing—and yet it burned her and made nausea swill in her belly.

With great effort, she quieted her panic and reached for her magic, which bubbled and simmered deep within her, as closed off as it had been since Saradon’s subjugation of her obedience. Far beyond her reach. These bonds were made of iron, she knew with instinctive certainty—the antithesis to magic. Harper huddled, shivering and freezing in the dirty rags of the once fine dress, having no protection from the freezing stone all about her. Strangled, her magic could not help with that. The cold seeped in relentlessly.

She did not know which was worse—the waiting, or the not knowing who would come for her. Saradon? Dimitri? Or… someone else? Harper fired a silent prayer into the heavens that her companions had escaped somehow. On a second thought,she sent another, hoping for Dimitri’s safe return. Out of all of them, he stood the greatest chance of seeing them both escape from Saradon’s shackles.

For now, Harper had no inkling what had passed. They were all gone, far beyond where she could perceive, and so was the safety net she had found amongst them all. Now she was at Saradon’s full mercy. Not that he possessed any. He had beenfurious. That was the last thing she remembered. That, and the pain that shattered through her. She shivered even more violently. She was certain worse would be her fate.

A wave of exhaustion rolled over her, threatening to completely fog her already drained mind. She was exhausted, bone crushingly tired, yet she did not want to sleep alone, vulnerable, and isolated. Not there. Her stinging eyes betrayed her anyway and slipped shut.

Soft fingers lifted her chin, and Harper blinked into the pure, bright light. A hint of a smile on the face too light to behold. The golden, flowing hair. The endless robes of white light. Erendriel.

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