Page 44 of Blood of Wolves

He was only sixteen.

But in his household, that meant he wasalreadysixteen, and the Corpse Lord, and he needed to produce an heir before his magic began to wither him, just as it had his father.

There had been slender scraps of girls no more than twelve, twisting their fingers and blushing and averting their eyes. Girls who were really women, twenty-one, and fulsome, and coy when they looked at him from beneath lowered lashes. Overwhelmed, dizzy from too much wine and not enough food, Náli had leaned sideways into Mattias, until his strong, warm shoulder braced his own, and said, “Gods, this is unbearable. What if I don’t want any of them?”

Mattias had swallowed with an audible click, his voice oddly strained when he said, “Then don’t choose any of them. You should be happy with your choice, my lord. You should know true love, and not just obligation.”

Náli had snorted. “Romantic words for a celibate warrior, no?” When he’d risked a glance, Mattias had been blushing.

He thought now of Oliver’s words, his unbothered assurance that Mattiascared. He took a deep breath, dragged together a semblance of bravery, and said, “Oliver isn’t a Northerner, it’s true. He’s different from us. But he’s no fool, and he doesn’t lack for courage – gods, he’s got bigger stones than any of us realized, I think. His idea to fly ahead is a good one, even if it’s risky.”

Mattias pushed off the mantel, started to move forward, weight shifting – then withdrew, his arms folding. He frowned. “I don’t disagree,” he said, grudgingly. “But why must he takeyou?”

Náli swallowed a lump of fear and thought instead of flying: of flinging himself at opponents, and at jumps on his horse; thought of beingalive. “You’ve seen that little dragon brat slobbering all over me. I have to go because I’m the only one whocan. The beasts respond to magic.”

“To death magic?” Mattias countered.

Oh, that stung. “Magic is magic,” he shot back. “And maybe, for once, I can use mine to assist the living, rather than the dead.”

Mattias’s brows jumped, once, with outward shock. Then the frown returned, and his gaze skated away.

Náli took a step forward. “Mattias.”

Dark eyes snapped back to meet his, like a dog coming to heel. Mattias’s broad chest lifted, as he inhaled – and then didn’t exhale.

Náli wanted to scream. To throw things. It wasn’t fair; his life – his abridged half-a-life –wasn’t fair. Instead, he lifted his chin to a lofty angle. “In the morning, I’m riding out with Lord Oliver because my king, and my kingdom, need this from me. We’re in a war, and we all must do our parts. I see no reason not to go” – he lifted a hand when Mattias began to protest – “beyond the usual. After, I will return to the Fault Lands, and go down into the Dead Waters, and I will rest, and soothe the mountain. Butafter.

“Unless…” And here his voice cracked, and he didn’t sound like a sure lord at all, but like the teenager he was, and he hated it. He took a short breath and pressed on. “Unless you can offer me some other reason not to go.”

In the span of a few heartbeats, Mattias’s face told the tale of an entire journey. From indignation, to worry, to anguish, to hope, snuffed quickly, and, finally, of resignation. He smoothed an unsteady hand along the single braid that clung to the curve of his skull, and shook his head, breath expelling shakily. “No, my lord.” Only a murmur, defeated. “No, there is only your duty, and your health, and if you won’t–”

“Then get out,” Náli said, his own voice as dead as the otherworld that beckoned to him, always. When Mattias lifted his head, he added, “That’s an order, captain.”

Mattias left.

Náli crossed the room to the sideboard, and uncorked the bottle of wine left there with his teeth.

~*~

If someone had told Leif just a few months ago that the stiff and stuffy Southerner Bjorn had dragged into the great hall that first time like an offended puppy would someday volunteer to ride a dragon across the country, he would have laughed. Not rudely, because he had better manners than his brother, but he would have laughed all the same. Oliver. Little Oliver, with his silks, and short hair, and thin-soled boots, on a dragon.

But the man he studied now from the window of his room, gazing down on a snow-swirled courtyard, could be called “little Oliver” no longer. In warm Northern dress, his hair long enough for two small braids, the heavy ring on his finger catching the torchlight as he gestured to the harness being fitted to Percy’s barrel, the man Erik had named consort was nothing at all like what they’d expected, in those early days. He stood with feet apart, arms folded, face lined with fatigue, but expression sharp and studious as he moved around the dragon and tightened a strap; reached absently to pet the reptilian nose that swung around to nudge at his shoulder.

A glance above proved that the snow was starting to slacken. A star winked through a gap in the clouds. The storm would be gone by sunrise, and Oliver would take to the skies…

With Náli in tow.

Leif frowned to himself as he pulled back inside the window and closed the shutters. He’d been quick to volunteer – first, to go with Oliver for Aeres, and, when Uncle said no, then to lead the bedraggled Aeretollean forces himself in Erik’s stead, so that he could go with his lover on dragon-back, and keep him safe.

“Uncle, I can handle it,” he’d insisted, wanting to be useful. “You’ve been preparing me for leadership your whole life, and–”

Erik had cut him off with a heavy hand squeezing at his shoulder. “And you are ready for it, trust me. But I will not have you face off from Ragnar without me.” His jaw had tightened. “Not after what he’s done.”

It wasn’t that Leif didn’t understand that sentiment, but he felt more than a little helpless. His uncle had finally found something – someone – who made him happy. And if Leif could spare him any misery in that department, whether in protecting Oliver, or Erik himself, he would.

After all, it wasn’t as ifhehad any attachments.

Tessa hadn’t rejected him, and if he asked for her hand formally, on bended knee, with offer of cloak and ring and the protection of his name, she would probably accept. She was an accommodating, eager to please girl who wanted to do her duty.

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