#TeaserTuesday - 4/11

Leif and Ragnar finally make it to Inglewood in Fortunes of War, and things immediately go sideways 😊 

 From Fortunes of War, Drake Chronicles Book V
Copyright © 2023 by Lauren Gilley 

“Leif!” she shouted, as she reached him, and went down on her knees beside him. Touched his shoulder and tried to roll him toward her – but he was heavy. She settled for shaking him instead. “Leif?” She scanned his body, and saw that his clothes were ripped, lacerations winking blood through the tears in the leather, but nothing that looked too nasty. There was no puddle of blood beneath him, no obvious mortal damage. “Leif, can you hear me?”

He coughed, and groaned, and rolled toward her on his own power, finally, cracking his eyes open and reached to shade them with a hand. “Lady Amelia?”

“Thank the gods.” She didn’t know how she would have explained the Aeretolleans arriving and getting killed all within twelve hours. “Are you hurt? Can you stand? It’s not safe here.” A wet splat to the side signaled a chunk of meat from one of the drakes Alpha was currently savaging, and she fought not to grimace.

In answer, Leif sat up, rubbing briefly at the back of his head as though it pained him. Then he shook his head, waved off her attempt to help him, and got to his feet. He surveyed the scene while Amelia stood as well.

“Did I hit my head harder than I thought, or is Ragnar riding your horse?”

“And wielding my sword. I take it he didn’t appreciate you getting thrown across the road and knocked unconscious.”

Leif massaged at his ribs with a wince, and his sigh sounded both frustrated…and fond. “Idiot,” he muttered. Then: “That’s some sort of gateway, and we need to close it.”

“My thoughts exactly. I’ve just been to the Between and talked with Náli.”

He glanced toward her, brows lifting in surprise.

“He says the blood opened it – the girl – and that it’ll take blood to close it. The blood of a magic user. He didn’t specify how much.”

Leif considered a moment, glancing toward Ragnar, who thrust his sword through a soldier’s visor with a shout of triumphant laughter.

Connor and Reggie, she saw, were fighting back-to-back, an efficient unit that did more repelling of attacks than advancing, but on their feet, alive, Reggie’s busted lip the only sign of injury.

“I’ll do it.”

She blinked, and returned her attention to Leif, whose expression had gone grim with resolve. He’d stood up straighter, too, and pushed his shoulders back, thrust his chest out. Like a painting of a hero from a fable.

“And what will you do? Dive through the hole?” she asked.

“If I have to.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll do it. Alpha can fly me in close–”

“Alpha” – his lip curled on the name – “is tied up at the moment.”

And he was.