Fourteen
Raina
The fading light filtered through the dense green leaves, casting patterned shadows on the wooden planks as we wound through the interconnected walkways in the sky. At this height, we were surrounded by the tops of the majestic koyu trees of Ephandor, their gnarled trunks smattered with moss and winding vines.
The suspended rope bridges were surprisingly sturdy, woven expertly and supported by the branches of the massive koyus. The ground below was almost invisible, hidden by layers of greenery intertwining with the black-brown offshoots of limbs.
The air was fresh and crisp, a welcome relief after being trapped underground in those mines. I didn’t remember much from the experience, but I remember feeling like my lungs couldn’t inflate.
I glanced at Liam leading us. His tall, lean frame moved with ease, his attention everywhere, always alert. Mirrelle followed closely behind me, her steps soft and steady.
The three of us had been all but mute since Gunnar came and unlocked that door. I was usually quiet anyway, but the other two definitely weren’t.
Even Mirrelle and I, after being taken to the guest house to clean up, hadn’t spoken much despite our quarters being adjoined. At least Liam was on a floor below us so we wouldn’t have to cross paths in the evenings.
Soon, Brahm’s grand stokran emerged before us. The clan referred to it as Speirhaus, or Sky House in the common tongue. Despite an eschewing of all things art, the warriors’ craftsmanship when it came to their stokrans was a thing of beauty.
Speirhaus was an expansive, dark-stained lodge, resting at least a hundred feet in the air, interlaced through and across a tightly-packed cluster of ancient trees. It looked like the mini fortress had magically grown from the very earth itself.
It sat closest to Stirroghar Crossing, away from the other dwellings. It was the first line of defense because the Drótinn refused to put others between himself and danger.
Unexpectedly, Liam halted and turned to me. "Are you feeling alright? Up to doing this?" he queried, nodding towards his father’s home.
I hesitated, taken aback by his concern. He felt obligated to keep me safe and alive, but his actions and words had made it very clear that was all he wanted to feel. I also didn’t have a ready answer. Though I felt like I'd experienced something monumental and life-altering, I had little memory of the specifics of what happened in the mines.
All I could recall was the sensation that my soul was trying to escape my body under an intense weight. Mirrelle, sensing my struggle to respond, chimed in.
"It feels like our souls were flattened by a herd of wild boars, doesn't it? Can't say it's my favorite way to spend an afternoon, but I can manage your family for a couple of hours."
"Yes, like that,” I agreed.
I could still feel the lingering remnants of whatever strange power had gripped us down there. The fact it had stemmed from the might of a god wasn’t knowledge I wanted lingering in my thoughts.
Seemingly satisfied with the response he’d gotten, Liam resumed his lead. He took us left, away from the front entrance and around to the back. We passed several guards who greeted Liam but studiously ignored me and my friend.
We took a narrow staircase up to a small covered deck, mostly hidden from the path below. The platform was a secluded oasis amidst the sprawling treehouse, surrounded by the verdure crowns in the canopy of trees.
Brahm and Gunnar were leaning against the far railing, where the roof slanted low over the deck. Their heads were bent close in quiet conversation.
Liam’s father looked up, eyes immediately falling upon his second son. He pressed off the handrail, abandoning the conversation.
"Well, it seems all three of you were found worthy," Brahm commented, his voice gruff yet warm. "You must be starving."
This time, he greeted Liam in the way of the berserker warriors, with a fist over his heart. Liam did the same and they both closed their opposite hand over the other’s fist, a sign of protecting another’s lifeblood with their own.
Then the beast of a male pulled his son into a fierce hug. Liam let go of some of the tension he'd been holding onto, his shoulders dropping ever so slightly.
Next, Gunnar did the same as his father, but held himself stiffly. A flash of emotion sparked in his eyes and was gone before Liam could see it.
Brahm watched his sons fondly, then gave Mirrelle and I the more formal acknowledgement of a hand over his heart and a slight bow, a show of respect in Ephandor.
After mirroring Brahm, I looked to do the same with Gunnar but he was pouring himself a drink at the small bar. So that was how it was going to be. Dick.
"Sit," Brahm commanded, gesturing to the circular table where one of his young warriors-in-training was lifting the domes off our plates.
The action allowed heavenly scents to waft through the air. My mouth watered, and I suddenly felt ravenous.
As we dug in, refueling our bodies after the ordeal down in the caves, there was little to no conversation. The sound of silverware clinking against plates filled the silence, punctuated only by the occasional appreciative moan or grunt.
It reminded me of the last meal I’d shared with Liam and I gave thanks to the gods for the numbness patched atop that particular wound.
Brahm watched us eat, his gaze sharp and assessing. Gunnar, too, kept an eye on us, though his demeanor remained distant and cold, like the icy winds of Snowfall.
As the last bite of food disappeared from my plate, I felt a sudden weight in the air. Brahm cleared his throat, drawing all eyes to him. His gaze swung between Liam and me before settling on his son.
Quietly, I set my utensils down, preparing for whatever he was about to say.
"Now that your belly is filled," he began, his voice deep and commanding, “perhaps you can explain to me why you found it necessary to bring your ex-betrothed into our clan since your letter was rather vague."
"Disgraced betrothed might be a more fitting term,” Gunnar spitefully offered .
Fingers curling, I dug my nails into my thighs.
Brahm silenced Gunnar with a look, turning back to Liam expectantly.
Liam looked at me for a moment before taking a deep breath. "Raina was kidnapped by a group of conspirators hellbent on selling her to fulfill a contract that had been put in place by her parents. They cuffed her in iron. Beat her multiple times while she was weakened. A mage controlled her every move. I’ll let your imagination come up with what additional horrors she would be subjected to if the sale had gone through.”
Gunnar set his drink down with a loud thump, using more force than necessary. Brahm’s sword hand sitting on the table flexed and closed around air.
“They took her from Greenhollow, nearly killing Lorne who was only there by coincidence. Saxon and I got to her in Dusthaven just in time, before she was sold. We killed all of the miserable wretches that we could find. Unfortunately, we don’t know how many more are still out there.”
A heavy silence descended upon the table as everyone absorbed this information.
After another moment, Liam went on. “These same conspirators are connected to Raina’s parents and the plot to remove the Scullbrook line from power, which you already heard from Nox himself."
Brahm's attention settled on me, his piercing gaze making me feel like he could read my thoughts. "Am I to believe you knew nothing of your parents' plotting?"
I straightened my spine, forcing myself to meet his gaze head-on. "I am fae, therefore, I cannot lie," I stated obviously.
Gunnar snorted derisively, his resentment rolling off him in waves. "There's an entire ocean between the truth and a lie. Do not pretend you're standing on the shore and oblivious to the tide."
Uncaring for Gunnar’s opinion, I focused on Brahm, waiting for his reaction. It was his opinion that mattered.
His scrutiny sharpened as he stared me down, the intensity of his eyes seeming to sear my very soul. "Then let the truth pass from your lips to my ear. Tell me you had no part in your parents' scheming, that you knew nothing. Not one thing."
"Raina, you don't have to say anything," Mirrelle began, but my expression must have stopped her.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I spoke. "I swear on my life, I had no knowledge of their treachery, nor would I ever condone such actions. Had I known they’d lowered themselves to such depths, I would have done something about it, especially now that I know they were the malefactors who arranged for me to be sold off in the first place. It seems I was a disgrace in their eyes. If my presence here is felt as an insult to you or your clan, I will leave and face whatever consequences may come. You only need to say the word."
"If our father felt insulted,” Gunnar stated evenly, “he'd have ripped away your spine from your torso already."
Anger radiated from Mirrelle, her muscles rigid. It was like sitting next to an open flame while someone was about to chuck an accelerant at it.
Duersian custom dictated it wasn’t my place to interfere. But I would step in front of Mirrelle before I allowed any of them to lay a finger on her, even if she attacked first.
Across from me, Liam's face tightened at his brother's barbed words. A muscle twitched beneath one eye.
Unlike my companions, I thought Gunnar was merely stating a fact, not lobbing an insult or making a threat.
"Since your souls were weighed and found worthy, I will shelter you from the coming storm." Brahm’s voice rang through the air. “Though, I do not intend to involve the entirety of the clan.”
I would never expect all of Ephandor to fight for me. I wasn’t one of them and it went against their berserker code.
“Thank you,” I told him, doing my best not to fixate on the whole weighing of souls thing.
If I thought about it, I might freak out that I’d been judged by a deity. And lived. I now understood why we had very little recollection; and I was glad of it.
Gunnar rose from his seat and returned to the bar, pouring another drink. As he knocked back the fiery liquid, his hazel eyes glowered at me.
"Let us turn our attention to other matters," Brahm suggested.
Liam's attention remained on Gunnar, but he said nothing and relaxed back into his chair. Mirrelle, on the other hand, was giving the heir of Ephandor every bit of her focus.
Luckily, Gunnar was a soldier first and foremost. As Brahm brought up how to best ensure I was protected, Gunnar engaged with his own strategic opinions. Happily, none of them involved hanging me from a tree or locking me in the mines.
Accepting help wasn’t easy for me. Accepting it from someone who hated my guts was even more challenging.
Gunnar’s assistance, and me going along with it, was not only a win, it was a damned miracle.
After a tentative plan was made, Liam asked me, “Do you think you can do that, Raina?”
“Can I run from an attack, if ordered to?”
“Yes. Can you?”
“If it is a condition of the Drótinn’s generosity, I will have to accept it. Otherwise, I can’t make that promise. I’m not one who runs away from the fight. I run toward it.”
“Spoken like a true Duersian, Raina,” Brahm complemented, nodding approvingly.
Gunnar muttered under his breath, casting a sideways glance in my direction. Letting it go, I waited for the young berserker taking my plate to replace it with dessert.
I picked at the delicate fruit on my plate, listening to the rhythmic clink of Gunnar's glass as he poured himself yet another drink. Lucky for him it smelled like the bourbon made by humans and not fae liquor. Otherwise, he’d be crawling all the way to his bed tonight and regretting it in the morning.
"It has been too long since you've been home for more than a handful of hours," Brahm commented.
Liam exhaled. “I know. The weight of the past two sun cycles has been far heavier than usual.”
Gunnar slid back into his seat. “Which wouldn’t be the case if Raina had only acted like a true Duersian back when it would have meant something.”
Before Mirrelle could throw her knife at the male, I reached for her hand. He was purposefully provoking us.
"Raina is not to blame for my time away from the clan, brother.”
"Isn't she?" Gunnar returned. “Can you say that, had she ignored her parents’ self-serving wishes and married you, you wouldn’t be living in wedded bliss in Blómhaus?”
Blómhaus? Bloom House? No, blóm meant something else. It meant … it meant flower. He hadn’t called me that since he’d been able to call me his. The last time didn’t count.
Flower House.
He built a home for you to live in.
And I never knew because I hadn’t been brave enough to fight for him. Guilt clawed up my throat before a cooling balm pushed it back down.
My regret wasn’t enough to excuse his spiteful behaviors or wipe away his ugly words.
"Leave it alone, Gunnar," Liam warned, his voice low and dangerous.
"Your brother's right.”
All four heads jerked to me. “I doubt you’d have left Nox permanently, but I would never have stood for you staying away from your family and risk damaging the bonds you have with them.”
“Of course you wouldn’t have,” Gunnar mused, “not when you were so obviously desperate to form bonds of your own. Tell me again how chasing after mommy and daddy’s love worked out for you?”
Liam leaned toward his brother menacingly, eyes glowing. I guess he believed he could make comments like that to me, but his brother couldn’t.
I tried to ignore the acrid taste of bitterness lingering in my mouth. How dare he think to defend me when Gunnar was saying the same words Liam himself had said?
“Why do both of you have to be such giant assholes?” Mirrelle smacked her palm on the table, making her plate rattle.
I clamped my hand on Mirrelle’s thigh, keeping her in her seat. She patted my hand lightly, like it was no big deal.
She quickly gave Brahm her sweetest smile. “I meant no offense to you, dear Drótinn. I was speaking to your sons. The younger one pulled this same sh—uh, the same stunt at our last dinner together.”
I denied the urge to turn towards Liam to see his reaction to Mirrelle’s words.
Brahm’s eyes twinkled. “No offense was taken. But I do ask that you try not to kill them both.”
Is he enjoying this?
“How about just one?” she winked.
Brahm chuckled, sitting leisurely and eating his dessert, unaffected by the tempest raging around him. He cut into another piece of the fruity dish, savoring the bite with relish.
"This is exceptional," he remarked nonchalantly, as if we’d been engaged in pleasant dinner conversation rather than a heated argument.
Mirrelle laughed, the sound a welcome relief from the escalating tension. Brahm lifted his goblet to her in acknowledgement, a smirk playing on his lips.
Gunnar set his sights on Mirrelle. "Laugh all you want. It won't change the fact that you're blindly defending someone who has brought nothing but turmoil to our family."
"Your issues are with your brother and her parents, not Raina," Mirrelle shot back, her eyes flashing with anger. "Stop using her as an excuse for your own resentment."
“Watch yourself, dove. I’d hate to snap a wing.”
Brahm’s expression darkened, and I knew we'd reached the end of his patience.
"I grow bored of this bickering. Everyone back to their rooms to rest. I expect to see all of you at the training grounds at first light.”
“Training grounds?” Liam asked.
“Yes. I'm going to knock some fucking sense back into each one of you." The words hung with unmistakable finality.
With a deep breath, I stood. As I turned to walk away, Liam moved to follow, concern etched across his face. But Mirrelle was quicker, shoving him out of the way to position herself between us.
"Back off, Liam," she warned, her voice low and fierce. "I won't let what transpired after the last shit show of a dinner happen to Raina again. And if you pull that mistake bullshit one more time, I will personally cut off your balls."
Gunnar's laughter rang out like a cruel taunt, but Mirrelle wasn't finished. "Then I'll shove them so far up your brother's ass he'll taste them."
I continued walking, trying to ignore the barbs being thrown around behind me. But when I heard Brahm's belly laugh and what must have been his affectionate slap on Gunnar's back, my mouth twitched despite myself.
At least someone found humor in this mess.
For so long, my heart ached for the love and trust I'd once shared with Liam, but I knew it wasn't that simple anymore. There was a thin line between love and hate, and it seemed we were precariously balanced on it .
Someday I would figure out how to keep myself from being thought of as a disgrace, from being in the position to be hurt or to cause hurt. For now, though, I could only put one foot in front of the other. And pray I wasn’t walking to my doom—or anyone else to theirs.
Speirhaus