Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I slowed my steps, trepidation forming around me like a second skin. Last night hadn’t left my uncle and I in a good place, but I could hardly deny the chief.
The nip of the cold wind froze me the instant we stepped outside. Gods, it was cold. I should’ve brought a Gods-damn cloak.
With teeth chattering uncontrollably, I hurried to catch up to my uncle. His strides were twice the length of mine, each step forcing me to take two just to keep pace.
He came to an abrupt halt beside the woodpile and turned to me, his expression unreadable.
“Sometimes, I think you’ve got more fire in you than I do, lass.” Uncle Thrainn fidgeted, which was… uncharacteristic, to say the least.
I’d never seen the oversized bear of a man look so apprehensive—and that alone was enough to scare the crap out of me. Half of me wanted to bolt. The other half needed to hear whatever it was he’d brought me out here to say.
No surprise—curiosity won.
“Uncle?” I asked cautiously. “What’s wrong?”
For a long, aching moment, he just looked at me—his gaze full of a grief I’d never seen in him before. And it shattered something inside me.
“You were always your father’s heart and joy,” he said, voice rough. “I’ve never seen a man prouder than he was of you.”
Oh Gods. This was worse than I expected.
He wanted to talk about my father.
Tears pricked at my eyes the second he said it. We hadn’t spoken about my father since he passed. I knew how hard this must’ve been for him.
“You’ve got fight in you,” he added, softer now. “More than I dare to imagine.”
He paused again, swallowing hard. A few long moments passed as he wrestled for control of his emotions. When he finally spoke again, his voice was steadier, but thick with feeling.
“I miss my brother more than I ever thought possible. And when I look at you, I see his fire. His determination. His strength. I didn’t think there was a single thing that old oaf couldn’t do when he set his mind to it.” He smiled sadly. “Your heart is the spitting image of his.” A long, silent sigh left him. “I know you miss him. We all do. But as long as we have you... he’s not gone.”
He pulled me into a crushing hug, and I let myself melt into it. If I shut my eyes, I could almost believe it was my father holding me.
“I knew it would take time before you could come back,” he murmured. “I know it’s hard—looking at me. But it’s good to see you again. I’ve missed you more than you could ever know... even if you try my patience.” He chuckled, and I knew he was trying to apologize in the only way he knew how. That was us—always butting heads.
When he looked at me again, something shifted. His lip trembled. He fought for composure—but the moment cracked. The last of my heart disintegrated, crumbling like stardust. Tears spilled freely down my cheeks. Thrainn’s shoulders shook as he held me.
I’d never seen him cry—not even when we watched my father burn. He was too proud. Too strong. But here, just the two of us, he let his guard down.
Wiping his eyes on his sleeve, he straightened, clearing his throat. His voice came out gruff with emotion. Smiling faintly, I wiped my own tears—though the wind had already stolen them from my face.
“It’s why I’ve been hard on you,” he said. “I promised my brother I’d keep you safe. And you are making it damn hard to keep that promise.”
I’d been too angry before to acknowledge it. But now... now I thought of it in the context of my mother. I’d made the same promise to protect her. And I understood.
“I know,” I whispered.
Thrainn cleared his throat again. “If I were to ask you to do something for me... would you?”
Ice slid through my veins, with recognition. Recognition of what he was about to ask me.
My heart twisted with betrayal.
With hurt.
He was trying to use the loss of my father to his advantage, twisting it so I sympathized with him and bent to his will. If he thought that it was going to be that easy, he was in for a rude awakening.
“I’m not going home,” I said, arms crossing over my chest. “If that’s what this is about—I’m not leaving. You won’t convince me.”
His face was carved from stone. “Emylia,” he said. “I need you to go home. I need you safe.”
“No,” I snapped. “I won’t do that.”
And without waiting for his response, I turned and walked away—leaving the words unsaid behind me in the frost-bitten air.
Nothing would convince me to leave them here to die.